Chapter 15
C ARRAH TRAVELED THE less-frequented roads along the outskirts of town. She bent the curve on Lake Ola Drive then slammed on the brakes when the GPS announced she’d missed her turn. A string of curse words escaped her mouth while she drove another few yards until she found a driveway to turn around in.
Her little Benz creeped at a turtle’s pace then proceeded to crawl, holding up a few cars once she spotted the turn she missed. It was a dirt road, well, more like tire tracks in grass hidden by oversized trees and wild bushes. A true country road, one way in and one way out with a wooden gate that had been left open.
In slow motion, she cut the wheel and began rolling down the gravel-laden path. The rocks and shakes her sedan endured had her second-guessing this ultra-discreet location he’d selected until she made it into a clearing and saw a cute little summer cottage on acres of untethered land nestled on the bank of a lake she didn’t know. This was the scenery that made her jet out of Louisiana every May. Old Florida was breathtaking whenever stumbled upon.
Carrah drove a few more feet forward and pulled up next to Chris’s vintage blue Jeep. She’d seen him drive it around town here and there during the summer months. However, it was a complete contradiction to the Bentley he often sported. Whereas the Bentley broadcasted his wealth, sophistication, and command of old guard status, the Jeep was simple, relaxed, and rugged. All the things she knew he was not.
She cut the engine off then checked the mirror and gathered her purse before she moved to tug the door handle. It pulled away from her fingers and to her surprise Chris was standing on the opposite side of the car, pulling the door open. Carrah didn’t shy away from his chivalry. She accepted it and climbed out of the car, stutter-stepping until she found balance on the arm he’d extended to help her.
Once her heels rooted within the uneven ground beneath her feet, she looked up into his almost disapproving stare. “Thank you.” She finally found words to speak after being unnerved by his actions and damn near seduced by those beautiful light eyes.
“My mother raised me to be a gentleman. Why do you seem so surprised?” A smirk twisted his lips as he closed the door. He then walked off toward the cottage.
“I didn’t see you come outside.” Carrah followed, adjusting her dress. Glad she’d remembered Ava’s words on his professionalism and wore business attire as he was still threaded in his. “You know I didn’t mean it in the way you’ve taken it.” She had tried to control her tongue, but ended up snapping a tidbit.
Chris stopped at the door with his hand on the knob as he looked over his shoulder. “Must you always feel like there’s a point to prove?”
Meanwhile Carrah’s internal battle systems were roaring to life, telling her to abort the mission. She didn’t know how long she would need his help, but if it came at the price of always being made to feel that she’d done something wrong, it wasn’t worth it. Most important, she wasn’t wired with the patience to put up with a condescending, bright-eyed jerk.
Her lack of patience was one reason she had always enjoyed chemistry. Elements always had a reaction, and mixing them revealed if they were compatible or not. Usually, it was instant gratification and she knew whether to continue or discard an experiment. In this case she didn’t know. Beyond the reservations she held for Chris, she still understood that dream chasing came with no guarantees.
“I don’t have a point to prove. You caught me off guard.”
He shrugged, turned the knob, and pushed the door open. He gestured for her to enter, and she did. The cottage wasn’t as simple on the inside nor did it look like it had been standing for generations. The reclaimed wood floors and stone fireplace gave off a rustic charm.
However, there were modern comforts such as a Sub-Zero fridge and granite countertops peeking out from the small kitchen that didn’t compromise luxury. There was balance here that was warm and cozy, despite the icy reception she had received.
She looked around noting high-end finishes that still preserved architectural detail of a bygone era. Her guess was their mutual friend Duncan McNeal had helped in renovating the space. Unlike both their homes on Lakeshore, she didn’t have to walk very far to be on the opposite side from where she’d come in the front door. The space was quaint and it humbled her in a way she had never imagined while giving her the chance to appreciate a gorgeous lake view.
“Why don’t you come have a seat?” his voice called from behind. She turned around, searching briefly before spotting him at the only dining table between the kitchen and sitting room. “We have a good amount to discuss.”
Got it , she wanted to say aloud, but didn’t as she made her way to where he sat. She hadn’t misread his tone. All business, as it was supposed to be, except it seemed cold in this setting. Almost as if he didn’t want to be here.
Carrah noticed the chair directly across from him that had been pulled out for her. She quickly moved to it and scooted into the table. The only items on the table were two stacks of papers, his laptop, a pen, and his phone.
