by Lee Kilraine
* * *
The bar association had rented out the Mint Museum in uptown Charlotte, home to cutting-edge art exhibitions and modern architecture. Jo had been to the museum a few times to tour the exhibits but never to a sit-down gala event. The multistory atrium’s sixty-foot-high glass wall let the city’s lights create a vibrant ambience for the evening. The space held round tables draped in navy-blue tablecloths, with white china plates, polished silver, and crystal glassware on top. Fresh summer flowers spilled from the cut-glass vases in glorious centerpiece displays.
“Come meet a few of my classmates from college.” Paxton led them through the room, stopping often to shake hands before they finally made it to one of the tables, where more hand-shaking commenced, this time with hugs and backslaps.
He introduced Jo around the table and she didn’t even bother trying to remember all the names. They’d all graduated from GW in D.C. and were now at the same firm but all at different locations, so there was a lot of catching up and razzing going on.
Jo sat next to one of the spouses, Julie, whose husband was shooting for partner just like all the rest. And throughout the entire meal of arugula and fennel salad, smoked pork tenderloin with minted pea risotto, and pear tart with vanilla bean ice cream, Julie filled Jo in on everything she needed to know about the competition within the law firm.
“Sure it matters where you went to school or who you clerked with, but if a lawyer can gain a solid mentor, that’s key.” Julie waved her fork to stress her point. “Sometimes it’s the little things—who your wife is friends with or who you golf with—that makes all the difference.”
“Interesting.”
Julie tilted her head toward the table to their right. “See the woman in the yellow dress? Wonderful lawyer. Very sharp. But word is her husband is working his way through all the firm’s secretaries. It’s sure to hold her back. David, across the table: he’s single, which normally would be a negative, but he’s good with names and the best golfer in the firm, so that outweighs it.”
While Julie was being very nice, all this talk about the competition only made Jo more nervous about her relationship with Mr. Pope. She could very well end up more of a negative than a positive on Paxton’s scorecard. She could use an antacid because this whole conversation had given her indigestion.
By the time the waitstaff had circled around clearing plates, Jo needed a break from Julie’s stark monologue of what it took to get promoted in the firm. She slipped out for a trip to the ladies’ room, but the office gossip was even busier in there, so as soon as she washed her hands she escaped to the terrace. Closing her eyes, Jo leaned her back against the cool metal railing enclosing the space. Just a few minutes of quiet and she’d head back in. She’d always assumed the lawyers-are-sharks comparison had to do with their behavior in the courtroom. After listening to Julie, she was beginning to think it was about the competition to the top.
“I hope you’re enjoying the party, Ms. Joyner.”
So much for peace and quiet. She opened her eyes at the sound of Mr. Pope’s voice. “I am, thank you. The food was delicious.”
“Well, we work hard at Clark, Hinders, and Pope, but we like to play hard too. Falling for a lawyer isn’t for the faint of heart. It can be grueling on a relationship.”
“I imagine there are unique challenges in any profession. Just like being in a relationship with a doctor or a soldier.”
“Quite possibly. Do you think you have what it takes to be a lawyer’s wife, Ms. Joyner?”
What? “Not to be rude, but I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”
“It’s not. I apologize. It’s just that ever since Paxton and Chloe started dating, I’ve looked at him almost like a son. I was incredibly excited about the idea of the two of them joining the firm. Hell, I was already designing new stationery: Cates, Cates, and Pope. But when Paxton asked her to come back to Climax two years ago, Chloe wasn’t ready—so she broke up with him.”
Oh wow. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but not this. Chloe had broken them up, not Paxton. The warmth of the summer evening shifted from comfortable to oppressive, and it felt like half the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. Whoa, wait. Cates, Cates, and Pope? Had Paxton and Chloe been talking marriage? She really, really didn’t want to know that.
“I have no idea why you’re telling me this.” All Paxton had said was that their breakup wasn’t mutual. She would have preferred to have kept it at that.
