Page 41 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“You could say that.”

“Are you going to make me work for every last tidbit?”

“You’re doing a good job so far,” I reply sarcastically.

He volleys right back. “Thanks, Dad.” Pacing, he adds, “Trouble with women in your personal life?”

I blow out a breath.

I wouldn’t say that I’m having a problemwithTealey exactly. But maybe thatisthe problem. It’s so easy to be with her—a newfound fact since I’ve stopped my self-imposed ban on being alone with her.For this very reason.

It’s not really my fault. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with her? She makes me laugh, smile, and forget about the pressures of work. I’m funny around her, more intelligent, more interesting. She makes me feel that way, at least.

Around Tealey Bell, I’m not just a high-profile divorce attorney. And, for some reason, I like that.

“So, women in your personal life too?” Cade asks again.

“Probably.” Because I’m going to be in a whole lot of trouble if I keep letting my time with Tealey veer off sideways into areas we shouldn’t travel.

A hot pink lace thong comes to mind, and I can’t say any of my thoughts on those have been platonic.

Cade would kick my ass if he found out. Tealey’s like a little sister to him and Cammie. She spends the most time with them, eating dinner over there at least once a week.

Not sure if he’s joking since his expression turns serious when he crosses his arms over his chest. “When did this start? Are there any other symptoms?”

“Clammy hands. I’ve got ’em.” I hold up my hands and then press two fingers to my wrist, fighting a smile “Racing pulse. And sometimes,” I say, restraining a chuckle. “I even hear birds singing, but when I look around, there are none.” Cade’s eyes grow wide as he pretends to be concerned. “What’s wrong with me? Give it to me straight, doc.”

He moves in front of me, his large frame blocking the view. “Hate to tell you this, but you’re either about to have a heart attack or . . .”

“Or?” He sounds so serious, keeping me on pins and needles.

“You might be in love.”

I think my performance was too convincing, maybe even Oscar-worthy. “I think I’ll get a second opinion.” I burst out laughing.

In love?

Me?That’s a stretch.

Who would I possibly be in love wi—Shit.

Blond hair. Bright blue eyes . . . Nah. Not possible. I even cringe at the term crush. Infatuation probably works better. It was a short-lived infatuation back in college.

Nothing more.

Never has been.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Cade says, “I’m just a Sunday afternoon armchair sports enthusiast. I can write you a prescription to watch a day of sports to get your balls back, but that’s the best I can do.” I receive another well-meaning pat on the shoulder. He finally breaks into a grin, a shit-eating one at that. “But here’s the good news. Although I know it’s scary for you to develop feelings for the first time, worse things could happen, Rad.”

I let my posture sag, you know, to add dramatic effect from learning that I might have caught a case of “feelings” for the first time. “Like what?”

Stepping back a few feet, he laughs. “Like having anactualheart attack.”

“Don’t put that into the universe.”

“Eh, you’ve never been superstitious,” he says, kicking a rock into the grass.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

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