Deb was a friend as well as a colleague. “He dates tall,
blonde and slender.” I’m medium ,
Grace thought. Medium brown hair, medium height, medium brown eyes…medium
everything. Antonio’s girls were always spectacular.
“Nonsense,” Deb scoffed. “You have a
fantastically curvy figure I’d give my right Manolo Blahnik for.”
“I happen to know you got those shoes for
a steal off eBay so that doesn’t mean much,” Grace said with a crooked smile.
“Anyway, let’s get back to work. The Nelson case awaits.”
* * * * *
“Why did the chicken cross the road to
climb Mount Everest?” Grace asked as she slid onto the barstool next to Antonio
later that night. She had to be loud to be heard over the basketball game and
the buzz of the crowd. Typical Thursday night at Finnegan’s.
“Uh-oh. I know I’m going to regret
asking.” He rolled his eyes. “Why?”
“Because it was there.”
“Ughhhhh. That is so bad,” Antonio groaned.
“That’s definitely not a winner.” He smiled and a crinkle appeared at the edges
of his eyes.
She adored that crinkle. He ran a hand
through his black hair, and the gesture was almost enough to make her salivate.
She wanted to run her fingers through more than just his hair. “Well, if you
have the winner, let’s hear it.”
“Okay,” he said, signaling the bartender
for another beer. “Why did the chicken get out of a car, cross the road and
then get into a taxi?”
She could only shake her head. “Dunno.”
“To get to the other ride.” He chuckled.
“Get it? The car is one ride and—”
“Yeah, I get it,” she said, stifling a
smile…and the urge to lick his scrumptious Adam’s apple. “Cute, but not a
winner. I’ve got the winner. Mount Everest was just the warm-up.” Then she
cleared her throat before starting. “A priest, a chicken and a lawyer go into a
bar.”
“A lawyer.” He laughed and took a sip from
the bottle. “I like it already.”
“When they get inside the door, the
bartender stops them, points and says, ‘Get out, buddy. Nothing fowl is allowed
in the bar.’ Then the priest speaks up and says, ‘It’s okay. He’s a good guy.
The chicken and I will vouch for him.’”
A laugh burst from him. “Slightly better
but still horrible.”
“You know it’s the winner. You laughed.”
“Only to humor you.”
“You? Humor me?” Grace regarded him with
narrowed eyes and lips pursed to prevent a smile. “You’re such a liar. I’m the
one doing you the favor. It’s a lot of work coming up with these high-quality
jokes just to amuse you.”
“Why?” he asked, punctuating the question
with an overdramatic wave of his hands. “Oh, why are you so good to me?”
“Because you’re incredibly sexy and I
crave your body.” Grace delivered the line in a monotone.
Antonio stared at her, and she kept her
face carefully deadpan as he scrutinized her with the strangest expression on
his face. After a few seconds, he chuckled. “You win,” he said, slapping both
hands on the edge of the bar. “I’m buying tonight.”
“Good,” she said. “‘Cause I should still
be at work on the Nelson case. Instead, I’m here with you.”
“Why don’t you settle that Nelson
stinker?”
“Our esteemed senior partner doesn’t want
a settlement.”
“That’s ’cause he’s making you try it,” Antonio said. “He doesn’t
have to deal with a loser. But he also doesn’t want to lose the billable hours
from a trial.”
“No comment,” she mumbled, examining the
floor.
“You need to stand up to him, Grace,”
Antonio said, his expression serious. “You fight like hell for your clients,
but you won’t fight for yourself. You let people get away with too much. You’re
a people pleaser.”
“If by people, you mean my employers, then
yes.” Grace took a sip of beer. “I need this job.”
“You’re a fantastic attorney.” Antonio
gazed at her in the eyes. “You could get a job anywhere.”
“Says
Jerry B. Jenkins, Chris Fabry