“Didn’t mean to. I guess seeing Paxton and Chloe both here with the firm brought back a father’s crazy wishes.” Pope shoved his hands into his pants pockets and looked out at the skyline. “I love my children, and if there’s something I can do to help them succeed—to see them happy—I do it. I admit, sometimes it’s hard to step back and let things run their natural course.”
Jo narrowed her eyes at him. Was that really all this was? She’d buy that he loved his children, but where do you draw the line on how far you go? If he was being pushy out of love for Maggie, wouldn’t he be pushing to help her toward her love of music, not law school?
He must have read the doubt on her face because he shrugged and asked, “Wouldn’t you do what you could to help someone you love?”
Yes.
The terrace door swished open and Paxton stood holding out his hand. “The music’s starting, Jo. Let’s dance.”
She let him lead her back in and straight to the dance floor, where other couples already had filled the floor. Her body was stiff as she stepped into Paxton’s arms, and even the heat from his body couldn’t evict the cold crushing around her heart.
So many thoughts stalked through her brain. If a lawyer can gain a solid mentor, that’s key. Sure to hold her back. Chloe had broken them up. Not Paxton. Cates, Cates, and Pope.
And the kicker? Wouldn’t you do what you could to help someone you love?
Yes.
Jo pulled out of Paxton’s arms as the last notes played.
“You’re awfully quiet. Did you and Pope get into it again out on the terrace?”
Shaking her head, her throat too tight for her to talk, she finally managed to release a whispered, “No.”
He tilted his head to see into her face better. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Paxton, I . . . this isn’t working out. Us, as a couple. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”
“So you’re just leaving me? High and dry?”
“No, I’m not.” She nodded behind him, and he turned to look where his ex-girlfriend had just entered the room, looking around until her gaze landed on him.
“Chloe?”
“The rumor going around town is that she came back for you.”
“What?” He pulled his gaze from Chloe and back to her. “Who told you that?”
Jo shrugged. “I don’t think it matters. She’s very nice, Paxton. You two are perfect for each other.”
“What about our deal? Me breaking up with you only to turn around and jump into another relationship wouldn’t come off as stable and committed.”
What she thought was that she needed to get out before she started crying or threw herself at him, trying to distract him from the beautiful ex-girlfriend walking toward them. “I think that isn’t something you have to worry about anymore.”
“Paxton?” Chloe reached out a hand, tapping him gently on the shoulder.
His green gaze stayed glued on Jo’s for the briefest of breathless seconds before he turned to the woman he’d dated for two years. The one who’d ended things and left him the heartbroken workaholic he was now.
“Hey you. It’s great to see you. I heard you were back in town.”
And as Chloe stepped into Paxton’s open arms for a hug, Jo stepped back and left the party as quickly as she could.
Chapter Twenty-three
Wouldn’t you do what you could to help someone you love? Yes, she would and she had, and she was miserable. She’d taken an Uber home from the Mint Museum, one of the longest rides of her life, only bro
ken up by terse texts from Paxton. The first one to verify her safety and the second to express frustration that she wouldn’t let him drive her home. She finally turned off her phone because any communication with him right now was crushing the air right out of her chest.
After paying the driver the ninety-six-dollar fare, she counted the steps to her front door. All she had to do was make it inside and then she could implode. Her shaking hand meant it took two tries to get her door unlocked, but she finally let herself into her foyer. Turning her phone on only long enough to text Paxton, she let him know she was home and then shut it right off.
She tossed her purse on the foyer table and kicked off her sandals, leaving them where they dropped. Next went the dress, peeling out of it as she walked and letting it fall to the floor on her way to the bathroom. With the warmest water she could stand, she scrubbed every bit of makeup off her face and then ripped the bobby pins from her hair. Lord only knew where they landed. Her silk robe reminded her of her night with Paxton, so that was a nope. Besides, every part of her felt cold and lonely, so she reached for the comfort of her old, familiar sweatpants, oversize T-shirt, and bunny slippers.
