Authors: Mae Wood
“Oh, I love SP Two.” I rolled onto my side and Trip molded his body around mine, with a protective arm thrown across my waist.
“And I love you.”
“I really hope you mean that.”
“I do.”
“I do, too.” And I fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Damn,” I said, setting down my coffee on the breakfast table. “I forgot to stop by Joseph’s yesterday to get a final fitting on that dress like your mom wanted me to do. I meant to ask you to stop after Whole Foods, but I got a little distracted by your and Josh’s frat boy routine. And it’s Sunday and they are closed.”
“Don’t sweat it. And my mom can pick it up for you.”
“I’m really not comfortable with her doing things for me.”
He shrugged. “She loves being needed. It would make her happy. Just ask her to do it.”
“It feels weird.”
“Not a big deal. Plus, I’m sure the salespeople will like her stopping in. So think of it as some sort of community service.” He winked. His sandy hair was a mess and he looked lickable in a faded cycling race t-shirt and plaid flannel pajama bottoms.
“My week is pretty slammed. Hey, I do have this client who tried to book lunch with me every day this week. What’s up with that?” I pushed up the sleeves on Trip’s navy flannel bathrobe I’d claimed for my own and rested my crossed arms on the table, giving him my best suspicious look.
“Every day?”
“Well, his assistant tried. He’s down for three.”
“He’s down for more than three lunches, let me assure you.”
“You.” I shook my head.
Exasperating
.
And lovely.
“Anyway, so, you’ve got lunch three days. I’ve got a conference call one day and my ‘lady lawyer lunch’ another day.” I pushed back from the table and sorted through the newspaper sections until I found the
Commercial Appeal
’s Style section
“There are more than one of you?”
“More than one of me what?” I asked, surreptitiously perusing the engagement and wedding announcements for familiar faces and names.
“Lady lawyers? And you get together and lunch?” He did a fake shiver. “Let me know where you meet so I can avoid it. I do not care to be eaten alive.”
I set the paper down and stared at him.
He lives to tease me.
“Whatever. It’s a networking thing. We refer each other business, complain about judges who call us ‘sugar’ from the bench, practice our sour expressions, and negotiate volume discounts on our purchases of dowdy black skirt suits. This quarter we’re looking into seeing if we can go in with the lady bankers group to get a deal on some jackets with huge shoulder pads. You know a la Melanie Griffin in ‘Working Girl.’ Gonna be a big meeting. I can’t miss it.”
“Y’all really buy clothes like that?”
“No. Are you crazy? It’s a networking thing through the Tennessee Bar Association. But otherwise, you’ve got me for lunch three days. The question is why do you want me on your calendar for lunch for three days? Please don’t say nooner.”
Trip set down the
New York Times
Book Review. “Nooner.”
“I’m not fucking you in your office in the middle of the day.”
“I didn’t think you would. Just wanted to say ‘nooner’ because you told me not to. And, also don’t think I’m not totally amazed that my girlfriend would think lunch meeting equals nooner. Good to know you’re down with one, fucking me in the middle of the day but not at my office, and two, fucking me at my office but just not in the middle of the day.”
“You are such a lawyer.”
“Am I wrong?”
I shook my head and a smile escaped my lips.
Might as well be honest.
“Nope. That’s pretty accurate.”
He laughed. “No. No nooner on the calendar, I’m sad to say. I want to have the work meeting that we should have had when we met if I had been able to think straight. I want to know where our current exposure is and what’s the risk. I want to know what weaknesses you see in our human resources department and practices. I want to know what changes you strongly recommend we make and what changes we should consider making to keep in line with industry best practices. I want to know what’s going on with this case you’re trying for us in December and how much it’s going to cost me. I want a budget through trial and an appeal. Any other lawsuits you’ve got percolating, same thing. I want an early case evaluation and budget. Then we’ll go through them.”
“Wow. Tall order before nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. I’d better get cracking.” I rose from the table. “Okay, so I’m going into the office for a bit today.”
“Because of that? If so, we can push back our business lunch until later in the week.”
“No, not just because of that. I also note that you just deemed a singular lunch to be about business. So the others are personal?”
He nodded. “Nooner.”
“You. No, I do have some other clients and a big trial coming up. So what are your plans this week?”
“I’m here. Thank God.” I put my empty coffee cup in the dishwasher and tossed the yogurt cup. “So, can I ask you something?” he offered.
“Sure,” I tentatively answered.
Those are never good words. It’s like ‘We need to talk.’
“What are we doing this week?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Besides lunch, what are we doing?” He gestured between us.
Decision time.
“Um, I don’t know. What do you want us to do?”
