Five Ways to Fall (7 page)

With a chuckle, Ben begins making his way out, stepping around me extra slowly. “Maybe abrasive is what won me over before.”

“Wait a minute . . . You two
know
each other?” There’s definite wariness in Mason’s voice now.

Ben’s wide grin doesn’t fill me with ease. “Yeah. We met in Cancún.”

Mason pushes his big, geeky glasses up with an index finger as he looks at me. “When were you in Cancún?”

I shake my head at him. Of course he wouldn’t remember. As tidy and regimented as Mason is at work, he can be scatterbrained when it comes to regular life. He kind of reminds me of a mad scientist, without the lab coat and test tubes. “July. My birthday. Remember? You gave me tickets to see U2?”

Mason’s eyes ignite with a spark of anger. “I didn’t
give
you those tickets. You stole my credit card number and ordered them!”

I make a point of holding my hands up to my chest in mock insult. “I was merely ensuring you got me a memorable gift for my twenty-first birthday.”

“I thought you were twenty-nine,” Ben pipes in with a wry smirk.

“And I thought I’d never see you again,” I snap.

Understanding seems to hit Mason then and, when he shifts his focus to Ben, I see something that looks an awful lot like revulsion pass over his face. “Please tell me Reese isn’t the purple-haired girl Kent was talking about?”

“Reese?” I hear Ben’s voice somewhere in the background, but my brain is too busy processing key words.

Purple-haired girl. Kent. Talking about. Mexico.

For the second time in under five minutes, I feel the blood drain from my face as I’m hit with my own level of understanding. And horror. Ben isn’t just a new employee. “Oh my God. You’re
friends
with my
stepbrother
?”

Ben’s eyes cut to me, his brows shooting high up his forehead. “Your
stepbrother
?”

“Oh, fuck!” Mason starts shaking his head. “Seriously, Ben?”

I steal a glance at Mason, who
never
swears, before settling daggers on Ben’s face. “Yeah, Ben.
Seriously?
” I hiss through gritted teeth. “What would Kent have said about the purple-haired girl,
Ben
?” I haven’t admitted to that night to anyone except Nicki and Lina, and that’s only because I came back to the hotel limping. If Ben told his friends . . . and Mason knows . . . I’m going to die. Mason will totally use that against me one day. He’ll tell everyone at the firm and they’ll talk about it behind my back. I’ll walk into meetings to the abrupt end of giggles. And then I’ll be forced to kill everyone.

With wide eyes panning back and forth between Mason and me, Ben looks torn between exploding with laughter and bolting out of my office.

And that’s the perfect time for Natasha to poke her head in. “This must be Ben,” she chirps in that high-pitched voice that has grated on my nerves since day one, offering him a bright smile and a hand. “I’m Natasha. You and I will be working closely together.”

“Looking forward to it, Natasha,” Ben offers casually, scanning the female attorney’s body in front of everyone and grinning while doing it. He’s not doing it in a leery pervert way, but
I
still find it exceptionally annoying. If there’s an ounce of luck left for me in this world, Ben will get himself fired for sexual harassment.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like Natasha will be sounding any alarms. Flipping her long apricot-colored hair over her shoulder, she giggles like a complete airhead—which she’s not; she’s actually quite sharp, though I’d never boost her ego by telling her that—and says, “Great. Well, we should get started. I’m buried with cases right now. Fortunately I’ve had Reese here to help me with a lot of the legwork.” She flashes her brilliant white teeth my way. “Speaking of which, did you have a chance to get through that file?”

I knew I’d be supporting the lawyers in this job. What I didn’t know is that I’d basically be doing all the work so they could sign off and collect their hundred thousand–plus a year. I swear, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them asks me to wipe their ass soon.

“You mean the forty-two-page contract I was working on until two a.m. last night? Or the sixty-page deposition I just found sitting on my desk?” I match her giant smile, only mine is so fake and rabid that a blind dog would know to shy away. Her olive-green eyes flicker to my full cup of coffee. “Ben, how about we go to my office and let Reese get settled?”