Ooh, did you hear that, Jojo? Just as she thought. The ice cream in the freezer was calling her name. Plus the leftover chocolate cake. And the bag of mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. And of course the wine. She couldn’t forget the wine.
Jo took it all over to the couch, spreading everything out on the coffee table and got to the business of drowning her pain. Two pieces of cake, a half-carton of ice cream, eleven peanut butter cups and a glass of wine didn’t even come close to filling up all her empty painful places.
This was dumb. Freaking dumb to be this messed up over Paxton Cates. How could she have been perfectly fine hating him practically her whole life and then, in just a few weeks, grown to—what, Jo?
Say it. You might as well say it. It’s not like this night could get any worse, right? That is correct, Ms. Joyner.
I’ll take “Dumb Things to Do” for six hundred, Alex.
The answer is: a four-letter-word for something you fall into.
What is insanity?
Ooh, close, Jolene.
What is love?
Love. She threw herself back on the couch with a groan. In the few weeks of getting to know Paxton Cates, she’d fallen for him. Not necessarily a bad thing, except for a few reasons. He only wanted six months. It was fake. He wanted to make partner, president of the bar association, and one day become a judge. Pope could help him achieve all that. Chloe could help him achieve that. The sky was the limit with Pope and Chloe helping him. And surely Pope’s dream of Cates, Cates, and Pope would become a reality.
That thought brought a sharp pain to her chest. Probably it was her heart breaking. Her eyes burned with the threat of tears, but she refused to give in to them. Instead, she grabbed up her phone, turned it back on, and pressed Speed Dial for Georgie . . . but the call went to voice mail.
What was she thinking? Georgie had to be up at four in the morning to get all her muffins, scones, and doughnuts made. She wanted to cry to Georgie about how much it hurt and how dumb she’d been. But in order to get rid of the pain in her chest, Jo was going to need to be smart about it.
In theory, if she’d fallen in love with Paxton in a matter of weeks, she should be able to fall out of love with him in the same amount of time. Except she hadn’t fallen in a few weeks. No.
She’d started falling for Paxton Magnus Cates when he cut off her pigtail and she’d been falling a little bit more ever since. Since he made his brothers wait for her before walking home from school. Since he’d made her Valentines every year, which she still had in her old pencil box packed away in her parents’ attic. Since he’d argued with her every day in the hallway by their lockers like clockwork, as if it was a regular date. Since he’d peeked at her legs in her cheerleading uniform almost as often as she hid in the back of the room to hear him debate.
The last few weeks had only brought everything out in the open and made it real. Gloriously, fantastically, sensually, painfully real.
Pull it together, Jojo. There was no point in wallowing. She gave him up. She was the one who had walked away. No one had forced her to. She’d made a choice and now it was simply a matter of following through and living with the repercussions. This wasn’t a Shakespearean tragedy. It wasn’t even a modern-day tragedy.
She refused to give in to the emotion welling in her chest and squeezing her throat closed. She’d consciously put herself in this position. Made a choice. So rather than give in to the tirade bubbling up in her stomach, she took herself to bed. Selecting the tattered copy of her favorite book from childhood, she slipped under the covers and read. She didn’t cry over her nontragic loss of Paxton, but she did bawl her eyes out over The Little Prince.
* * *
Paxton didn’t even bother to go home after he left the gala. His mind was churning too painfully fast even to pretend he’d get any sleep, so he’d driven to his office instead. And he was still sitting there at two a.m. His jacket and tie were long gone and his sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms as he tried to distract himself with work.
It turned out he couldn’t get any work done either because he couldn’t push Jo out of his head. He knew he didn’t have any right to be angry. None at all. Jo had gone out of her way to help him.