“Sorry,” she offered an apology. “I’ve never been to this side of town. It’s beautiful here.”
Chris nodded and placed his hands on the table. “Let’s jump right—”
“Wait”—she held her hands up—“can we at least be cordial?”
He recoiled back in his seat and folded his arms. His penetrating stare caused her to squirm in her seat before he said, “Cordial? Have I not been?”
She gulped hard, fighting the way she seemed to become hot from the way his expressive eyes scanned her. “You just seem so… I don’t know, like you really don’t want me here.”
“I don’t.” He was point-blank, matter-of-fact, never wavering from keeping her the center of his attention. “I preferred that we have this meeting at my office. However, our families’ complicated history dictated otherwise. Furthermore, this is business. There’s no need for us to pretend a friendship existed prior to you asking for my help and me giving it to you.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear on more than one occasion.”
His lips pressed together. “Carrah—”
“It’s fine, Chris.” She stiffened, lifting her chin and making her back a little straighter. “Let’s get to it, as you said.”
Chris hesitated for a second, but then nodded and reached for the first contract he’d had on the table. It had to be this way between them, black and white with no shades of gray. He’d felt confusion surface that night on the balcony and this distance between them was needed to maintain order. Life had brought him too far to be compromised by a woman who had made it her job to disregard him every summer that he could remember.
“Our first point of business is to officially establish our attorney-client relationship.” He slid the document in front of Carrah, offered a pen, and watched her sign without any questions before he did the same. He then shifted a second stack of papers to give her a better view. “This is the revised contract between you and Hurston House. I’ll highlight items of note and the changes that were made.”
Page by page, he went through every section noting important clauses within her contract while explaining the changes and answering her questions. The flow was intelligent and easy. He appreciated her sophisticated, yet inquisitive, approach that engaged him in a way he had been with few clients, and it made him wonder if the way they were now could’ve always been had they not been rivals. He dared not ask for he was certain that the Carrah he had now would never be the one he got outside of these walls.
“So if I understand you correctly, they’re offering me more money,” she asked, beaming a Kool-Aid smile.
Her smile was contagious. Chris was genuinely happy to represent her work. In most cases, he had little interest in the project. He was simply excited to close the deal for one of his celebrity clients. In this case, Carrah had written a captivating story that in some ways exposed the shadows within his own heart. Couple her work with attracting a leading publisher and a deal that could help close disparity gaps Black authors encountered within the publishing industry, and all he smelled was her success.
“They are. You’ll receive more on the advance and greater attention with publicity.”
“Dannnggg,” she drawled, “you really are good!”
A hearty chuckle escaped him. He stood, stretched, and then gazed out the window. The sun would set soon and he didn’t want her driving on unfamiliar dark roads so he needed to wrap things up. “Once you sign and the contract is returned with a voided check, they will make a direct deposit to your account. Of course the royalties come after book sales.”
His vibrating phone silenced their exchange. Both he and Carrah glanced over to his device. Heather was calling. Almost two weeks had passed since he’d heard from her and he preferred it that way. There was nothing left to say after the spectacle she’d made in front of his family and at his office. Which was why he didn’t hesitate declining the call before he reclaimed his seat.
“Oh, I forgot to ask. Does Hurston House send you your fees or do I need to cut a separate check?”
“You were there for my brother when I couldn’t be. This is the least I can do.” His attention left his phone and went back to the other side of the table. He hadn’t brought up fees in the attorney-client contract intentionally. The confidence she gave back to Carter was worth more than anything she could pay him. It was apparent she had not read between those lines and perhaps it was hard, given the distance they maintained.
“I—”
The rapidly buzzing sound of his phone halted his words. He took a second to mute the chat with his ex so that he could respond to Carrah without further disruption. Again, his phone began ringing. This time it was Summer Bradshaw, another woman who wanted more from him than he was willing to give. He’d avoided her since leaving the ball almost a week ago now.
A light giggle escaped Carrah, recapturing his attention. “Quite the ladies’ man this evening. Guess I should’ve known. I mean, Gav is your bestie.” She got up from the chair and walked into the kitchen. “I’m thirsty. May I have something to drink?”
“Bottles are in the fridge.” He cleared his throat, unable to take his gaze away from the way her curves filled out the pink dress she wore. “Grab one for me, too, please.” He then sent Summer a quick “we’ll catch up one day” text and made his phone disappear.