Brilliant idea
.

She and Mason waste no time exiting my personal space.

“Extra-large for that shirt . . .
Reese
,” Ben whispers as he passes by.

I hold my breath as I watch him exit and then I rush to throw my door shut. I hide behind it, the only place that isn’t visible to the outside world, thanks to the wall of windows. But I’m sure everyone hears the thump as my head connects with the hollow wood.

This has to be karma, coming to take a giant bite out of my ass.

Chapter 6

BEN

“Nothing happened.”

“That’s not what Kent said.”

“Well, Kent wasn’t there, so how the hell would he know?” I sigh. “She was loaded.”

“Since when is a girl too drunk for Ben Morris?”

“Dude.” I shoot a glare at Mason as we find a park bench in the shade to help ward off the September midday heat, drinks and lunch in hand. Jack had to cancel plans due to a client emergency. Apparently that happens a lot.

He holds his hands up. “Sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

I watch him as he carefully unfolds and smooths three napkins over his lap and then surgically unravels some weird veggie-tofu-wrap shit, careful not to let so much as a shred of lettuce fall out. We’ve all teased Mason about his chick diet for years, but the guy’s so particular about things, he can’t even be shamed into a greasy burger. I kind of like that about him. “Are you going to eat that or marry it?”

“You saw her office, right?” he asks, ignoring me. “She’s a slob. Living with her is a fucking nightmare.” That’s two f-bombs dropped by Mason today. Swearing is another thing he doesn’t do, which tells me that either the idea of me screwing around with his stepsister or his stepsister in general really gets under his skin.

A flash of my trashed hotel room in the morning hits me and I smile to myself. “And yet she sure cleans up nice.” I get an eye roll in response. “Look, I know she’s your stepsister, but she’s fucking hot.” As much as I liked the “I don’t give a shit” wild-girl look she had going on in Cancún, this new look—with her pretty blond hair and her little dress and her boots—is a huge turn-on.

“And certifiable.” He fixes me with a look. “Seriously. Her nickname around the office is Rancor.”

Coke shoots out my mouth as I stifle a laugh. “Does she know?”

“I guess you missed the life-sized cardboard standee in her office? The day she heard Nelson from contracts slip and call her that within earshot, she rush-ordered it from some
Star Wars
website. She sets it up beside her door on the mornings when she’s
extra
annoyed.” He shakes his head at me as I explode in laughter.

For everything else about her that was a lie, I’m glad to see that biting sense of humor is genuine. I like a woman who can make me laugh. “If she’s so difficult, why would your father keep her there? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he has. I’m looking forward to working with her.”

“You won’t be for long,” he mutters. And then sighs heavily. “Even though she’s highly unprofessional and will likely get the firm sued on employee relations issues at some point, I’ll admit that she’s
really
good at what she does. All she has is a high school diploma and a paralegal certificate and yet she’s telling half the associates how to do their jobs, quoting laws and statutes. And she’s usually right. It’s disturbing, how fast she picks up on things.”

“So you’re saying she’s a genius,” I say around a mouthful of food.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says with a hint of resentment in his voice. “She’s also selfish, reckless, unreliable, and impulsive.” He downs his Perrier and mutters dryly, “All signs of a sociopath.”

“Oh, hell.” I roll my eyes. I forgot that Mason did his undergrad in psychology. “Give me a break. Your sister’s not a sociopath, Mace! You just really don’t like her, do you?”

“Stepsister,” he corrects, his tone sharpening a little. “It’s not that I don’t like her. Well . . .” He half-shrugs. “I’ll admit, I’m not overly fond of her. But really, I just don’t trust her. My dad didn’t hear from her for nine years, and then out of the blue she calls him to bail her out from a Jacksonville police station back in January?” Shaking his head, he adds, “He dropped everything and drove up there. He almost lost the firm’s biggest client that day because of it.”

