Sutton
It’s been a few days, and I find myself returning to the finance department. Knocking on the open door to Elodie’s office, I grab her attention when she looks up from her laptop and instantly smiles.
“There you are, Ms. Lawyer Extraordinaire.”
“What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you have picked up Lola from daycare downstairs? It’s almost six.”
She closes her laptop as though I reminded her of the time. “It’s okay, Hayes picked her up, and I’ll meet them at home. It’s end-of-year financials, so it’s crunch time for me.”
Leaning against the door, I can’t help admiring how she juggles work, motherhood, and Hayes re-entering her life. Am I just looking for proof she’s okay? “All good on the romance front?” I double-check.
Elodie smiles warmly as though she wants to gush. “It is. The power of Everhope and a bench on Main Street does wonders in improving communication and ending disagreements.”
I laugh. "Very true." I haven’t forgotten why I stopped by her office. "Thought I’d say hi before my meeting with Foster." That’s my lead-in. "Hey, what’s the deal with him?"
Her smile drops, and her nose lifts slightly to inspect me. “As in?”
I shrug, keeping it vague. “Is he always a little… overwhelming, but in a good way?”
Elodie lets a knowing groan loose. “No. Oh no.”
I stand at attention, wondering what she’s thinking. “What?” I sound defensive. “It’s a fair question. I’m working with him.”
She shakes her head. “You have that look.”
“I do not,” I chide, doing my best to maintain a neutral face.
“You do. Is he charming you? Because I’ve heard he has that effect on women.”
Creases form on my forehead. “Women? As in, there are a lot?”
She studies me for another second, and her demeanor says she gives up.
“Fuck it… there are no women. I mean, he was named in one of those articles about being a leading bachelor in the city, more probably because of his family’s company influence than anything.
He most definitely wouldn’t volunteer for that title.
I’m sure half the single women in this city would fall to their knees for him, but he hasn’t had a girlfriend for a while, and I have no intention of imagining what his policy on casual dating and hookups is.
I’m the one who has to deal with him daily, as I report to him.
I’ve already added that he’s the best friend of my baby daddy aspect to our dynamic.
Now, do I need to add my best friend is… ah, gah.”
I gasp softly. “Don’t be silly. I’m just curious.
We walked around Everhope. He’s a groomsman, I’m a bridesmaid in Savannah’s wedding, and now I have this case…
That’s a lot of Foster time.” I drag out my sentence.
Am I convincing? Am I deflecting? My curiosity, my excuses—they’re getting harder to separate.
“Yeah, sure.” Her tone confirms I haven’t convinced her.
“Look, Savannah ended up with her boss, Julian, who works here, and I would be a hypocrite to say don’t go there.
Hell, you two are the only single ones in the bridal party.
” At the wedding of the century with an open bar of the most expensive whiskey on the planet, which probably does mystical things to people, reducing inhibitions.
"I’m not. I’m a professional who acknowledges conflicts of interest, and I’ve only just started working here.
” Still, I feel a bit defensive explaining myself.
I’m also a woman who can keep that separate from my personal life; sex is natural and something to be enjoyed.
Being slightly annoyed, I sense Elodie knows my view, which is probably why she called me out on the true nature of my question.
She finally relaxes and smiles. "As a friend, I respect the guy. He’s cold when needed, fair, and always understanding when I need to dash out because of Lola. I can’t think of any red flags."
Admittedly, a small start of a smile begins on my mouth, but I manage to stop it from blooming. “That’s good to hear since I’m working with him and have a meeting now.”
“Sure.” Her voice is full of disbelief.
“Anyhow, I should let you finish up.”
“Thanks. Are you sure you don’t want to stop by for brunch on New Year’s Day?”
My parents are busy with their move and staying in Florida, which means I have the day to myself.
It doesn’t disappoint me too much, as I’m not that crazy about holidays.
“Maybe. I’m kind of looking forward to downtime where I can stay in my pajamas all day.
Plus, you should enjoy spending your first New Year's together with Hayes.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
I give her an appreciative look before stepping away and heading to Foster’s office.
Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to seeing him all day.
It’s crazy, but I want to discover more about him, enjoy our flirtatious volleys, and see what suave move he tries today.
He intrigues me and weakens me with a single look.
And now I discovered that he is sinfully sexy as he stands with his back to me overlooking the city at night, lights twinkling from the tall buildings.
His blazer is off, but his vest remains as he rolls up a sleeve, revealing his forearm.
Foster’s a man at the end of a day that he probably conquered.
But he also gives the impression, whether intentional or not, that he’s preparing himself for a battle.
One that might involve me and my resolve.
“Sutton.” He hasn’t even turned to see that it’s me.
“I’m impressed you guessed that right,” I say, entering his office.
He chuckles, and it’s almost devilish. “Easy to do. You are apparently my sixth sense.” When he turns, our eyes instantly catch.
“Should I feel lucky about that?”
“You should. I can also highlight that I’m aware we have a scheduled meeting now, which also helps.”
I crack a slow, easy smile. “Clever.”
He outstretches his arm, gesturing for us to sit in his meeting area. I take the corner of the sofa, while he sits in the armchair. Our legs could easily touch; his presence feels too close, and the air is heavy.
He sits, crossing a leg over his knee. “I’m on board with your suggested clauses. Not sure why Adam didn’t figure that out before he became ill. Why agree to their six-month payment timeline?”
Work. Straight to it. That's fair—it is the priority.
“Because we’ve added a midway transfer payment. A third at the start of the transfer, a third when the product is halfway to its destination, and then the final payment when everything is complete.”
Foster rubs his chin, thinking. "Makes sense. I need something more tight-knit. I’m not a fan of the payment schedule."
