When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss (Aspen Grove)

Chapter 4

W hen Monday morning rolls around, I groan at my blaring alarm and drag myself out of bed.

After visiting Grams yesterday, I spent the afternoon studying at the library since it was cold and they have heating. On my way home, I stopped by the grocery store to make the most of their Sunday afternoon markdowns and once I made it to my house, I curled up in bed and caught up on the latest season of Love Island .

I might not lead an adventurous life, but it’s mine. One day, after I’ve finished law school and landed my dream job, I’ll look back and see it was all worthwhile.

On my way to work, Rob sent me his breakfast order—a cappuccino and a cheese Danish from a bakery on the opposite side of town. Of course when I got there, they’d sold out, so I had to go to a different location.

I’m convinced he deliberately asks for a different pastry every day and bribes the bakery into hiding their stock, making me search multiple places for the right one. The fact that the bakeries he sends me to are almost always out of the pastry he asks for seems to be more than just a coincidence.

When I finally reach the office, I’m late and out of breath. My phone pings in the elevator, and I take it from my purse with my free hand.

Noah: Have a great day at work. If Rob gives you a hard time, tell him to suck it.

Reese: I’ll be sure to pencil that in between the department meeting at 9 am and the settlement agreement at 10.

Noah: Heard anything from the big boss?

Reese: I just got here, but I’m sure he’s already forgotten about me.

Noah: Somehow, I doubt that. I’m heading into the courtroom now.

Reese: Okay, good luck in there. Talk soon!

I place my phone in my desk drawer when Rob pokes his head out of his office.

“Reese, get in here, now,” he barks. “And bring my breakfast with you. I’m starving.”

His voice carries across the open floor plan, with desks spread across the space and offices lining the perimeter. Several heads turn, curious about the commotion.

“Coming.” I grab his coffee and the cheese Danish and rush into his office.

Rob stands at the door, tapping his foot impatiently, and I move past him inside and place his breakfast on the desk.

“What can I do for you?” I ask, the words feeling like sandpaper on my tongue.

He eyes me warily as he takes a seat in his leather chair. “I’ve been assigned to the Irving case. Since it’s high-stakes and he’s one of our longest-standing clients, all the other associates wanted to work on it, but I’m the one who got it,” he brags as he takes a big bite of his Danish.

He has a glob of pastry filling smeared on his face, but I say nothing.

Instead, I force a smile and say, “That’s great news.”

High-stakes cases are considered the golden ticket for paralegals. The increased workload provides the chance to gain valuable experience, however, I doubt Rob will let me do much more than run errands and file paperwork.

“Hardly,” Rob mutters through another mouthful. “It means I’m stuck working with Dawson. It’s not fair that he keeps the best cases for himself. Chances are, he’ll try to pawn off the worthless grunt work to me. At least I have you.”

Which is another way of saying I’ll be stuck doing all the menial tasks.

I raise my eyebrows. “Wait, Dawson is working on this case too?”

“Yeah, he’s the lead counsel, but he asked me to assist. Not that it’s any of your business,” Rob adds, asserting his authority. “The bastard told me he wants you to split your time between him and me since his previous paralegal left last month, and according to him, he can’t find anyone else suitable. Whatever the hell that means. I shouldn’t be surprised, since he’s an asshole. No one in the office can stand him,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re one to talk .

“How am I expected to divide my time?” I ask, keeping my unfiltered opinion to myself.

I’m already stretched thin and worried about how I’ll be able to manage it all if I have to work longer hours at the firm.

“Dawson said he’ll make the final call,” Rob grumbles. “But remember, you’re my employee. Step out of line, and you’ll regret it,” he threatens, jabbing a pudgy finger at me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, suspecting Dawson won’t tolerate Rob’s attempted power play.

“Understood. Will that be all for now?”

“Dawson wants to see you, but don’t take too long. Those files won’t sort themselves.” He nods to a cart of documents in the corner.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I head toward the elevators. Why would Dawson change my job responsibilities when I told him no last week. The last thing I needed was for Rob to find another reason to resent me.

When I get to Dawson’s office, the door is ajar. I don’t bother knocking and head inside. He’s at his desk, buried in paperwork, not bothering to look up.

“Sit.”

Looks like we’re skipping the social pleasantries this morning.

“Do I get a special treat if I do?” I deadpan.

I make sure to keep my smile sickly sweet, an eyebrow raised in silent reprimand.

Dawson’s fingers tapping away at his laptop freeze, curling in on themselves, as his jaw clenches in what I assume is frustration.

“Take a seat. Please .” He motions to the chair in front of his desk. “I take it Rob shared the news?”

