Page 9 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
I rack my brain. I would’ve remembered taking this one home. So we didn’t meet at a bar and spend the night together or anything. But she does not look happy to see me.
Christopher clears his throat. “Tucker Hastings, this is Finley Anderson. She’s the paralegal who will be helping me with your case.” He looks from me to her and back. “But I take it you already know one another?”
The cold tingle down my spine turns into icy fingers gripping my heart.
No. No fucking way.
This gorgeous woman barely resembles the emo teenager I knew.
Finley was the outspoken goth girl in high school. She dressed in black constantly, dyed her already dark hair jet black, and wore heavy black makeup on her eyes, lips, and fingernails.
She could give full-on rants about the patriarchy, detailed descriptions of serial killers’ patterns, and, yes, fucked around with curses and shit.
Excuse me, but when my two best buddies asked her sisters to prom and then said I had to take Finley? Me saying, “The weird, creepy triplet? No way.” made sense.
The girl was scary.
Of course, I hadn’t intended for her to hear me say that. If for no other reason than because it would’ve kept me from being cursed. But also because I’m not a total asshole. Regardless of what she thinks. I felt bad knowing she’d overheard me. But less and less bad as time went on and more and more bullshit consequences occurred.
“Yes, Tucker and I know one another,” Finley says in a smooth, calm, and professional voice. “Though it’s been a long time.”
She pulls a chair out and lowers herself into it, then crosses her legs. Curse or not, she looks amazing now.
“Uh, hey, Finley,” I manage to say.
“Oh, excellent,” Christopher says. “That’s great.”
I take a seat in the chair Christopher motions to as he also sits. Is there a way I can tell Christopher I don’t want to work with her and not come off as a jerk?
Finley studies me across the wide table. “I’m guessing Tucker is thinking right about now that it is definitely not great.”
Nope, probably not. And I can’t give her the satisfaction of knowing I’m still a little scared of her.
Christopher looks from her to me. “Is that right? Do you have a history?”
“We went to high school together,” I tell him.
“And how was that?” Christopher asks, looking at Finley.
“High school was amazing,” she says sarcastically. “And how have you been since, like, March ten years ago?” Finley asks me.
She’s a brat.
That doesn’t surprise me.
I want to tread carefully here. It’s been a decade since high school. I’m more mature. Wiser. I know I was a dick to her then, and I wish that hadn’t happened the way it had. We’re both professionals now. And we’re sitting here with a guy who knows both of our parents. We need to behave.
Plus, I don’t want to be cursed again.
“Great,” I tell her. Yeah, I’m not about to let her know her stupid curse worked. Come on. “I own my own business. Make great money. Built my own house.”
She looks down at the paper in front of her. “It’s the business that’s being sued for endangerment and injury to a teenager.” She looks up and tsks. “That doesn’t seem so great.”
I lean in with a frown. “It’s a bullshit charge. Those kids snuck onto my worksite after hours. There are clear signs posted with the dangers and warning about trespassing. And there are cameras, so I’ve got video showing them sneaking over the fence.This is completely not my liability.” I glance at Christopher, desperately wanting him to nod his agreement.
“Still,” she says, looking regretful. Fake regretful. “Maybe not great for your reputation, huh? Everyone in Honeysuckle Harbor always thought you were such a great guy.”
“Everyone in Honeysuckle Harbor still thinks I’m a really great guy,” I tell her.
