Shifters at Law (A Complete Paranormal Romance Shifter Series) Page 16

  The emotional give-and-take of relationships has always confused me, though, and it’s always been something I’m not really interested in. I don’t like opening up to people. I don’t like them knowing things about me.

  But as Anna snuggles against me and allows me to just hold her, I can’t help but wonder why it feels so peaceful, why it feels so right. Holding this woman, who is a stranger to me, shouldn’t make me feel complete.

  It shouldn’t make me feel whole.

  I take a deep breath, and then I kiss her on the forehead.

  “I should go,” I say, echoing her words.

  “Time to get to work?” She asks quietly, turning to look at me. She’s still covered in a thin layer of sweat. I put that there. I made love to her and now she’s sweaty. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is messed. She looks like a woman who was taken care of.

  She looks content.

  And I feel content when I look at her, though I can’t really say why.

  “I should get started on your case,” I tell her. “I have some time before my next appointment, so I’ll see what I can do about getting you an appointment with the judge.”

  Anna nods and gets up. She starts walking around, looking for her clothes. As she finds each piece, she slowly gets dressed, and watching her is its own sort of sexiness. Stripping a woman is one thing, but watching her get redressed is enticing all on its own.

  Except now I’m just thinking about how sexy she looks under all those clothes.

  I’m remembering the way she looks when she comes, and I know I’m never going to be able to look at Anna Donovan in the same way again.

  “Thank you for helping me out,” she says, slipping her shirt on over her head. She smiles at me. “I know you took my case on short notice.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  “It was quite a pleasure, wasn’t it?”

  We look at each other for a moment and there’s a sort of tension in the air. Will Anna and I sleep together again? I want to, and judging by the way her eyes keeping sliding to my cock, she’s not opposed to the idea. Sleeping with a client is a horrible idea, which is why I never do it, but she’s different.

  I feel like it’s fine to make an exception for Anna.

  It’s totally fine to let my guard down just this once.

  “So what happens now?” She’s slipping her boots on and I realize I should get dressed, too. Clothes. Clothes are good. I find my shirt and pull it on. Then I start looking around for my boxers.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you an appointment with a judge. If we’re lucky, he’ll be able to see you in the next month. Then you can contest the trust. We’ll argue that the clause is outdated and was possibly slipped in without your father’s knowledge.”

  “And if we’re not lucky?”

  I sigh as I wiggle into my jeans. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to Anna if we don’t get an appointment with the judge, or if the judge won’t demand the conditions of the trust be altered. A tiger clause is ridiculous. It’s absurd. It’s a terrible thing to put into a trust and it’s awful that Anna is dealing with this.

  “If we’re not lucky, then there’s only one way you’re getting your trust,” I tell her with a little growl. I’m more upset than I should be about her situation. It’s not fair to her. She’s sweet and innocent. She doesn’t deserve what’s happening.

  “Getting married to a shifter,” she says with a sigh. She’s finished getting dressed and is sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to finish. I slip my shoes on and stand up, looking at her.

  “Getting married to a shifter,” I repeat.

  “Guess it’s time for me to download Turntable,” she says. “’Cause I’m pretty sure I just ran out of luck.”

  Chapter 7

  Anna

  Oliver Lyon is the hottest fucking man on the face of the planet and I think I might have a huge, not-so-tiny, not-so-manageable crush on him. My consultation today was free, so I don’t need to stop in and see Joyce to pay for anything. I’m thinking that if I can make it downstairs without being too loud, I might be able to slip outside unnoticed, but once again, fate has other plans for me.

  “Exploring the building?” Joyce says when Oliver and I reach the bottom stairs. She raises an eyebrow and smirks, letting me not-so-subtly know that she knows.

  “You could say that,” I say. “But I call it fucking.”

  Next to me, I feel Oliver tense, but Joyce bursts out laughing.

  “All right, girl,” she offers me her fist and I bump it. “Get some.” She looks at Oliver. “Lyon,” she says. “Nice job. She looks very satisfied.” Then Joyce disappears down the hall.

  “What the actual fuck?” Oliver whispers.

  “What?”

  “You just told her.”

  “Like she didn’t know.”

  “But you didn’t have to tell her.”

  “I don’t do games and I don’t do bullshit, Oliver. You should know this about me. We’re both adults. Neither one of us is married. As far as I know, you don’t have a girlfriend or reason you wouldn’t be ‘allowed’ to sleep with me. It’s not a big deal. It was sex, and oh, it was good sex. Hot as hell, in my opinion. You bet your ass I’m telling all of my girlfriends about this.”

  “Um, okay,” Oliver suddenly looks nervous. He’s not used to being around women who are blunt, I realize. Do women tend to sneak around when it comes to him? Do they use him? Is that what he’s worried about? And then it hits me: he’s a lawyer. He’s a big attorney in Bradshaw and he’s not going to want people to know what happened. He doesn’t need the womanizer reputation it would bring.

  “Hey,” I smile. “Don’t worry. I would never tell anyone your name or any identifying details. I just mean I’ll tell my friends I slept with someone super incredible who taught me something new.”