Nice punt, Marisa. Now let’s see if he gets the ball and runs with it.
“You have to guess?”
Aw, fuck. This is Trip. He’s going to ask me to move in again and I teed it up for him.
He smiled. “You, home with me.”
“Really?”
“Of course, really.” He pushed back from the breakfast table and walked over to me.
“Are you sure you’re going to want me in your space at the end of the day? I mean, I can work kind of late. I don’t know what your thing is.”
“You are my thing. Can we give this a test run?”
“Like me being here for real?”
He placed his hands on my shoulders and peered at me. “Yes, for real,” he replied earnestly.
“Isn’t this too fast?”
“Does it feel too fast to you? Because to me it doesn’t.”
“I don’t know, Trip,” I whined.
Great. Now I’m whiner.
“What don’t you know? You know I love you. You know we have a great time together. Let’s make this work.”
I nodded. “Okay. Can we take it one day at a time?”
“Whatever helps you sleep better, Marisa, but you know as well as I do that isn’t the truth.”
“I thought you weren’t going to push this.”
“I wasn’t, but I’m past that. I’m done. This is going to work.”
“You are so headstrong.”
“And you’re not?” His blue eyes danced with amusement. “Christ, Marisa, I’m not asking for forever. Not yet at least.” My jaw fell open. He kissed my forehead and returned to the Sunday papers, strewn across the breakfast table.
I looked at my hands.
I’m a jerk. He’s been nothing but nice. This is all me worrying too much.
“Okay.”
He lowered the Book Review and beamed at me. “Excellent.”
“You are a tough negotiator, Mr. Brannon.”
“Ah, Miss Tanner. That’s wasn’t a negotiation. A negotiation is when two sides have incompatible desires.”
“Okay,” I said, sauntering towards him.
My lovely man.
“And what are these compatible desires, Mr. Brannon?”
He pushed back from the table and patted his lap. “Come here. Let me show you.”
***
Stepping into the shower, Trip began to laugh. “What?” I snapped, suddenly feeling very naked and embarrassed.
“You have newspaper ink smudges all over your back.”
I blanched then laughed. “Whose fault is that?”
“It’s not a fault.”
“Good. See what fun we can have when I’m not worried about your mom walking in unannounced.”
“Hell, I’m changing the locks tomorrow.” I titled my head.
Is he serious?
“Kidding. She’ll respect our space. Also, I’ll get back the garage door opener that Bert has.”
My eyes grew wide. “So, exactly how many people could have walked into your house this morning and seen us going at it on top of the Sunday
Times
?”
He paused and looked up at the ceiling.
Oh, shit. He’s trying to remember who all has keys to his place. How long a list is it?
“My parents, Ophelia, Bert, the cleaning lady.” His voice trailed off. “My mom has a clicker for the garage like you do. I don’t ever lock the kitchen door to the garage, but let’s start doing that when we’re here, okay? Just in case?”
Chapter Twenty-five
On our way home from dinner with the Levitz family, we swung by my condo to pick up my work clothes. Trip parked in what I’d come to think of as his space. We walked hand in hand, chatting and laughing and making silly faces until we got to my door.
I dropped his hand and fumbled in my purse for my keys. My condo felt stale and stuffy.
I haven’t been here in days
. I dropped my purse on my dining room table and trundled off to my bedroom.
I miss my home
.
“You know, we can just stay here.”
“No, it’s okay,” I shrugged, opening my closet and pawing through my rack of conservative work wear.
“No, really. I’m being selfish. You’re going to have to start telling me when I’m acting like an asshole.”
“Fine. But you’re not in asshole territory. I do miss my own bed.”
“Good,” he said, kicking off his blue sneakers. “I don’t care where I’m sleeping as long as I get SP One.”
“I’m not sure if there is milk for breakfast. I don’t have the same level of service at Chateaux Tanner that you’ve come to expect at your place.”
“Fuck that. It’s nine-thirty on Sunday night. I’ll run and go get milk. And strawberry yogurt. You got instant oatmeal?”
I nodded. “You’re going to the grocery store twice in two days?”
“Only for you, Marisa.”
He slipped his shoes back on and left. I flopped on my bed and stared up at the floral-papered ceiling.
Jumping in the deep end. High wire act with no net. Double or nothing.
***
Monday lunch with Trip was completely professional. We ate in his office with Carlos, Branco’s Human Resources Director. Trip peppered me with questions. Good questions. Some of them were hard questions. Like telling him where I thought Branco was weak or making policy suggestions that I knew weren’t cheap. He took it in stride. I was thankful I’d spent Sunday afternoon at the office getting ready for this meeting. He was right. This was the meeting I’d been expecting several months ago when I’d gone over to meet the new General Counsel.
