“Didn’t he used to date Hannah?” I asked her, referring to Hannah Quinn, Lena’s best friend from high school. Hannah was a handful. She was loud and brash and drank more than most sailors, which was pretty funny given that she was an elementary school teacher in town.
Lena flicked her hair again. “That was ages ago. He’s been single for years, though no one can figure out why. He’s such a great guy.”
“Probably because he’s been too busy sleeping through all the women in town, which is why Hannah dumped him,” Meg pointed out.
Lena’s frown deepened. “Oh right. Well, what about his brother? Seb is one tasty-looking man.”
“Aside from the whole scary-biker thing he’s got going on. You aren’t setting Skylar up with a guy who has neck tattoos,” Whitney insisted.
“You’re so judgy, Whit. When did you get so judgy? My friend Cat says he’s a big softy. That whole tough guy thing is just an act. Jenna’s car broke down outside of town this past winter and Seb stood with her in a near-blizzard until the tow truck came and then gave her a lift back to Philly,” Lena said. I was amused at the thought of Seb Sawyer with his massive muscles and scary tattoos helping out meek and mild Jenna Phelps, Lena’s college roommate. I imagined Jenna freaking out at the sight of the burly guy pulling up alongside her.
I held up my hands. “Enough already. No one is setting me up with anyone. If I want to date a guy, I’m more than capable of finding one myself. I’m not interested in Brad or his brother. So drop it.”
Lena sat back in her chair, none too happy and the other two looked chagrined. “Sorry, Sky,” Meg apologized.
“Whatever. Can we watch the movie already? I’m more than happy to spend my evenings with Mr. Swayze.” I turned on the movie and smiled as the opening credits of Dirty Dancing rolled across the screen.
Whitney chuckled. “One thing’s for sure, our girl has good taste.”
“True,” Lena conceded.
There was nothing like a good movie, booze, and friends to make your life feel almost full.
Almost.
Chapter Two
Robert
I had barely come up for air since I got in the office that morning.
Just as I liked it.
It had been back-to-back clients, then an eleven o’clock arraignment for a new client who had been arrested for being drunk and disorderly and had parents with very deep pockets. I came back to jump on a call with the district attorney’s office about discovery for an upcoming case and had only just stopped to eat lunch—at three-thirty.
“Knock, knock.” My law partner, Jeremy Wyatt, stuck his head into my office. He wrinkled his nose. “Man, open a window. It smells like stale coffee and cigarettes in here.”
“Mr. Jones was just here. I think he smoked a pack before he showed up,” I told him, getting to my feet, and opening the large window that overlooked the town square. Mr. Jones was an elderly gentleman that happened to own a third of Southport. He had come to the law firm to get some title work done for a new property. He usually dealt with either Adam or Lena, who he knew personally, but both had heavy workloads and young children, so it came to me—Mr. No Life.
Jeremy waltzed in and sank into one of the two leather chairs on the opposite side of my desk, stretching his legs out casually. I knew from years of experience that if Jeremy was in a talkative mood, I’d never get rid of him. I had known both Jeremy and Adam since law school. I had been friendly with Adam, who I shared several classes with, but had always found Jeremy to be obnoxious, even if he was one of the best students in our year. When Adam approached me about starting our firm, I had been on the fence. I was working for a firm in the city, but being a junior was only being thrown scraps. It would take me years to make a name for myself that way.
I had promised myself, for the sake of my family, that I’d find a way to be a success, no matter the cost—so that’s exactly what I did. I threw my hat in the ring with two of the best lawyers I had ever met. And sure enough, we built one of the best firms in the state.
I was proud of what we had accomplished—even if the success felt a little hollow sometimes.
“Please, make yourself at home,” I remarked dryly. But Jeremy wasn’t the kind of person to take offense or allow himself to be brushed off. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted and taking charge. And I was the kind of guy happy to operate under the radar. I counted on obliviousness.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Jeremy reached across my desk and took a handful of mints I kept in a bowl. He opened one and popped it into his mouth. “I got my check from South River Development today. I came by to thank you again for that nice six-figure bump in my wallet.” Jeremy sucked on the mint noisily.
I purposefully didn’t look at him. “You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t have time for it, you did. It all worked out.”
Last year the firm had received a call from someone interested in purchasing a large plot of land on the south side of town near the river. They planned to build a massive development that would mean a lot of new housing and businesses could come to the area. Southport wasn’t exactly thriving so the possibility of an influx in revenue was exactly what the town and surrounding areas needed. The work would be intensive. Lots of paperwork and meetings. Lots of long hours.
And the retainer was massive. More than any of us had secured on our own yet.
Jeremy and Adam had been doing flips over the possibility, but then
