Page 21 of Take What Hurts

Elliott chuckled, rubbing a sweaty palm against her hot cheek. “Categorically not true, according to most doctors, but I happen to agree.”

Elliott jumped a foot in the air at the sharp bang behind her, and she turned to find Freya unceremoniously pushing Elliott’s mug across the counter, a tight smile thinning her lips. Elliott tried to catch Freya’s eye, concerned by the tightness Elliott hadn’t seen in her face before. Freya shifted her eyes away and back toward the coffee machine. Elliott hesitated, then thanked her anyway as she picked up her mug. She shuffled from foot to foot as Freya approached the register, leaned on the counter, and, eyes narrowed, addressed Mackenzie. “Can I help you?”

If anyone had asked Elliott whether Freya was capable of speaking in a tone laced with anything other than warmth and sweetness, she would have told them it was impossible. But here they were, and Elliott shivered with the change. Elliott watched Mackenzie’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, and she seemed to debate something, eyes shifting to the cake case below the counter. “Just a blueberry muffin, please.”

Elliott frowned—what happened to the “there’s no such thing as too much coffee” sentiment from a moment ago? After Freya had shoved the paper bag holding the muffin at Mackenzie and stalked away into the back of the café, Mackenzie turned to Elliott. Mackenzie’s fingers fiddled with the scrunched paper at the top of the bag, eyes scrutinizing Elliott’s face as she seemed to deliberate something. Anticipation gnawed at Elliott’s insides as she watched Mackenzie’s mouth work around words that didn’t make their way out. Just as Elliott was about to put Mackenzie out of her misery and say goodbye, Mackenzie let out a low chuckle, presumably at herself. Bringing her eyes to Elliott’s, she finally spoke. “Want to sit with me while I eat this?”

Elliott’s little heart cheered loudly in her chest, and the tingle in her body evolved into a shuddering vibration. She was just being nice, but Elliott was grateful for it, because it didn’t hurt to have more senior colleagues—mentors—in this profession. She wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to develop connections.

And it was comforting, the way Mackenzie had hesitated to ask Elliott to sit with her. Like she wanted to show Elliott her “human” card, with the way she’d appeared unsure of herself for a breath. It was akin to the way she’d hesitated when they’d first met and when they’d run into each other in Whole Foods. It was something that warred with the decisive and confident woman who made Elliott sweat under the collar in a work environment, but it didn’t work to make her any less attractive. On the contrary, the way it softened all Mackenzie’s refined edges only tugged harder at that spot low in Elliott’s abdomen.

Corralling the elation before it had the opportunity to slip out, she nodded stiffly and followed Mackenzie toward a table for two, as far from the counter as she could get.

Once they were seated, Elliott took a sip of her latte and recoiled hard against the timber chairback. The smooth custom blend of balanced hazelnut and cocoa combined with milk steamed not a degree beyond absolutely spot on that was characteristic of this coffee shop—literally the reason why she walked the two blocks every day rather than going to the coffee cart in the lobby of the Columbia Center, where her firm’s offices were—was nowhere to be found. Instead a bitter, burned flavor, more akin to McDonald’s than the boutique café, assaulted her taste buds. She pulled the mug away from her mouth sharply, staring at the too-hot liquid sitting innocuously in the cup like it would just tell Elliott why it tasted so bad.

She looked up at the sound of Mackenzie snickering into her muffin. “I think she likes you.”

Elliott’s eyebrows pulled together, and she gently placed her mug on the table. “Who does?”

Mackenzie rolled her eyes, tilting her head at where Freya had reappeared behind the counter and was taking another customer’s order. “Her.”

“Freya?”

Mackenzie laughed, eyeballing Elliott as she picked at the top of her muffin. “Yes, Elliott. Freya. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.” Elliott’s mouth dropped open, and she stared blankly at Mackenzie. After a loaded look, Mackenzie dropped her eyes back to her muffin, a tiny line appearing at the edge of her mouth with the purse of her lips. “I thought she might spit in my coffee if I ordered one. A muffin was safer.” She’d gone for sarcasm, but Elliott caught the tiny flash of hurt that darkened her eyes.

