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I turn to see Eric standing in the corner, blending in with the rest of the patrons. In a black button-down shirt rolled to the elbows and jeans, he holds his jacket, and I want to climb him like a tree, he looks so hot.

“Hi,” I say, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Eric, party of two,” the hostess calls out.

“Just in time,” Eric says with a smile on those perfect lips, those bright white teeth on display. He grabs my hand and we follow her to the table.

After setting down menus and water, she leaves, and Eric looks at me. “How have you been?”

I bite back a smile. We text almost every day, but don’t physically see each other that often. “I’m good. Just glad it’s Friday. It’s been hell week at work.”

“Oh, really? A lot of criminals?” he asks with a smirk, but there’s stress behind his gaze.

“Just a lot of cases, and I doubt you want to listen to all that boring stuff. What about you?” I change the subject because I can tell anything criminal-related makes him uncomfortable, and being a paralegal, that’s all I see all day, for the most part. I should go find myself a job with some ambulance-chasing car accident lawyer instead of a team of defense attorneys—a few I cannot stand because they’re so fucking sleazy.

“Just learning the job. You’d think after two weeks, I’d get the hang of it better.” He lifts his water glass and stares at me.

“So, it’s not like just riding a bike?” I ask with a lippy smile.

He shakes his head. “No. First, my state physical therapy license was expired, and I had to apply to get that back. They denied my doctoral license because of the... incident, which I figured would happen, so I applied for physical therapy assistant, and that got approved. I took the state test, and I aced it. I’d ordered books to study while I was down, and I knew it all like the back of my hand—not that it was hard. Same stuff, just at a lesser capacity. In practice, though, much different. Technology is different. New machines and medicines and things like that.”

“Totally understandable.”

The server comes up and we place our orders, though I barely looked at the menu. I only like shellfish, so I told her I’d just like whatever the popular shrimp dish is. We also place drink orders.

Eric reaches forward and grabs my hands. “I’m really glad I met you, Christa. I’m sorry if I’m sort of... closed off sometimes. Adjusting hasn’t been easy, but one thing I’ve learned is to not be so stubborn to admit it. I’m in ‘mandatory’ therapy for drugs and alcohol, but the therapist knows I don’t have a substance abuse problem, so we mostly talk about deeper issues. And she’d be proud to hear me admit this to another person.” He smirks again, and my stomach flutters. God, he’s so beautiful.

“I’m glad you’re able to talk to someone about all you went through, Eric. I can’t imagine...”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he says abruptly, but not letting go of my hand.

“Of course, anything you want. Do you have any hobbies when you’re not working and going to... therapy?”

The server brings us drinks, and I immediately feel guilty for ordering a martini after what he said about his court-ordered drug and alcohol therapy.

“Hey, I changed my mind,” I tell her. “Can I just get a—”

“No.” Eric pats my hand. “Please enjoy your drink. I’m not at all tempted, I promise.”

I chew my lip and lift my brows. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” He looks at the server. “And when that one’s done, bring another.”

She looks at me. “Are you okay with that, miss?”

“Yes”—I glance at her nametag—“Carrie. Thank you.”

She nods and walks off.

“We aren’t doing this,” Eric says immediately, lifting his raspberry iced tea. “I mean it. If I want a drink, I’ll have one. I’m not supposed to, but they don’t test me for it either. I may have a beer now and again while watching sports, but I will not be drinking like I was. That doesn’t mean you have to abstain. In fact, you’re probably hella cute when you’re tipsy.”

I swallow down the vodka and lift the olives on the stick out of the glass. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Andrews?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely.”

“You’re crazy,” I say with a giggle after I pop one of the salty, delicious olives into my mouth.

He lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I’ve been called worse.”

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