Hmm . . . What was she doing in a police station?
“Does she have a record?” Not that I really care. Unless it had anything to do with performing exorcisms on guys who are trying to get laid.

“Juvenile. It was sealed when she turned eighteen. Mostly stupid stuff, from what my dad told me. Fights . . . pot . . . drag racing.”

My eyes shoot up at that last one.

“This last time was pretty serious, though. She vandalized her ex-husband’s apartment.”

My sub freezes midair to my mouth with this new information. “
Ex-husband?
Didn’t she say she just turned twenty-one?”

Mason’s head bobs. “Married at nineteen. She knew the guy for all of six weeks before they eloped in Vegas. Tell me you’re surprised that their marriage only lasted four and a half months.”

“Shit . . . That tattoo on her arm. Was that him?” It has to be. And I made that boneheaded comment about it.

“Yeah, I think so. Apparently when she went back to move her things out, she splattered red paint all over the apartment.” His eyes widen knowingly. “Do you get the symbolism there?
Red
paint . . .?”

“She’s feisty.” Again, something I knew. Again, something I like. I can’t help but note her choice in color and start to laugh. That shirt never stood a chance.

“Sounds like the divorce was ugly.”

“The guy cheated on her.”

“Shmuck.” If you can’t be monogamous, don’t get into a committed relationship, let alone a marriage. That’s my philosophy. Which is exactly why I don’t commit to anyone. “So Jack decided to bring her to Miami with him?”

Nodding slowly, Mason admits, “My dad always really liked Reese.” He snorts. “More than he liked me. But how do I know she’s not out to con him? Her mother already bled him dry once.”

I chew my sandwich silently, waiting for Mason to elaborate, surprised that he’s telling me this much to begin with. “He and Reese’s mom were married for five years before he found out she was having an affair with Barry Steele.”

Pieces start clicking together. “Warner and Steele . . . Old partner?”

Mason nods.

“That’s cold.”

“Yeah, well, Annabelle is an opportunistic, self-centered whore. She nearly destroyed my family’s legacy. It cost my dad a fortune to buy Barry out and then she tried to swoop in to pick at his bones like a vulture, but Barry wouldn’t let her. Dad’s still recovering financially. That’s why he hasn’t been able to finish the office renos.” Mason pauses for a drink. “Apparently she left Barry about two years ago and moved on to a U.S. senator.”

“Is she hot?”

“Yeah, I guess. But so was Grendel’s mother,” he mutters, making me shake my head. Leave it to Mason to reference
Beowulf
. Folding up the wrappers from his sandwich, careful not to spill crumbs on his pants, he goes on to say, “My dad’s not stupid, Ben.” Mason’s eyes look that much bigger behind those big glasses as he peers at me.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hell, he can’t possibly blame me for that night! I wasn’t even hired here yet.”

“He knows your type and he knows where you’ve been working the last four years. He almost didn’t hire you because of it. He made me promise him that you’d be able to keep your pants on before he made you an offer.”

I chuckle. “Well, you may have your work cut out for you, Mace.”

“I’m not kidding. Look, he just finished dealing with a lawsuit against Warner from three years ago. A guy from litigation was dating a paralegal. When they broke up, it turned sour. Apparently she got pretty hostile and brought it into the office. Jack eventually had to let her go and she sued for wrongful dismissal. He doesn’t want to deal with that again. That’s why he has these rules. Rules that are meant to be followed.”

Mason is a rule follower, through and through. Black-and-white. That’s what will probably make him a very good lawyer. I’m a big “gray area” kind of guy, always looking for ways to bend and reinterpret the rules. That’s what will probably make me a damn fantastic lawyer.

“If it means anything to you at all . . . he thinks you’ve got a lot of promise, Ben, but he won’t think twice about firing you if he catches you screwing around with anyone,” Mason says.

Getting fired right out of law school would look terrible. Good luck finding another job in Miami after something like that, and I’m stuck here for the foreseeable future. My mama needs at least one of her children to stay close.