  “What did I teach you?”

  “That bravery in bed can be very rewarding,” I lean up on my tippy-toes and give him a soft kiss goodbye. “Thank you, Oliver.”

  “I should be thanking you.”

  “If you really feel that way, you should take me to dinner.”

  “Is that right?”

  “You don’t strike me as the traditional type,” I tell him. “Do you think you should be the one to invite me out?”

  “Not at all. Dinner sounds delicious,” he sounds amused.

  “You have my number,” I tell him. “Call me. We’ll set something up.”

  Then, before anything else crazy happens, before I find myself back upstairs in Oliver’s bed and in his arms, I turn and walk out the door. I don’t look back. I just walk away and head to my car, start the engine, and leave.

  I leave the law offices of Casa, Fee, and Lyon, and I drive to work.

  The whole time, I’m just thinking that I’m in so over my head.

  So over my head.

  *

  I work halfway between my house and Lyon’s office. The language school I work at offers beginner, intermediate, and advanced level classes for students who want to learn a foreign language. We teach both children and adults, but since I don’t teach until the afternoon, my morning schedule is totally flexible. This means that when I pull in late to the office, no one cares or notices. Everyone else runs errands in the morning, too.

  After stopping by my desk in the shared office, I pour myself a cup of coffee and try not to think about my morning too much. Spending time with Oliver was fantastic. No, we didn’t do a lot of talking, but neither one of us seemed to need that right now. I think what we both needed was to blow off a little steam and as far as I’m concerned, we got to do that and it was incredible.

  It was more than incredible.

  It was hot.

  Fantastic.

  Dirty.

  It was wild, and even though he pushed me and asked me to try some new things, I still felt like I was in control. If there’s one thing I haven’t felt in awhile, it’s control. My whole world ha
s been spinning since my mom died and I don’t think it’s going to slow down anytime soon.

  No, I think things are going to get crazier and crazier for me unless Oliver can actually convince a judge I shouldn’t have to get married to someone I don’t love. If he can’t do it, I’m going to have to get on Turntable and find a guy. I’m going to have to find someone who is not only bearable to hang out with, but who’s a shifter. I’m going to have to find someone who’s willing to be married to me for a year and then get a quiet divorce.

  And the thing about shifters is that they tend to mate for life.

  Finding someone to marry me is going to be hard, but someone willing to get a divorce? That’s going to be even tougher, and the truth is that the idea of getting a divorce still makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that I would feel like I was using someone, even though that’s totally the case. It’s more that I really do have a fairytale view of marriage. It’s that I really do think you should marry someone and it should be forever.

  “Rough morning?” I jump at the sound of Rita’s voice. “Sorry, thought you saw me,” she says, coming up beside me and pouring herself a cup of the questionable brown liquid. Oh, it’s coffee. Sort of. Who knows how old it is, though? I need to start doing what the Spanish teachers do and bring my own coffee from home. That’s what travel mugs are for.

  “I just had some errands to do,” I tell the redhead. Rita is one of the administrators at our school. Advantage Language Mentors offers one of the best language programs in Kansas. Our students come from not only Bradshaw, but from surrounding towns, as well, in order to learn the language of their choice.

  “You teaching today?”

  “Not until after lunch.”

  “Same,” she says, sipping her coffee. “But I have a ton of lesson plans to finish before then.” Even though Rita is an admin, she’s substituting this week because one of the teachers recently quit and hasn’t been replaced.

  “Things have been pretty busy lately.”

  “We need to replace Brian as quickly as possible,” Rita confides in me. “After he quit, everything kind of went to hell in the French department.”

  “Well, the school’s pretty lucky you know enough French to teach the beginner classes.”

  “You’re telling me,” she rolls her eyes. “I tell you what, Anna, no one ever truly appreciates us.” She shakes her head. “Not the students, not the parents, and certainly the other teachers.” She sighs. “Sorry, I’m just being negative because I’m tired.”

  “No, it’s totally fine,” I smile. “I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes this job totally sucks because we don’t get a lot of praise. The students come in and haven’t finished their homework or don’t know the vocabulary for the week, and it sucks. We push and push and push and there’s very little thanks in this job.”

  “How do you do it?” She asks, leaning in and lowering her voice, like it’s a secret. “You’re one of the best language instructors we have.”

  “Well, when things get hard, I just try to remember why I learned American Sign Language. My best friend in high school was deaf and instead of texting her all the time, I wanted to learn her language. I started taking classes my junior year and majoring in ASL in college just seemed natural. So when my students don’t know something, or they’re struggling, I try to remember that I didn’t start teaching in order to be praised. I started teaching because I love the language so much.”

  “I’m not going to lie, Anna. I’ve never really felt that way about French.” Rita shrugs. “I mean, I can speak it pretty damn well and I’ve been all over Quebec and Paris, but I don’t have the joy you seem to have.”

  “Not everyone is meant to be teaching,” I tell her honestly. “And that’s fine. Maybe teaching isn’t your thing. Maybe you prefer to be on the paperwork end of things. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Thank you. I’ve been feeling really overwhelmed with everything this week, you know, and I appreciate that. It’s nice to know that not everyone thinks I’m a huge failure for not enjoying teaching.”