Trip was Trip, but he wasn’t my boyfriend. No roving hands. No sly smiles. No belly laughs or gentle caresses. But by the time my sandwich was half-eaten, I had an even bigger crush on him.
“Let’s talk about this Dave Priddy lawsuit,” said Trip, steering the conversation away from best practices and toward the item I’d been most looking forward to discussing. “Where are we on this?”
“Well, trial is in a month. I’m about to start preparing jury instructions, opening and closing arguments, and witness examination outlines. I’ve got to prep our witnesses.”
“And the budget?”
“I sent you over an Excel spreadsheet mid-morning. The to-date spend is approximately eighty-five thousand dollars. Trial is going to be another thirty. Appeal another thirty to forty on top of that.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“It is.” I nodded.
Yes, it is a lot of money, which is why you’ve got to run a tight ship and not let managers ask employees to strip at bachelorette parties.
“How do you read the tea leaves?”
“We’re going to get a verdict against us.” Trip’s face turned into a frown. “The facts are not favorable and, while I’m good, I’m not a magician. The question is how much of an adverse verdict are we going to get. I’m guessing right around two hundred thousand.”
“So, you’re telling me that I’m looking at spending another thirty in order to get to pay two hundred?”
“Yes. The last settlement demand we got was for three hundred thousand. I think we can talk them down to just north of two.”
“We’re not settling this. He got one bad performance review and his raise was delayed by six months. It’s not like she touched him.”
“Trip, she asked him to strip for her. For money. Juries do not like people being propositioned at work by their bosses.” I held up my hands in defense. “Look, I know it wasn’t for sex. I’m being the devil’s advocate here. A jury won’t like it. They won’t hate it, but they aren’t going to like it. And you’re right. Things were made right, but his raise was delayed because of that one performance review.”
“And you think he’s telling the truth about being asked to be a stripper? You think a jury is going to believe him?”
“Trip, have you even seen Dave Priddy?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Does it matter?”
“In this case, very much so. Every woman in that courtroom will look at him and imagine licking him.”
“Every woman?”
“He was fucking Mr. July in the Munford Volunteer Fire Department calendar, Trip. Mr. July. The hottest month.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, it’s in the case evaluation I prepared for you.”
“I read that. I’m just curious about whether every woman in the courtroom will be thinking about licking the plaintiff. That was not in the memo you gave me.”
And, my boyfriend’s back.
I shifted in my seat. “Carlos, you know him. Accounting is on the same floor as HR, right? What’s your opinion?”
Deflect and distract. Deflect and distract
.
“Trip, I hate to say, it but I agree with Marisa on this one. He’s a good guy. Attractive, and his story is credible. To be honest, I’ve been worried about something like this since I got wind of the calendar. I had to pull down one of the calendars when I heard it was hung in the women’s bathroom on the seventh floor.”
“Fine. Go try this case. Win it, okay?” He nodded and stood from the table.
Okay, no pressure there.
“Carlos, thanks for joining me. Marisa, thanks for walking over. I think this has been very productive. Carlos, let’s touch base next week to talk about the costs of some of the training Marisa suggested. Marisa, do you have a moment to speak with me?”
“Of course.” Carlos and I shook hands and he took his leave. Trip stepped within inches of me. I could feel his heat and my body began to hum from his proximity.
“You never answered my question.”
I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow at him.
“About whether every woman in that courtroom will be thinking about licking the plaintiff.”
I blushed and whispered my confession. “There is only one body I want my tongue on.” He gingerly ushered me closer towards the table where I knew we couldn’t be seen from the doorway of his office. “No nooner,” I hissed.
Trip laughed. “Oh, no. I understand the rules. But you need to understand that you cannot talk about tongues on bodies without creating quite the hardship.” He placed my hand on the front of his trousers. My panties dampened in response to him.
“Do you want to run home?” I softly inquired, feeling badly for giving him a raging hard on in the middle of the workday and also feeling very turned on myself.
“I can’t. I’ve got a call in ten minutes. Make it up to me tonight?”
I nodded. “Your place or mine?”
“This week, yours.”
***
I walked into River City Coffee at nine o’clock on the nose Tuesday morning. Erica was perusing the handwritten menu that hung above the counter.
“Like you need a menu.”
“Changing my ways. No tea today. I’m thinking something large and chocolaty that I can’t properly pronounce.”
“By all means,” I swept an arm toward the barista. “Large skim decaf latte for me and whatever this lovely lady wants.”
