“Don’t go blabbing about it. You’ll ruin my rep.”
“Oh yeah? Your secret is safe with me.” Her face grew serious as she crossed her heart.
“Wanna hope to die or stick a needle in your eye?”
She rolled her eyes but smiled a relaxed smile at me. “Not really, no. But I’ll keep your secret anyway.”
“So how about your secret?” Why the fuck was I asking that?
She paled. “What secret?”
“I couldn’t exactly help but overhear you and your dad the other day, arguing about the bar exam.”
“Oh, that.” The wind had been swept out of her sails. “It’s not a secret, really. The bar exam was just his dream, you know?”
“Yeah? It seems that it’s affecting you enough that you might have shared that dream with him.”
“Maybe. I just don’t know what I want anymore.” There was definitely more than her father to this issue.
It was obvious that she was a bit brokenhearted about her decision not to take the exam. “Want to tell me about it?”
We walked and talked, and walked some more. She talked about the bar exam, and her passion shone through. She became animated talking about it. She clearly enjoyed the prospect of becoming a lawyer, but there was something there. Other reasons for her not wanting to take the exam.
“You know, I think taking the exam would be good for you. You’re really passionate about it. Even I can tell that. Maybe it’s worth reconsidering.”
She stopped and stared out over the ocean. Then she surprised me again. “Maybe you’re right.”
I let it go after that, and the conversation turned light again. Our hands were intertwined most of the day, and as we approached our towels, she pressed herself closer to me.
“So, should we take this back to your place?”
This woman was seriously something else. I hesitated. She quickly let go of my hand, started gathering her towel, and turned to leave.
“Maybe next time,” I said. “I just don’t really bring women home to my place. Too complicated.”
“Sure, James, whatever. It was just a suggestion. I’ll see you around, okay?”
Chapter Twelve
Gabrielle
I muttered under my breath as I sank back into the ridiculously uncomfortable couch in my father’s waiting room. I had to wait for him to see me. Again. I hadn’t even been early this time.
“His teleconference is running over,” a different receptionist than the last one had informed me and had then instructed me to wait. At least she’d offered coffee straight off the bat.
“How long have you been working here?” I hated small talk, but I was bored. And irritated. I wasn’t about to let my annoyance fester. I had to keep my damn cool this time around.
She seemed confused at my question as she handed me my coffee. “Three years or so. Why?”
“I was just wondering what happened to his regular receptionist.” Not that I cared, really. It didn’t matter to me what the face looked like that told me to wait for my appointment to see my own father. I just really sucked at small talk and couldn’t think of anything else to ask.
The confusion in her eyes cleared up. “Oh, you mean Olivia. She’s on break. I fill in for her when she has to step out.”
; “Ah, okay. That makes sense, I guess.” Well, that was that for that line of questioning. I was about to ask her what she thought about the weather we’d been having when my father’s voice crackled on the intercom.
“You can send her in now, Rose.” Lucky me.