Page 5 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
I realize I’m still holding his coffee in my other hand, so I shove it toward him. He doesn’t take it.
“Why wouldn’t Mary Grace tell me you’re Greg’s daughter?”
He exchanges a long glance with Evan, aka Pretty Boy, who just shrugs.
I try to hand him the coffee again. “Here’s your drip coffee, two creams. Very old school. Almost retro, actually. The barista sends you appreciation for easing her workload.”
Evan clears his throat and covers his smirk with a cough.
Christopher takes the cup, but absently. He doesn’t take a sip or acknowledge how obviously funny I am. “Mary Grace just told me she hired a paralegal who failed the bar.”
Damn it. Of course, Nurse Ratchet would lead with my alleged failure.
I fight the urge to snark or sigh. Or both.
“Exam results are confidential.” I have no idea if they are or aren’t. But…rude.
I may be a classic case of a nepotism hire, but it’s not like I don’t feel lousy about it. I wanted to make it on my own in the Big Apple, but spoiler alert, New York City is expensive as hell, and instead of getting hired at a prominent firm, I found myself begging for more hours at my coffee shop job and then begging my parents to bail me out. I’m not proud of any of that, and I have been reduced to being a charity hire back in my hometown,where I dramatically swore at eighteen I would never reside ever again.
Eighteen-year-old me was idealistic and emo. Twenty-eight-year-old me is practical as fuck and waffling between defensive and determined, depending on the minute.
Christopher seems to recover. He smoothes away his frown and takes a sip of his java. “Of course. We hear you’ll be taking the bar in July.”
I can hear it in his tone. Patronizing sympathy.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
It’s just…fuck.
I hate, hate that I didn’t pass—even if it wasn’t my fault. It’s not like I could predict the train breaking down and me being stuck underground for forty minutes in a subway car.
I tell myself,Don’t explain to these guys.Don’t apologize. Chin up. I owe them nothing.
“I didn’t fail,” I blurt out.
Damn it. What did I just tell myself?
But God, I hate failing.
“You passed?” Evan asks. “Congratulations then.” He raises his coffee in cheers.
“Well.” I bite my lip, then quit instantly when I see Evan’s eyes drift to my mouth. “No. I didn’t pass.”
The corners of Christopher’s mouth turn up, as if he’s fighting a smile. “Too bad. I hate it when Mary Grace is right.”
That mollifies me a little. Just a smidge.
“You could use a study buddy then. I can help you,” Evan offers.
That makes me blink in surprise. “That’s very generous and very out of left field, but thank you.”
“I’m sure you’re too busy for that,” Christopher says. He claps Evan on the shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze with a broad palm.
It’s not a question. It’s a command.
Evan glances over at Christopher. His eyebrows raise and something sizzles between them.
It’s sexual tension.