Elliott ran her thumbnail over the ceramic coating on her mug. “I’m sorry⁠—”

Mackenzie laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Why are you apologizing?”

Elliott laughed weakly. “Habit?”

Mackenzie huffed out a laugh.

“I—why would she want to spit in your coffee—” Elliott cut herself off as their interaction replayed itself in her mind. Specifically, Elliott’s half of their interaction, including the lingering pressure between her thighs that now made her need to squeeze her legs together under the table.

Mackenzie stared at her, head tilted and fingers picking at her muffin absently. Like she was waiting for Elliott to connect the dots. Elliott’s eyes dropped to her coffee, and the burned flavor churned in her gut. Had Elliott been too obvious? Had she been flirting? Had Mackenzie noticed? Fuck… Oh god. Elliott’s neck and chest heated to match her cheeks. She brought her mug to her lips and took a sip of the scalding liquid in the hope of disguising the physical reaction to the thoughts whirling in her mind.

Mackenzie dropped her eyes back to her muffin and finally tore a piece off and placed it delicately into her mouth, tongue then darting out to collect the sticky crumbs off her fingertips. Elliott’s eyes tracked the motion, and the heat in her abdomen renewed. How did Mackenzie make muffin-crumb collection so fucking sensual? Elliott shook herself as Mackenzie opened her mouth to speak. “So, how is work going for you?”

Elliott frowned with the abruptness of the change in topic and resigned herself to the fact that Mackenzie had noticed Elliott’s behavior and was keen to get off the subject. “Um—” She shook her head and straightened herself in her chair, taking another sip of the coffee that tasted worse the more it cooled. “It’s… well, it’s work. I guess.” She took a steadying breath. “You know how it is. Walk into a meeting with a litigator just as he’s finishing snorting a line off his desk.” She let out a weak laugh, attempting to bury the discomfort that interaction had ignited in the moment and that had lingered in the days since. Another breath as the words rushed, unbidden, out of her. “I apologize if I was too, um… if I was unprofessional with you the other week.” She lifted her eyes to Mackenzie, whose eyes glimmered with amusement. They were so gorgeous it made her ache, and she had to look away. “On the phone, I mean.”

Mackenzie scrutinized Elliott for a moment. “That’s been eating away at you, hasn’t it?”

Elliott shrugged but stayed silent, unwilling to entirely lose her footing in this conversation. For a beat Mackenzie surveyed Elliott, like Mattias would when he wanted to engage in a teaching moment, and Elliott squirmed under the scrutiny. Because if Elliott and Mackenzie worked at the same firm, she would have been Elliott’s mentor. And heat radiated off Elliott at the mere thought.

“Elliott,” Mackenzie said.

The softness in her voice had Elliott’s stomach swooping pleasantly, and she lifted her eyes to Mackenzie’s. She wore a small soft smile that clawed at the attraction Elliott was trying to keep buried deep in her chest, tugging at it, easing it out again bit by bit.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. You were firm but professional.” She paused and they locked eyes across the table, and Elliott could have sworn the air between them sparked. “I was impressed.”

Elliott tried not to sag in the chair or preen too much under the praise, but did allow her shoulders to descend from where they’d been living up around her ears since their phone call. “Okay. Great. Just, you know. Professional responsibility and stuff,” she finished, and to her own ears it sounded like a cop-out.

Mackenzie smiled. “Now, on the other thing. It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Elliott’s head spun. Another abrupt change in topic. Elliott wondered whether she’d ever get used to the jarring way Mackenzie conversed. “The coke thing?”

Mackenzie nodded, leaning forward on the small table and drastically reducing the distance between them. More muffin went into her mouth, and Elliott pushed her coffee aside, finally abandoning it. When Mackenzie spoke, Elliott clocked what she guessed was a deep, repressed resentment that rarely had the opportunity to air itself out in the cold light of day. “Yeah. Why is it that the men in this profession think it’s okay to make female lawyers feel uncomfortable when they’re just trying to do their jobs? Like—” She cut herself off with a huff, fingertip tapping on the table. “Who does that? Does a line off their fucking desk when they know they’re due for a meeting with another lawyer?” She threw her hands in the air and flopped back. “I’d love to know if he would have done it if his meeting had been with another man.”