“How did you know I graduated second?” I ask, a little taken aback.
“Through the power of reading.”
My brows draw together in confusion. “Whoareyou?” For some reason, she looks really familiar. I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I’d ever met this woman before, but there’s definitely something about her features that’s tugging at my memory. I’m probably being ridiculous, though; there are tons of women with dark brown hair and green eyes.
“I’m Cait Kelly,” she tells me. “I’m one of Leona’s paralegals, which means I have the joy of babysitting the first years. Yay.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic, about that.”
She casts me an unimpressed look. “Baby lawyers. You all think you’re top shit, until the work and the pressure and the hours pile on and you end up dumping half of it on your friendly neighborhood paralegal,” she says dryly, holding a hand up.
I wince, because I know exactly what she’s talking about. Fortunately, I was saved the worst of it because I was only part-time when I was at Campbell Nixon, and because Charlie tended to keep me working on his own stuff rather than assigning me out to other lawyers at the firm—like I said, nepotism has its perks. “Well, I won’t be doing that,” I assure her. “Because Iamtop shit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ooh, goody. We’ve moved onto the lame pick-up line portion of the tour.”
My brows shoot up. “Pick-up line?” I was just telling the truth. Damn, I really need to find a way to stop exuding my charisma all over the place. I don’t want to make my new colleagues uncomfortable because they’re so overwhelmed by my charm and beauty.
I’m about to open my mouth to apologize and explain my lack of interest, when Cait pauses in her step and spins to face me, a stern expression on her face. She’s a few years younger than me, I’d say, and she doesn’t even come up to my shoulders, even in high heels; but, damn, she is not someone I’d want to meet in a dark alley. I bet she does mixed martial arts or something like that. The thought is scary as hell.
“Before you get any ideas about re-enacting a whole Mike and Rachel scenario between us, you should know I’m spoken for—twice over—and also, I have eight brothers who would all happily kick your ass.”
My brows shoot up. “Duly noted. But before you call in your attack dogs, you should know I’m gay. And even if I weren’t, I don’t shit where I eat—way too complicated.”
She grimaces. “Thanks for that…graphic clarification.” Her face clears and she studies me speculatively. “So that wasn’t a line?”
I offer a wry smirk. “Sorry to disappoint. I was just stating a fact. I really am top shit.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, at least I know I’m not going crazy.”
“You’re not?” I quirk a brow at her. “You just threatened to set your entire family on me.”
She gives a dismissive wave. “It wouldn’t have come to that. Trust me, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Yeah, I get that impression.”
“But the pack of brothers threat is a good way to keep guys with that look at bay,” she adds with a shrug.
My brows draw together in confusion. “What look?”
She waves a hand in the air around my face. “You know, that look that says “I’m so amazing and charming. I’ve screwed half of New York and my sole mission in life is to get through the other half. Don’t you want to find out how great I am in bed?””
I shrug. “If by half of New York you mean the male population then, yeah, I guess that would be a fair estimate. But I don’t do this on purpose,” I explain, gesturing to myself. “My natural charisma just flows all over the place. I have no control over this. I’m the real victim here.”
Amusement flickers through Cait’s eyes and her lips twitch in a poor attempt to hide a smile. Well, at least she has a sense of humor—that’ll be handy if we’re going to be working together.
“Just for the record, the whole playboy charm offensive thing might be great while you’re single, but when you actually meet someone you want to settle down with they’re not going to find it remotely attractive. I know this from first-hand experience,” she says with a nod, making me curious about her two partners.
“Thanks for the advice, but it’s not necessary,” I inform her. “I’m not planning on “settling down”.”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say.”
“No, I’m serious, Cait. My life is perfect the way it is. I don’t need a boyfriend, or a husband or whatever.”
She shrugs, still looking skeptical. “Okay. But I remember my brother used to say somethingreallysimilar until he met his fiancé a few years ago. And he was forty-two when that happened—who knows what you’ll be thinking in fifteen years.”
“Well, if it’s the same as it is right now I’ll be thinking “my life is perfect and I’m not changing a thing.””
She rolls her eyes. “Skyler…”