“You need to give a little more rope, Foster,” I counter.
He doesn’t volley back, and instead, for the next ten minutes, we discuss the further issues at hand.
“I can reach out to Klink’s lawyer to push to get this signed and dusted before the end of the year,” I say.
He waves me off. “It’s okay. I don’t want to rush this.
In truth, I would much rather have this done in the new year.
It’s easier to close this year’s numbers and start Q1 of the new year strong, which is promising for the budget and shareholders' confidence. Besides, I doubt much of the office is in between now and New Year’s. ”
“Fair point,” I agree. Our project conversation seems to be winding down.
“Do you have any plans?” he asks, and that’s the sign that I’m right.
I shake my head. "Not really. My parents are busy setting up their lives in Florida. Retirement phase and all. They just got back from Iceland and visiting the Norwegian fjords for a few weeks."
“Believe it or not, even with all my travels, I have yet to visit Iceland or the fjords of Norway to see the northern lights. It’s somewhere on my bucket list, too, I guess.”
“Must be a theme because our lists are looking alike. Do you have plans for the holidays?”
Foster scratches the back of his neck, and his face sours. “Unfortunately.”
I chuff a laugh. “What does that mean?”
“I mean, I’ll have breakfast with my dad, and my brother will probably show up. Having them together in the same room isn’t exactly a day at the spa. Conversation can get a little… tense.”
“Ah. I see. Yeah, I wouldn’t be thrilled to deal with unwanted conversations either. New Year’s?”
“Haven’t decided. A few buddies invited me to a few events. Not sure I’m in the mood. End-of-year finance this year has been exhausting beyond the norm.”
I plant my hands on my crossed knees. "Trust me, a day on the sofa is my New Year’s calling.
I’ll try anything once, and this is a plan I’ll happily attempt.
Moving back to Illinois and starting here has overloaded my brain a bit.
Plus, I’m not stepping into a room surrounded by lovey-dovey couples from our friend group. "
He grins. “I second that.”
I spot something on his desk, unsure why I missed it before. I stand and ponder, his eyes on me. My fingers feather the turquoise marbles of the Newton’s Cradle.
“I haven’t seen one of these in ages.” I lift the last marble, releasing it to start the movement. Hearing him leave his spot and stride over heightens my senses. It’s impossible to be near him without reacting.
“My mother got it for me.”
“I kept something special too. I haven’t unpacked them yet since my move, but my parents got me fifty of my favorite case studies when I graduated from law school.
The perfect number for an at-home bookshelf.
Nothing screams stereotypical lawyer like dark books with gold lettering on the spine,” I joke.
“But seriously, it’s sentimental. That’s a lot of expensive law books for one wall. ”
“When my mom gave it to me and told me every desk of a sophisticated man should have one. It’s elegant yet can calm you in a fucking crisis. Her words exactly.” I hear him smile when he explains.
“Love that.” Glancing over my shoulder, he’s near but stopped to give us some distance. “Coconut pie and this. Sounds like a great woman.”
A wave of sadness tints his face. “She was.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to rem—”
“Nah, it’s okay.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I feel compelled. I’m not sure we’re two people who make small talk on the surface; we can dig a little deeper, as we have that natural comfort with each other. “May I ask what happened?”
“You haven’t checked the internet? It’s probably the first thing to pop up. Or maybe Elodie or Savannah said.”
“No. I’m not one to search for gossip on the internet. I’d much rather hear it from the source.”
He comes to sit against the edge of his desk to be side by side with me. “She had a brain tumor. She found out, and a few months later, she was gone.”
I gently touch his arm in comfort. “That’s devastating.”
“It was, it is.” He seems at peace with it. I go mute because I’m not sure how to respond. He throws on a grin, determined to change topics. He bumps his shoulder into mine. “So, you haven’t talked at all about me with Elodie?”
Simpering to myself, it’s almost cute the way he is fishing for me to sing his praises. “Should I have? No need to be cocky, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“It doesn’t. Nor would I ask her if you have some sweatshirt from an ex-boyfriend’s law school still in a box somewhere.”
I snicker at his thought. “Nope. I’m not one to hold on to things if they've run their course and are done. Emotions have their own place, only to be unlocked when you want them to.”
“Ah, now I’m positive that you and I are aligned even more.”
“Perhaps.” We might go in a circle, chasing each other until someone captures what they want.
Except it’s obvious that we might desire the same thing. Deciding it is the right time to exit our encounter that yet again flows so easily, I smirk at him as I begin to walk away, purposely including a slow, sensual sway, not looking over my shoulder but aware he’s surveying my every move.
His voice sounds. “I know a spot with great tiramisu. Can’t tempt you with dinner?”
Some things we need to get out of our systems. Whatever is transpiring between us is one of them.
“I did mention a possible raincheck last time.” I don’t turn around yet.
“I still owe you a tip.”
My mind is completely filthy because I imagine what else that could mean, and it involves him.
Turning on my heel, I see that he hasn’t moved, his smirk still perfectly in place and his eyes set on me.
“Maybe I’ll cash in on that raincheck now.”
“Good.” He seems satisfied and moves around his desk. “I know a place. I can meet you downstairs in ten minutes. I’ll have my driver waiting.” He doesn’t look up as he closes up his laptop, as though our work meeting is adjourned.
I chortle at that sentence. “Of course you would say that. But you know we could walk somewhere or order in.”
“Sutton, sweetheart, you and me alone in a room is a dangerous play.” His voice swelters.
“I’m not afraid of danger,” I challenge confidently.
His eyes sweep over me, casting me in appraisal. “Good, then you won’t mind that I might need to show you why it’s a bad idea.”
I won’t mind one bit.