Page 7 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
Huh. I honestly don’t remember that. But hell, that could have been every other Tuesday for me as a teenager.
“I don’t remember you at all. All male lawyers look the same to me. Have a good meeting.”
I shove my sleeves up my forearms to expose my tattoo, give them a smile, and head toward the exit.
Which would have been a great exit, except I slightly twist my ankle and mutter a low ‘fuck’ under my breath.
“Are you okay?” Evan asks.
I glance back and give him a tight smile. “I’m good. So good. The best I’ve ever been.” I reach down and adjust the back of my heel where my foot has slipped out. “And that’s sarcasm, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“I’ve never known how women can stand to wear heels,” Evan says, looking sympathetically at my feet.
I open my mouth.
Christopher smiles. “I feel a speech about the patriarchy coming on.”
The smile catches me off guard because I’m suddenly aware of how attractive he is. I feel a tingle in places that have no business tingling right now when my life is a hot mess. And he was right—I was about to rant. The sudden smile is disarming, and the fact that it’s disarming makes it even more disarming.
“You don’t have to wear heels every day, Finley,” he adds.
“Mary Grace said…” Then I stop talking because why the hell am I protesting? This is amazing news because heels suck.
“Fuck Mary Grace. You only have to wear them if you have to go to the courthouse,” Christopher says.
I immediately kick the shoes off, and head to the door barefoot, scooping up the heels on my way out. I need to get the hell out of here before I say something that will get me fired.
Or bent over the conference table.
It really is fucking hot in here.
“Great. I’ll bring my slippers tomorrow.” I put my hand up to my ear, heels dangling. “Evan, call me.”
The door glides closed behind me.
I’m tempted to press my ear to it and hear what, if anything, they’re saying about me.
“Why aren’t you wearing your shoes?”
Girl Kyle’s horrified voice makes me jump a little. I turn to see Kyle sitting at her desk, mouth open.
“Blister,” I lie.
I head to my own desk, in a much better mood.
Banks, Anderson, Banks, and Davis is proving to be a much more interesting workplace than I expected.
CHAPTER 3
Tucker
I can’t believeI’m being fucking sued.
This is such a waste of time and money. I should be out at the worksite, but instead I’m sitting in the waiting room of a swanky law firm waiting for my meeting with the attorney who I hope is going to shut this whole thing down.
I fuss with the tie at my throat. I also can’t believe I wore a tie. I never wear ties. Okay, I couldn’t weartiesif I wanted to, since I only own one, but I only wear it when I absolutely have to. I’m not sure that’s the case today.
I’ve paired it with a button-down shirt and the only pair of pants I own that aren’t denim or joggers. But I have the obligatory one suit, one tie, and one button-down shirt for things like weddings and funerals.
