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“In a manner of speaking,” Nita replied coolly.
“In a manner of speaking?” he asked, glancing over. “What does that mean?”
“That it shouldn’t matter to you what I am,” she said.
“As a contractor, shouldn’t I need to trust the company I’m working with? As well as the staff that I have to work with?”
“Hey, if you want to get your lawyer to look over the contract, go ahead,” she answered, checking her watch. “I have other things I could do while you’re sorting out your trust issues.”
He regrouped the steering wheel and let out a long sigh.
“The contract looks fine,” he said with a sigh. His attitude pricked her pride.
“And you’ll just have to trust that my job as assistant to the in-house lawyer and my extensive Cavendish background will give you an incredible amount of insight into the business,” she said. She meant the words to sound tough, but they sounded prudish. Like she was trying too hard to prove something, which she realized was the truth.
“I don’t doubt that,” Ryder replied. “I just find it hard to believe that someone like you could be a lawyer.”
“Someone like me?” Nita said, bristling as she clenched the briefcase on her lap. “Someone like… what the fuck does that mean?”
“You know,” Ryder said with a smirk. “All dressed up like you're about to audition for a Grease musical. I bet you know more about where to buy fancy clothes than the law.”
“Take me back,” Nita growled, looking around and debating whether she should jump out of the cart. If it wasn’t so wet and she didn’t have on her thrifted Givenchy heels, she might have.
“Settle down, I didn’t mean—”
“Settle down is the worst thing you could say,” she shouted, glaring at him.
He looked surprised and then pained.
“Sorry. I haven’t had the best experience with lawyers,” he admitted, shifting in his seat and putting an arm along the backrest. “I’ve sure never worked with a lawyer that looked like you. And before you get upset, I mean that in a good way.”
She scowled but backed down on her plan of diving out of the cart.
“Not that you deserve any explanation, but I’ve passed every practice bar exam by over 95%. I know more about the law than any four-year law student. Certainly more than an asshole with a motorcycle.”
“Ouch. Okay, maybe I deserved that,” Ryder said. “So when you say ‘in a manner of speaking,’ are you saying you’re going to be a lawyer but you’re not going to law school?”
She gave him a contemptuous look.
“I’ll explain this with small words. You become a lawyer by passing the bar. If you work hard with the right mentor, study cases and assist other lawyers, evenyoumight pass the bar,” she said sweetly. “Do you know what a mentor is, or do I need to explain that as well?”
His face tightened and smirked at him.
“Do you know what a bitch is?” he asked, giving her a smirk back. But something sparkled in his eyes. Like he was enjoying the banter.
“On the intelligence level, I’d say bitch is higher than ignorant motorcycle club drop-out,” she suggested, pretending to look thoughtful.
She had a moment of regret. Calling a contractor ignorant was not the best foot to start on. It also made her cringe that she’d switched into bitch mode, proving his words right. She had to work with Ryder-not-Mitchell, and it would be better to stay prim, distant, and professional.
She waited for him to come back with a witty retort, but he chuckled.
“Oh, you’ll have to try harder than that to get under my skin, Sugar,” he murmured condescendingly. She could handle that.
But thinking of his name reminded her of something.
“Why did you use a fake name at the tattoo parlor?” she asked.
“I didn’t. Mitchell’s really my middle name,” he replied.
