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I glance up and lock eyes with Clifton as he makes his way toward me. There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn't reach his cold eyes.
I step out of the way of the men moving another desk into my - now shared - office as Clifton closes the distance between us, bringing a wave of fresh pine and rain scent with him. I don’t know what cologne he wears, but it’s the perfect escape I need in the moment.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” I say, waving my hand in an unmistakable gesture at the door. He glances at the nameplate, then back at me, his eyes asking if there’s a problem. As I force a smile to my lips, I notice how confident he seems, and the stoic set to his jaw.
The men leave our office, and he gestures for me to lead the way and follows me in. I turn to face him, well aware that the door is still open.
“Thank you, Clifton-” I say, but he lifts a finger to his lips and closes the door in a covert motion that confuses me.
Once the door clicks closed, he makes his way to his desk and leans on the edge, crossing his arms and studying me.
“Thank you for saving my job, I really appreciate it,” I say, hoping he hears the sincerity in my voice.
He stretches his head from side to side and lifts his shoulders, clearly trying to relieve some muscle tension. “Don't mention it, I didn't do it for you.” Despite the clip of his words, I still feel grateful.
“The way I see it, doing a good thing, even for selfish reasons, is still doing a good thing.”
His gaze meets mine. “So you're an ‘ends justify the means’ kind of woman.”
“To a degree.”
He nods but doesn't say anything else. Instead, he walks over and sits down at his desk. I do the same, opening my laptop and trying to focus on a case, no easy feat, given all the stress this day has piled on me.
This almost feels like a setup; I'm working on a complex divorce case involving a lot of assets and allegations. I don't generally handle divorce cases, but I welcomed the challenge right up until today.
As I shift through notes, information, and documents, the time slips away. Lunch hour rolls around and Clifton asks if I’m going to take a break.
I shake my head. “I'm trying to make some progress.” I don't feel like eating anyway. I'm too nervous and stressed over both the case and Anton’s puzzling behavior.
“I'll step out then.” Clifton leaves the room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him, and I feel grateful that he’s being thoughtful and diplomatic. Sharing an office with him could be awful, but he’s actually not too bad to be around.
He comes back in a few moments later and sits down. While I want to ask if he's decided to work through the lunch hour as well, I get back to focusing on an interesting detail I noticed buried in the records and forget all but the new angle I’ve uncovered for this case.
I'm jolted out of my thoughts when I hear a knock at the door. Clifton opens the door to a delivery guy holding two bags of food.
“I have an order for Clifton and Emma?” the delivery person says with a sheepish smile.
“Thank you.” Clifton takes the bags.
I guess having both our names on the door is going to confuse people. It’s not that big a deal, though. Not yet, at least.
Clifton closes the door behind the guy, walks over to my desk and sets one of the bags in front of me. I look at the brown paper bag, then up at him, surprised.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It's lunch I ordered for both of us. I hope you don't mind.” As he says the words, he opens his own bag and takes out a sandwich and a salad.
I recognize the logo for a place in town that makes the best meatball sub around. The rich, tangy scent as he unwraps the foil around his food leaves my mouth watering. How did he know I love their meatball subs?
“Thank you,” I say, peeking in the bag. I take out the hot, foil-wrapped sandwich and salad.
“I don't know what you like, so I hope that's okay.” Despite the gruff tone of his voice, I hear a splash of concern as if he’s worried he messed up.
I unwrap the meatball sub and smile over at him. “You hit it out of the park,” I say.
He winks at me and my heart flutters annoyingly. “I’m still not taking a break,” I say, sinking my teeth into the delicious tangy meat and sauce topped with provolone cheese. With a groan, I try to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head. This was exactly what I needed; I just didn’t know it.
He takes a bite of his and eyes me with a serious expression. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he says after swallowing, gesturing at the room.