“Something large and chocolaty that I can’t properly pronounce. Surprise me.”
“Truly, no herbal tea?”
“I’m not working today, so I don’t need to try to keep my normal Zen-like state.”
I chuckled.
Erica. Zen-like.
We chatted about the Sunday night dinner where the boys had spent all night talking about some war game they play on their iPhones. And by boys, we meant our significant others.
“And it looks like I have some competition. Miri parked herself in Trip’s lap all dinner.”
“Oh, I noticed. Did you notice that she was wearing lipgloss? And by lipgloss, that’s what she calls her cherry Chapstick. You’ve got to step up your game.”
“I know. It’s not like he’s bought me a house. She’s going down.” I smiled, wanting to dish, but also not wanting to share my happiness when Erica and Josh’s relationship was struggling.
“Come on. Don’t make me arm wrestle you.”
“You’d lose.”
“Whatever. Just tell me.”
“So, we’re having a trial run at living together this week.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“We’re staying at my place.”
“You guys are so weird. Love isn’t a series of deliberate moves like in a chess game.”
“I know. But I’m not ready to jump into something serious.”
“Oh, that ship has sailed,” she replied, waving me off. “Has he proposed yet?”
My eyes grew wide. “We’ve only know each other for a few months,” I stammered.
“Are you going to answer my question? Because I’m pretty sure he’s going to. He’s nuts about you and you, my sweet friend, are in so deep that even your amazing denial mechanism can’t cope with it.”
“My denial mechanism?”
“You are a wonder. You really should teach classes. So, have you accepted the fact that you’re irrevocably in love with him?”
I pursed my lips and nodded.
“Told him?”
“Yes.”
“He said the same to you?”
I nodded, thinking back to the very non-family friendly way those words had first escaped his mouth. “Yup.”
“So, Miri would love to be a flower girl.”
“Way too early to have this conversation,” I cautioned her, taking a sip of coffee.
“But since you haven’t denied it, I’m taking that as a yes, you’ve talked about it.” Erica clapped her hands and stomped her feet in a little victory dance.
“In not so many words. Chill out.”
“So, this summer? Miri really would look lovely as a flower girl.”
“Really, chill. We’re so in lust that I don’t think either of us are thinking straight.”
“Oh, that’s the best. I remember those days. Josh and I were having sex like all the time. All. The. Time. One time, we even —”
I shoved my fingers into my ears and loudly chanted “please stop, please stop, please stop” until Erica’s talking converted to tears of laughter.
“Fine, you want to know what the boys did at Whole Foods?”
“Our boys?”
I nodded. “Yup. Saturday we went to Whole Foods and Trip was getting a little handsy in the cheese department when Josh saw us and shouted ‘get a room.’ ”
“That’s my husband,” Erica beamed.
“Well, then they had this weird thing they did where they started referencing sex like twenty-year-old frat boys. Josh talked about how his jaw was sore, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, it probably is.”
“Erica! This is a family establishment.”
She shrugged. “Just being honest. We have a lot of making up to do.”
“Y’all working through it?”
“Let’s just say that when he’s in town, I’ve been putting him to work.”
I rolled my eyes at her, knowing good and well she was not in the mood for a heart to heart talk, and so we chatted happily until I looked at my watch and realized I needed to get back to the office. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got a client lunch and actually need to do some work.”
“A real client lunch or is this code for ‘I’m meeting my boyfriend for some afternoon delight’?”
I stood up from our table and picked up my empty cup. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Yesterday we had an honest-to-God business meeting. He didn’t exactly circulate an agenda for today, so I have no clue.”
“Boom chicka baw baw,” sang Erica, mimicking bad porn music. I shook my head and I walked back to my office on autopilot, quickly managing the thirty emails that had shown up during my mid-morning coffee break. I settled back into my desk and cranked away. Outlook pinged me when it was time to head to Branco.
Which Trip will I get at lunch today? Last night he was intense. This morning he was cuddly, but I left for the office just after sunrise, so who knows. Guess it’s time to find out.
I stopped off in the bathroom to check my appearance. I swiped on fresh lipstick, ran a brush through my hair, and turned in the full-length mirror to make sure nothing had gone wrong with my navy shift dress and brown faux-crocodile pumps.
Yup. Nothing tragic and nothing overtly sexy. Just a normal day at the office. When I’m having lunch with my boyfriend who adores me.
I smiled to myself in the mirror, noting how my eyes crinkled in the corners with happiness.
I told Jane I was headed over to Branco. As I walked out the lobby doors, I saw Trip’s car idling at the curb. He rolled down the passenger side window. “Offer you a ride?”