If he’d just move past that centimeter of air and let his palm rest against her, then maybe she could believe in wishes, too.
“This way.” He dropped his hand and pulled a keychain from his pocket, starting up the staircase.
They arrived at a thick wooden door and Roman twisted the key in the lock until it clicked. He pushed open the door.
Lovely. The office was adorable with furniture already in place in the little waiting area. Not even second-hand furniture. He hadn’t mentioned the place came furnished.
That alone would save her a decent chunk.
A metal reception desk sat at one side of the waiting room and there was one office with its own door. Paint wasn’t chipped—also, not hot pink. The gray-patterned carpet felt new.
This was definitely fountain worthy.
There was even room against one of the walls for her own fish tank. With all the research she’d been doing for Tonya, a school of her own sounded like a great low-maintenance idea.
“We all share the conference room near the elevator.” He flicked on a light. “There’s a notebook outside the door for scheduling. It’s old school. We use pen and paper, so don’t expect to be able to sign up online or anything.”
Pulling open the curtains to let light into the space, he looked out the window and gave a little wave. Sadie glanced out the clear glass that didn’t even have water spots from last week’s downpour.
A group of elderly women were on the back patio of the retirement home waving back.
“You’ll probably want to keep the curtains closed most of the time.” Roman pulled them tight. “We also share the break room. It’s not much. One of the ladies also owns the vending machines, so they have a strict no chips and soda in the break room—outside of what the machines provide—rule. They also get testy if they find out you’re storing soda in your office, so be sure to lock that shit up tight.”
Sadie drifted around the office. It wasn’t huge. Actually, it was kind of small compared to her old space in Chicago.
But it would be hers. Her own practice coming to reality. Who needed a partnership in a fancy Chicago law firm when she could have all this to herself?
She ran her fingertip along the edge of the desk.
“How much?” Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“What can you afford?”
“I can afford free legal advice.”
Roman chuckled, coming beside her. His scent of cinnamon and orange had a subtle undertone of something cool.
She wanted to lean into him.
She didn’t. Instead, she turned and looked up at him. She generally kept her poker face firmly in place. Yet, suddenly, she really wanted this office. “Seriously, how much?”
He named a price that was well below the average for the area, adding, “And I’m certain the owners would appreciate your legal help on an as-needed basis.”
“It should be snapped up at that rate.”
He peeked out through the curtains toward the patio of the retirement home. “We’re selective in what businesses come into the building, so we don’t advertise the offices.” He leveled a stare her way. “I trust you.”
“Will they?”
“They trust me. I trust you.”
That was nice, but— “I’m still writing up an agreement. So it’s clear what I can offer.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Roman’s gaze sparkled, and the light shone through the edge of the curtain covering the window like a promise.
“You know, you’re totally saving my bacon here,” Sadie said.
He grinned. “I happen to like your bacon. I’d like another go at your bacon.”
