Eleanor gathered her files with practiced precision.
Reid stepped beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder.
“You were aggressive today,” he murmured.
“You were sloppy,” she replied, not looking at him.
His mouth curved. “That motion was tight.”
“It should’ve been.”
He watched her for a second. “You’re back.”
She glanced up. “I never left.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You did.”
She stilled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means last night you let me in.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the file.
“Reid—”
“And this morning you’re acting like it never happened.”
“Because this is exactly why it can’t happen,” she said, voice low. “The podcast. Charleston. Whatever this is becoming… I’m not dragging you into it.”
He studied her for a long time.
“Too late.”
The air hummed between them.
Reid lowered his voice.
“Dinner. Friday. No strategy.”
She didn’t miss a beat.
“I don’t date opposing counsel.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Oh yes, you do.”
Her brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll pick you up at six forty-five.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
“You’re assuming I’ll be home.”
“You will.”
