Lawrence chuckled into his wine.
Eleanor dropped her face into her hands.
“Oh my gosh. Daddy, can you please make her stop?”
“I have been trying for thirty years,” Lawrence said dryly.
Reid took a slow sip of wine, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
Liz leaned against the counter, entirely delighted.
“Well,” she said brightly, “now let’s talk about my daughter.”
“Son,” Lawrence said mildly to Reid, “before you answer any of her questions, you should know that Eleanor got every dangerous quality she has from her mother.”
“I heard that,” Liz said.
“I intended for you to.”
Reid smiled.
“I think,” he said carefully, “I suddenly understand Eleanor much better.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes at him.
“Don’t encourage them.”
“Too late,” Liz said.
She looked back at Reid.
“So. A District Attorney and a Defense Attorney.” Her smile sharpened. “That’s a very adversarial dynamic.”
“We try to keep the litigation out of the kitchen, ma’am.”
Lawrence raised a brow.
“Is that right?”
“Dad,” Eleanor warned.
Reid’s mouth curved.
“In fairness, your daughter wins most of our arguments,” Reid said. He glanced toward Eleanor, entirely too pleased with himself. “I’m mostly just here to negotiate the terms of my surrender.”
“Oh, he’s very good, Ellie. Charming, quick on his feet, and knows exactly when to concede the small point to win the larger one.” She looked back at Reid. “A dangerous man to have across the aisle, I’d imagine.”
“That,” Eleanor muttered, reaching for the wine bottle, “is exactly the problem.”
Reid met her eyes over the rim of his glass. The smugness was still there, but beneath it was a steady, unblinking heat that promised they weren't finished—not by a long shot. He was holding his own with her father and flirting with her mother, but he was looking at her as if she were the only verdict that mattered.
“Not a problem, Eleanor,” he murmured so only she could hear. “Just a very long opening statement.”
36
Charleston — Friday Morning
Charleston hadn’t changed much.