Carrah returned with their drinks and sat back down. He watched her for longer than a few minutes before finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. They would have this conversation now since she’d accused him of having a personality he didn’t own. “Your logic is that because Gav is my best friend, we are the same?”
Carrah took a sip of water. She set the bottle down as her lips curved into a smile while she leaned into the table. “Are you trying to use that LSAT deductive reasoning on me? Won’t work; I took that test for fun and passed it too. Besides, I literally just watched you ignore a call from the girl who was in your office the other day, begging me to disregard my appointment so she could see you, and then there’s Summer. They’re both women that clearly want you.”
“So if Reese or Ava called, am I still this Casanova you wish to paint me as?”
“Reese and Ava are your friends. They have been since we were old enough to ride tricycles. I don’t think you see them in a romantic way. Therefore, it’s different.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps,” he muttered as he studied her, curious to know what else she thought of him. Only, he wouldn’t ask because he wasn’t supposed to care. “I’d very much like it if you didn’t assign attributes to me of which you know nothing about.”
Carrah shrank away from the table. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. It was just that he valued his character. He’d worked hard to cultivate who he was and how people perceived him. Image had been one of the constructs his mother made him prize above all else. No one would think less of him.
“For the record,” he started, staring at her, willing their eyes to meet, but they never did. It didn’t stop him from saying what he had on his chest. “I’m a one-woman type of man.”
“Not everyone is,” she said a little above a whisper. Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and her gaze shifted to a point beyond him. He sensed there was pain behind her words, and it baffled him because what man wouldn’t want only her. Trent had to be a fool. “My apologies if I offended.”
He cleared his throat and straightened back up at the table. They were back to business, and this timid, almost shy Carrah was a sight he never imagined seeing. “Historically in publishing, your agent would’ve landed this deal, and yes, they would receive a percentage. I am not your agent. We’ll need to work on getting you one.” He paused, scribbling a note on a blank piece of paper. “I will not make future deals. That is not my wheelhouse as I stated to you the other night. However, negotiating contracts are and this is the least I can do after your encouragement of my brother.”
“Carter is sweet and—”
“And I’m not?” The words rushed out unexpectedly. He pushed up from the table refusing to swallow the bitterness of how she’d dismissed him all his life yet had somehow managed to give his brother compassion. Their close proximity triggered feelings he’d stowed away and he wasn’t sure how long he could pretend her actions didn’t bother him.
Chris released a breath of frustration and then peeked out the window. “It’s getting late. The roads out here don’t have streetlamps, so if you’re sure about this arrangement and don’t have any other questions you can sign the contract and head home.”
“I never said that.” Her voice held an edge he wasn’t able to ignore. He turned from the window and faced her. “You’ve never given me the chance to know you.”
“Are you serious? Miss, I’ll keep my distance and use the disdain between our families as the excuse to cold-shoulder me.”
“You do the same,” she snorted, pompously tossing the ball back in his court as she rose from her chair.
He did, but it had always been a defense mechanism until he was old enough to heed his mother’s words that some pretty things were poisonous. By the time Carrah had extended an olive branch, their worlds were set. He’d torn up a letter from her asking if they could be friends because by then he knew who belonged in his sphere and she didn’t.
However, now that they had agreed to enter into a business relationship, he preferred that the hostilities between them fade into something more amiable. The two of them getting along would also be easier on the friend group, especially now that Reese had returned home and their circles intertwined.
“Contrary to what you may think, I have tried. Dorian’s, kickball, tonight…”
Her jaws went slack then slowly closed. “You’ve got to be joking. First, I don’t recall any form of amicability from you when we went out on Dunc’s boat. You walked off when I arrived. Second, you knocked the wind out of me with that kickball and then all but threw me into a golf cart. And tonight…” She huffed. “I had to ask you if we could be cordial since you were Frosty the Snowman when I got here.”
“Clearly our interpretations of those incidents differ.” He set his gaze upon her. “But if that is how you view things, why do you want me to be your attorney? Why did you just sit here and sign a document that enters us into an attorney-client relationship? I explained to you that this is a relationship that requires trust. I’ll know things about you that your family doesn’t, and you’ll have to believe that whenever I’m working for you, I am executing at my highest potential with no reservations. Is that even possible given the picture you just painted of me?”
“I need to head back before it gets too dark.” She snatched her purse from the counter and proceeded to leave. “You’re right. Maybe I should’ve contemplated this a little more. Sorry I wasted your time.” She spun on her heel and made a dash for the door.