2. Austin
CHAPTER 2
Austin
“ H i, train girl.” I smile down at Taylor like an idiot.
“Hi,” she says back, her voice a touch breathy.
“Would you like to come into my murder pad—I’m sorry, I mean my apartment.”
She laughs and it’s sweet, if not a touch nervous.
“I would have nobody to blame but myself at this point,” she adds, stepping over the threshold and into my apartment. I take her purse, hanging it on the hook by the door. “Nice place.” She shoves her hands into her pockets as she looks around for a second before settling her gaze on me.
Her blue eyes look even more pronounced than they did on the train. A stark contrast to her pale skin and wavy strawberry-blond hair.
“Part of my smart financial plan.” I tap my temple. “A small, relatively inexpensive place that has everything I need in a safe area and right next to my train stop. Can’t beat it.” I lean against the kitchen island, Taylor switching her hands from her front pockets to her back pockets. “You seem nervous.”
She shrugs. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact I’m in a strange man’s apartment whom I met twenty-four hours ago.”
“You don’t date?” I push off from the counter, grabbing two wineglasses from the cabinet and the bottle of wine I put in the fridge earlier.
“I mean, I do—kind of. I just started dating again actually, but I don’t go over to their house on the first date.” I glance up from pouring the wine to see her face flush pink. “Not that I think this is a first date. I just meant I don’t—when I do go on dates…”
“I understand.” I smile, handing her a glass. “No one-night stands or random hookups with strangers. Certainly safer.”
She takes a small sip and sighs. “That’s so good, thank you. What about you? Lots of strange women seeing your place after less than twenty-four hours?”
“No.” I chuckle. “My dating life consists of me working till ten p.m. in a cubicle farm most nights… or did rather.”
“Ah, yes, to unemployment.” She lifts her glass to mine and we cheers before taking another drink. “Any more decisions regarding starting your own firm?”
“Let’s have a seat.” I nod toward the couch and she follows me over, taking a seat on the cushion farthest from me. “So, the client called me this morning.”
Her eyes grow wide like she’s just as excited as I am. “And?”
“He said, and I quote,” I lower my voice, attempting to recreate the same gruff tone, “‘let’s get this goddamn ball rolling, son. What the hell are you waiting for? The sun to shoot out your ass and tell you to pull the trigger? Start the damn firm and make me more money.’”
She laughs at my impression, her eyes sparkling. “Holy shit, that’s amazing. Congrats! What are the next steps?”
“I’ve spent all morning looking through office building rentals. One of my college buddies, Craig Nelson, he’s really up-and-coming in the corporate real estate world so he’s helping me navigate all of that. But get this. That’s not even the biggest news. He told me two of his business partners want to move over to my firm starting day one.”
“Austin.” She shakes her head. “This is huge.”
“I know,” I say, smiling at her. It feels weird to be sitting across from someone I don’t know, sharing the biggest news of my life, but at the same time, she’s the first person I thought of when I got the call this morning.
“Can I be nosy?” she says, interrupting my train of thought.
“You want to know who the client is, don’t you?”
“Guilty.” She laughs.
“Newt Chambers.”
Her face goes white. “ The Newt Chambers? The guy who owns half of Chicago and has his name on an entire wing of my law school?”
“The very one.”
“Oh my God.” She stands up. “Austin, this is bigger than huge… and he wants to bring over two business partners? Are they also whales?”
“Elizabeth Zellner and Kip Mortimer.”
“So the media mogul and the real estate baron of Chicago as well.” She finishes the rest of her wine and slowly sinks down onto the couch. “This is—this isn’t just a chance to start your own firm, Austin. This is life-changing.” She keeps her gaze forward, her mouth hanging slightly open like she’s thinking through something. “Why’d you tell me? Why not call your parents or friends or anyone besides a stranger from the train?”
“You’re the first person I thought of when he called.” She turns to look at me. “Felt like a full circle moment and honestly, I should be thanking you for yesterday. For listening to me. I was running on adrenaline and probably a healthy dose of fear after walking out of my office unemployed, but I don’t know.” I shrug again, feeling like an awkward teenager. “You were great and it felt like we were meant to meet. Am I an idiot?”
“No.” Her expression shifts, like she not only gets what I’m trying to say but feels the same. “I appreciated our talk too. I’ve been in my head a lot lately with finishing school and my internship and yeah… turning into an adult is kind of a bunch of bullshit.”
We both laugh at that, agreeing that while it has its perks, growing up is often overrated.
“What about you? I’m sorry. I’ve been word vomiting all over you about this whole thing, but did you hear back from your interview?”
“Refill?” she asks, reaching for my glass as she stands up.
“Sure.” I hand her my glass that isn’t empty yet. “I’ll take a top off.”
I watch her walk to the island, pouring the wine and bringing her glass to her lips to take a healthy sip.
“How old are you?” she asks, clearly ignoring my question. I make a note to ask her about it again later, but it’s clear she’s not in the mood to discuss it now.
“Twenty-eight.” I stand up and make my way toward her. “You?” I reach for my glass of wine and bring it to my lips.
“Twenty-four.” She nods, not saying anything else.
“Why?” Notes of citrus linger on my tongue from the wine. I place my glass on the counter and take the few steps around the edge where Taylor is standing.
“Just curious.” She shrugs, her fingers clutching her glass.
I reach my hand out and take it from her, placing it on the counter beside mine before turning back toward her. Her throat constricts as I see her swallow and her eyes shift back and forth like she’s trying to anticipate my next move.
There’s something about her… besides her drop-dead gorgeous looks and killer body. Something that makes me want more. To know her more. To feel her, touch her… kiss her. My eyes drop to her pouty lips, my hand coming to rest against her waist as I close the distance between us.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I say softly, my hand pulling her against me as I start to walk us backward toward the wall. “Am I worth the risk?”
Her hand rests gently atop my arm, the warmth of her fingertips against my bare skin causing my cock to stir. I question if I’m reading the look on her face correctly, but there’s no denying the heavy-lidded look of lust on her face.
Her back hits the wall and I tilt my head, bringing my lips toward hers when her hands are suddenly against my chest, stilling my movements.
“I didn’t get the job,” she blurts out.
“What?”
“They passed on me. I didn’t get it.” My fingers dig into her waist, my others against the wall behind her.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I feel like an ass for going on and on about my good news. No wonder she looked so conflicted on the couch earlier. She was probably trying to hide her own disappointment while I was celebrating.
“Do you still need a lawyer?” she says with a little laugh, and my hands still on her body.
I groan which turns into a laugh because I know what she’s going to say. “I very much need a lawyer, especially one like you.”
“Then we probably shouldn’t…”
“Yeah.” Reluctantly, I release my grasp on her, stepping away to take a few deep breaths and redirect the blood flow away from my cock. “You’re probably right.” I drag my hands down my face, my back toward her as I try to refocus my thoughts.
“So… business partners it is, then.”
I turn back around to look at her, her skin still flush with desire, her shirt askew from where my hands were gripping her. She looks sexy, a touch undone, and I have this overwhelming desire to say fuck it and pull her to me again so I can taste her lips.
“Business partners.” I smile, holding my hand out toward her.