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You would think that—as a therapist in training—I would be more at peace with displays of emotion. And I totally am. When those emotions belong to someone else.
It’s my own emotions I have trouble dealing with.
And as much as I don’t want to cry in front of anyone, I really, really, really don’t want to cry in front of the heartless, soulless, lawyer who doesn’t even visit his grandmother enough!
So I just stand there, glaring up at him, grinding my teeth so hard I’ll probably need dental work, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth as if that force alone can shove those damn tears back up my tear ducts, meeting his gaze with all the fierce defiance I can muster.
I refuse to cry in front of him. But I refuse to cower either.
I expect him to back down. Because what man in his right mind doesn’t back down when faced with a near-hysterical banshee who maligns his profession? But instead, he just studies me, like I’m a puzzle with too many missing pieces.
After a long minute passes, he gives a nod. “Dobson, Garza, and Hobbs?”
“What?”
“Your father’s lawyer. Someone from Dobson, Garza, and Hobbs, right?”
“How on earth could you possibly guess that?”
“You were upset before I even got on the elevator, which seems to indicate you just visited with a lawyer. There are six law firms in this building. Only two of them on the floors above mine. One does criminal defense. The other is Dobson, Garza, and Hobbs.”
I blink in surprise, my mouth dropping open. “Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”
“Hardly. Just a man who’s been in this building for long enough to know who else has offices here.”
“Right.” I take a step back and sag against the wall, suddenly more tired than I’ve been in a long time. But at least I don’t feel like crying anymore.
“Yeah,” he says with mock seriousness. “Also, we meet up once a month as part of the league of super villains.”
I roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt to make me laugh. “So you admit lawyers are super villains?”
“Oh, no. We’re just normal villains, but we do pro bono work for underprivileged super villains. To make it fair.”
I give a huff of laughter, despite myself. Darn it, I do not want to be amused by him!
It’s bad enough that he’s physically attractive and so … so competent. If he’s funny too, I would … well, it would be unthinkable!
I refuse to be attracted to a lawyer. Especially not one who doesn’t visit his grandmother enough!
Then something occurs to me, and I straighten. “Wait. You said you’ve worked here long enough to know the lawyers in the building.”
“Yeah.”
“How long has your office been here?”
He shrugs. “Five, six years. Why?”
“Here in Austin for five or six years?”
He takes a step back, like he’s bracing himself.
I take a step closer to him. And then another. Then I poke a finger in his chest. “Because your grandmother thinks you live in Dallas. She thinks that’s the reason you never visit her. But you don’t, do you? You live right here in Austin. And you lie to your grandmother to get out of visiting her.”
He wraps his hand around my finger to stop me jabbing him in the chest. “It’s not as bad as?—”
“Not as bad as it seems?” I finish the sentence for him. “Because it seems like you’re the closest living relative of one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met.”
His lips press into a flat line, and he releases my finger.
