Page 65 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer
“I’m serious,” I said. “What you think here, what you decide, it matters to me. I mean, unless you really did decide already?”
He tilted his head curiously. “You really wouldn’t mind dating some guy who works at Goose Run Gas?”
“Why the hell would I care about that?” I asked, hope welling in my chest. “I’m nothing fancy either. I’m just a small-town attorney, after all.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “You don’t even have a highway billboard with your face and the question ‘INJURED?’ on it in big letters.”
“Yes, truly the mark of a discerning professional,” I agreed dryly.
He lifted his chin. “You know, if you were any kind of lawyer, you’d at least appeal my decision.”
“Yeah?” The spark of hope burned a little brighter.
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve made this big speech and all, but you haven’t tried to change my mind.” He was grinning now.
“I’m actually pretty good at jury selection,” I said. “I can tell when it’s going to go my way.”
Danny laughed. “Oh, is that so?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
“Come here,” he said, and I’d never crossed a room so fast. As soon as I was within reach, Danny looped his arms around my neck and pulled me close. “Miller Clarke, I would love to date you. Case closed.”
“That’s not actually what a judge?—”
And then Danny pulled me into a kiss, and who cared what judges did or didn’t say? We could always work on his legal terminology later.
Or not.
There were plenty of things we could do instead that were a lot more fun.
When I draggedmyself in the door of Fisher Law on Thursday morning, I was late and I felt less bad about it than Iprobably should have. But then, I was feeling pretty great about everything right now on account of Danny agreeing to date me.
We’d spent last night together burning up the sheets, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration. We’d only been apart for a week, but it had felt like so much longer, and we’d made up for lost time, fucking hard and fast until we could barely move. And the sex had been incredible, but the best part? That had been after, when I’d taken the time to trace every muscle and curve of Danny’s body until I’d reassured myself he was really here with me. And he’d done the same, running his broad palms over my bare skin with a soft smile on his face. Then we’d curled up together and talked quietly until we’d both fallen asleep around three.
The alarm had gone off at five thirty for Danny’s early shift. It should have left me plenty of time to drive back, but then Danny had given me that wide, easy grin of his before ducking under the blankets and putting those exceptional blow job skills of his to work, and that had made us both late leaving the house. Chase had rolled his eyes as he stood waiting by Danny’s truck when Danny kissed me goodbye, and he’d called us a pair of fucking saps.
Neither of us had argued.
I’d swung by my place for a shower and a change of clothes first, because I was already late anyway and I wasn’t prepared to wear yesterday’s underwear. Going commando was a step too far, even for somewhere as casual as Hopewell.
“You’re late,” Marty said.
“See, keen observational skills like that are what will make you a top-notch attorney one day,” I said around a yawn. “Take your feet off the desk.” But I said it more out of habit than actual annoyance. How could I be annoyed at anything this morning when I had a job it turned out I actually loved and a shiny new boyfriend?
Marty took his feet off the desk and sat up, narrowing his eyes at me. “You look way too happy for someone who’s running late, so nothing bad’s happened. Which means something good must have happened. Did you get laid last night? Was it Danny? I bet it was Danny.”
I must have still been riding the “post-sex and new relationship” high from last night because I didn’t even try to deny it, even though I normally hated Marty getting all up in my business. But I guessed I just wanted to say it out loud. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did spend the night with my boyfriend Danny and yes, I did get laid. Multiple times actually.”
Marty’s eyes lit up. “Called it! So he’s your boo now?”
“My boo?”
“No, wait, you can’t call him that,” Marty said quickly. “That’s mine and Dalton’s. Get your own pet name.”
“Or how about I just call him Danny, like an adult?”
“Iguess, if you wanna be boring,” Marty said. “Anyway, I got you a coffee.”