He ran a hand over his face. What was frustrating was that he couldn’t figure out where the evening had gone wrong. She’d seemed fine when he picked her up, if maybe a bit subdued. Appeared to enjoy meeting his friends and work colleagues. Sure that could be overwhelming, but she’d seemed to roll with it.
Maybe someone said something during dinner? She should have told him if she’d had another run-in Pope. He would have . . . what? What would he have done? He hadn’t stuck up for her the last time she and Pope had butted heads, although she hadn’t needed him to.
Not really the point, Pax. The point was Jo wouldn’t tell him because she couldn’t count on him to take her side instead of Pope’s. Because wasn’t that what he’d done every time up until now? With the puppy and then with Maggie?
Up until now? Why had he put it that way? Oh fuck you, Pax, you know. You’re just being a chickenshit.
He threw his feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair, staring at the stack of paper front and center on his desk. His contract with Jo. His totally invalid contract with the one and only Jolene Jolene Joyner. Hell, it wouldn’t hold up in a kangaroo court. It wasn’t worth the paper it was written on. He knew that. Jo was smart; she probably knew it too. It had been more symbolic than anything else.
Also a way to cement her guilt so she’d help him. Yes—he was an ass.
He picked it up and flipped through the pages again, a reluctant grin sliding onto his lips when he got to the addendum she’d added. He turned to the last page, wanting to stare again at her graceful, precise signature because he was obviously twisted, but there was another page stuck to it. He peeled it off, the red-wine-colored ring reminding him that Jo and Georgie had been drinking the day he’d dropped it off. Tipsy Jo was probably the only reason he’d been able to sneak in that kiss, and that kiss had been a seismic shift in their relationship.
Paxton refocused on the paper and found a handwritten list. A very interesting, eye-opening list.
Jo’s Bucket List
Travel (eat sushi in Japan)
Sleep out under the stars
Spend a full day in bed (not sleeping)
Dye hair
Skinny-dip at midnight
Crash a wedding
Taste a grape in the grocery store
Do something truly shocking
Do something completely impulsive
Get a tattoo (a henna one)
Leave handprints in wet concrete
Smoke a cigar
Give in to instalust
The list explained much of Jo’s behavior lately. She was working through her bucket list. One
item in particular caught his attention . . . give in to instalust. That sounded exactly like what had happened in the backseat of the Explorer. Was he merely an item on Jo’s bucket list? To do once and then cross off? Was that all sleeping with him had been to her? Did it matter?
He clenched his jaw tight because it turned out it mattered. It mattered a hell of a lot.
Sure he’d been a jerk to play the guilt card—but then again, if he hadn’t, he’d never have gotten to know the real Jolene Joyner.
Hell, remembering her closetful of color, he wasn’t sure she knew the real Jolene either.
They hadn’t talked about where the two of them were heading—about moving from a fake relationship to a real one—but they had communicated. Every kiss, every caress, every time they’d made love spoke of something deeper. Spoke of commitment.
At least that had been his interpretation. And his intention, even if he hadn’t known it at the time. Could he have been wrong about it? So maybe the hot sex in the back of the car hadn’t been an unspoken promise. Maybe it had been pure physical lust without a thought to the future. But maybe that had been necessary too. Because if they’d gone into a relationship slowly, they might have had too much time to think. Too much time to remember they didn’t like each other. Too much time to rebuild their defenses behind the fortresses they’d both built long ago. He needed to talk to Jo, but he had no idea where to start, let alone where he wanted them to go. Before he messed with her anymore, he should figure that out.
There was one thing he was sure of, though. He made a mental note to take care of it first thing in the morning and then left his office for home.
Chapter Twenty-four
Georgie called the next afternoon. “I’ve heard a very upsetting rumor flying around the Grapevine today. But we know its accuracy is barely above fifty percent, so I just got rid of my last customer and I’m on my way over. I’ve got supplies.”
When Jo opened the door to her friend twenty minutes later, Georgie didn’t waste time and got right to the point. “What the hell happened? I need the condensed version now, please.”