I lower myself into the chair and clasp my hands as my nerves attempt to stage a coup on my newly discovered courage. “I appreciate the offer from Friday, but I turned it down, remember? I’m happy to assist Rob with his part of the Irving case, but it’s best if you and I keep our distance. There are plenty of other paralegals in the firm you can assign to work with you directly.” I mentally give myself a high-five for standing my ground.

Dawson looks up from his computer, his piercing blue eye meeting mine. “Let me make one thing clear. Rob Thompson is an idiot, and there’s no chance I’d let him touch this case with a ten-foot pole.”

I tilt my head, a frown tugging at my lips. “Then why would you assign him to it in the first place?”

“It was the only way to get you to cooperate,” he states with a shrug. “You’re far more stubborn than I gave you credit for.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” he says with a straight face.

If I had any sense of self-preservation, I’d stop provoking him. Better yet, I’d leave and never visit the fourth floor. But clearly, I’ve thrown caution to the wind since I’m still here, staring at the man who can make or break my career.

“This case will require long nights, extensive research, and careful coordination with my client and the team. This project demands the best, and the glowing recommendations from your past employer suggest that includes you.”

“Dawson, I’m flattered, truly, but—”

He holds out his hand to silence me. “What’s the real reason you refuse to work with me? Is it because of what happened between us at Steel & Ink?” he asks, lowering his voice.

Yes.

“No, that has nothing to do with it,” I lie, dropping my gaze. “I’ve only been here a week. I’m sure one of the more seasoned paralegals would be happy to assist you.”

Dawson doesn’t say a word as he gets out of his chair and comes to perch on the edge of his desk. His jaw is tight and his eyes are narrowed, leaving me unsure if he’s angry or in deep concentration. My breath hitches when his leg brushes against mine, and the brief touch sends a tremor through me.

He shifts closer, taking a deep breath. “You smell like pineapple and coconut,” he murmurs.

My knuckles turn white as I grip my armrest. “It’s my shampoo,” I whisper.

“I like it… a lot.”

I force myself to remain still, my body coming alive with him so close. My pulse is pounding in my ears as he traces my jawline with his thumb. Though it seems like an innocent gesture, the undercurrent of desire in his lingering touch sends my heart racing.

His shirt sleeve has risen, giving me a glimpse of a rose tattoo. I’m mesmerized by the intricate design, at how the bold ink is in stark contrast to his skin. My hand inches closer, itching to trace the lines. I pause when I notice Dawson, his intense gaze locked on mine. His eyes have a glimmer of fascination, and it could be my imagination, but I swear he leans in a fraction, almost inviting my touch.

The sound of approaching footsteps causes him to withdraw. He remains perched on his desk, pretending to adjust his tie as if he’d been preparing to have a serious conversation, not on the verge of being caught in a compromising situation with one of his employees.

Dawson’s dangerous—not just because of his reputation, but because if I let him, he’ll find a way to chip at my defenses, making it impossible to resist his charm. And I can’t afford to let my guard down when my future is on the line.

No matter how enticing he might be.

Jeremy, the head investigative specialist at Thompson & Tate, knocks on the doorframe. “Is now a bad time?” he asks, eyeing Dawson, who’s scowling at him.

“What do you need?” Dawson snaps.

“I have the reports you asked for, sir.” Jeremy holds a folder but doesn’t move from his spot on the threshold.

Dawson exhales sharply. “Let me see.” He drums his fingers against the desk, his impatience evident.

Poor Jeremy visibly trembles as he rushes to pass Dawson the folder before scurrying out of the room. Dawson flips through the documents and I seize the chance to slip out of my chair, ready to make a beeline for the door. But before I can take more than a step, his hand gently grabs my wrist.

“Hang on. We’re not finished.” His tone is firm but calm.

“I’d like to get back to work if that’s okay with you.” I fold my arms across my chest, waiting for him to make the next move.

His eyes dart to my mouth before meeting my eyes. “Go on.” He nods toward the door. “But my decision stands. I’ll email your new schedule this afternoon.”

I sigh, not wanting to push him past his limit.

I’m halfway across the room when Dawson calls out after me. “Oh, and Reese?”

I turn back to face him. “Yeah?”

“If Rob gives you any trouble with your new schedule, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

My eyebrows arch in disbelief. Given the way he treats everyone else, it’s hard to reconcile him letting his guard down to show warmth and kindness, especially to someone in my position. And I’m intrigued by the prospect of uncovering that side of him, the one he hides behind his brusque exterior.

“Thank you, Mr. Tate.”

I’m already bracing for Rob’s sour mood when he sees my new schedule as I make my way downstairs. It’s only my second week here, and I’m now required to spend more time with the man I’ve been fantasizing about for the past three months.

How much more complicated can it get?