I nod in understanding. “Your turn.”
His eyes study mine, and I brace myself for something painful and personal. Instead, he asks, “Why did you become a lawyer?”
Not what I expected. I was prepared for him to ask about why I'd taken him to bed that night on the train. Or about Madison. Or something cutting about my mom. But this? This is genuine curiosity.
“That’s your one question?”
“It is.”
I go with the truth. “I like stories, and cases are stories. Plus, I wanted a career that pays well so I’m never dependent on a man.”
He tilts his head. “Like your mom?”
“Yup. If I’m with someone, it’s because I want them, not need them.” I say. “Childish, maybe, but there it is.”
“Not childish,” he counters. “Noble. If a bit idealistic.”
“What’s more idealistic than love?”
“Yup. It is idealistic and unrealistic.”
“Wow, spoken like a true cynic.”
“And you’re not? Your parents’ marriage was no happily ever after.”
“My grandparents have been married for fifty years—”
“That doesn’t mean they’re happy.”
“Believe me, they are.” I smile. They still hold hands and light up when the other enters the room. “My dad is incredibly happy with his second wife. Your brother also seems smitten with his wife.”
“He is,” Thorne agrees. “And if I were still a gambling man, I’d put all my chips on them.”
His wording catches my attention. “Used to be a betting man? No longer? Why?”
His expression shutters, something dark flickering across his face before he smooths it away. “That’s three questions,” he says. “You only earned one.”
He pushes away from the wall, floating onto his back, eyes on the tiled ceiling. The position exposes the long line of his throat, the breadth of his chest. “Another race for another question?”
I laugh despite myself. “No more races this morning. I need to hold onto some of my mystery.”
He rights himself, and we’re suddenly closer than before, the water gently pushing us toward each other. I can see droplets clinging to his eyelashes, the faint stubble along his jaw, the pulse beating in his neck.
“Madison,” he says, his voice lower. “You’re her guardian now. You know she’s going to want more than three months. Not with me. I’m a very bitter pill to swallow on a normal day. But when I lean into being difficult..." He stares directly at me with those arctic blue eyes. "And I will lean into it."
Ah, there’s his blunt honesty that cuts.
“But she will want to stay in Kentucky,” he finishes.
“I know.” My throat tightens. “And I can’t blame her. She lost everything when she lost our mom, and starting over in another state isn’t ideal. But it’s where I work. My friends and family are there.”
Not that I see either very much. My dad’s place is outside the city. And with my ungodly work hours, I rarely see him or friends. I’m determined for the misogynistic law firm I work for to see me as more than a skirt. I will make partner.
“I get that. There’s nothing here for you.” His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes. The air between uscharges with an undeniable tension, a dangerous undertow that threatens to pull us both under.
I should move away. Put distance between us. Instead, I take in the curve of his lower lip, remembering exactly how it felt against mine.
“We should probably get a start on our day,” I say, not moving.