  “I don’t think anyone thinks you’re a failure.”

  “You’d be surprised. Hey, do you think this coffee is from today?”

  “Fuck,” I look down at the grime in my mug. “I sure hope so, Rita. I sure hope so.”

  Chapter 8

  Oliver

  “What the hell are you doing?” Joyce appears in my doorway after lunch. I’m finally wearing proper lawyer clothes: a suit and tie. Still, no one has the power to intimidate me the way Joyce does. She’s part secretary, part administrative assistant, part Wonder Woman, I think.

  “What?”

  “You know what I’m talking about, dumbass.” She walks into my office and slams the door a little too hard, rattling the walls.

  “Is this about Anna?”

  “Yes, it’s fucking about Anna. Fuck her all you want, Oliver. Fuck her, make her come, make her scream, I don’t care. Just don’t use her, Oliver. Don’t you dare you use my friend because when you’re done, I’m going to have to be there to pick up the pieces, and I don’t want to see the mess you’ve made.”

  My eyes narrow at Joyce. She’s always been protective of her girlfriends. This isn’t anything new, but it is more intense than usual.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because you’re a private asshole who doesn’t share anything about himself with people, Oliver. Nobody knows anything about you. I don’t know what your favorite color is. Hell, I don’t even know what your hobbies are, and we’ve been working together for years. Not six months. Not a year. Years. As in plural.”

  “Just because I don’t talk about myself very much in my place of business doesn’t mean I’m private. I just don’t think work and social life should always mix.”

  Joyce lets out an irritated screech and kicks the wall.

  What the actual fuck?

  I’ve never seen her lose her temper, much less get so angry she felt the need to kick something. This is a side of Joyce she doesn’t let loose very often, and for some reason, I get the feeling this isn’t a good thing.

  “She. Is. My. Friend.” Joyce grits the words out between clenched teeth.

  “Everything okay in here?” Ronan appears in the doorway. He’s eating an apple and acting like he doesn’t have a care in the damn world. I wish I could be so lucky.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say.

  “No,” Joyce spins around and glares at him. “Everything is not fine.”

  “What’s wrong?” Now Ronan does look a little concerned. Good. He can enjoy the wrath of Joyce right along with me.

  “What’s wrong is that Oliver fucked my friend.”

  “Oliver is an adult. He can have sex with people if he wants to.”

  Realizing she isn’t going to win Ronan to her side, she looks back at me.

  “She’s important to me, Oliver. She’s really, really important to me. Please,” she lowers her voice, and for the first time, shows a little bit of vulnerability. What the hell? Where is this coming from? Joyce is nothing if not fierce. She’s certainly not vulnerable. She’s certainly not a worried mother hen. I would never think that of her.

  “I’m not going to hurt her, Joyce.”

  “Is she your mate?”

  “You know I don’t believe in mates.”

  “Just…be careful, Oliver. She’s been through hell and back again. I know she seems strong, but don’t we all?”

  “Joyce, is everything okay?” Something tells me the question could be the wrong one, but I need to know.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” Ronan pipes up.

  “What are you talking about?” She asks, but she doesn’t look at him. Her scent isn’t angry or scared. Her scent is embarrassed. What the hell? Why would she be embarrassed, ashamed? Joyce, as far as I know, is an incredible person. She’s a model employee. She’s funny. She’s interesting. She’s fucking beautiful.

  R
onan looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I shrug because I don’t know what he’s getting at. If Joyce is having problems in her personal life, I don’t know. I don’t have any idea.

  “You’ve been working late,” he points out. “You’ve been working weird hours. You’re here when we get up and you’re here when we leave for the day. You’ve been working weekends, but you haven’t billed us for overtime and I assume we aren’t paying you for that time since you haven’t said anything. You haven’t been going to all of your classes on the weekends anymore and you’ve been ditching a lot of the clubs you’ve been a part of. Oh, and I haven’t heard you talking about your friends in awhile.”

  Joyce is silent, but Ronan isn’t done.

  “Something’s going on with you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Joyce finally looks up at him. She tries to glare, but her eyes are glistening with tears, and I quickly move to her and wrap her in my arms. Ronan hugs her from the other side: a big, awkward, family hug. We hold Joyce as the tears slide down her cheeks. We hold her as the whimpers turn to sobs.

  “What’s wrong, baby girl?” Ronan’s words are soft, gentle. We both love Joyce like the sister we never had. She’s an integral part of our office, yeah, but she’s more than that. She’s sweet, and she’s gentle, and she’s compassionate. She takes care of us, and I realize suddenly that we haven’t been taking very good care of her lately.

  Ronan and Landon are both caught up with their mates. Ronan’s wife, Lara, just gave birth to their first child, and Landon recently moved in with his wife and son. Everyone has families and spouses now except for me and Joyce, but still, it’s no excuse. We should have been taking care of her. Shifters take care of their own.

  It’s part of what makes us who we are.

  “Nothing,” she shakes her head.

  “Sweetie, I think the time for lies has come and gone.”