The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series (10 page)

“Walker, I’m fine. I don’t need Adrian’s pajamas,” I said. “Trust me, I do this all the time. I sleep in my office at least three nights a week.”

“They can’t pay you enough.”

“They don’t. But it’s more than I’d make anywhere else,” I said. “I’m not complaining — I’m just trying to tell you, don’t worry about me. This is what I do. I’ll just sleep on the couch.

“Now go to bed. You’re being distracting.”

“Am I?” He sounded like that perked him up a bit. “Good. Go me. But
I
am going to bed,” he said. A wave of heat shot through me as I pictured him pulling his clothes off in his room. I ignored it. “Please be a good girl and go to sleep. I don’t care if you won’t wear Adrian’s clothes. I don’t care if you won’t accept a free toothbrush from me. Just get some rest. We have plenty to do tomorrow. Pace yourself, Nic.”

I rolled my eyes at him as he went upstairs. He was so bossy, and so sexy, and so nice that he was really freaking annoying me. Eventually I stood up, stretched, and went to the bathroom, where I saw how horrible I looked. I grabbed my makeup case and, in a sure sign that I was becoming completely deranged, refreshed my makeup. I also brushed my teeth with the toothbrush I always carried with me and carefully removed my contacts. And then I went to sleep on his couch, with my face carefully positioned so that I would sleep face up and not rub lip gloss and foundation on his leather couch.

No, I was not interested in Walker. I kept telling myself that. I fell asleep thinking
no no no no no no no no no no
but I’m pretty sure I had dreams about him, dreams in which I finally got to touch him and we were irretrievably tangled together.

Luckily, you can’t get disbarred for dreams.

“
W
ell
, hello there,” a chirpy voice said, jolting me awake. I sat up, startled, and realized I’d been on my stomach, my face full of makeup smushed against Walker’s leather couch, and that I was drooling.

“Hi?” I said, snapping to attention as quickly as I could and wiping my face. A young woman sat across from me, her combat boots on the coffee table, her ankles crossed confidently. She had red hair that was not at all natural, but was pretty, a diamond stud in her nose, and her brother’s enormous blue eyes.

“You must be the lawyer,” Adrian said. “I’m not used to my brother’s houseguests staying on the couch. You’re a first.”

“It’s sort of a first-time-for-everything situation,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I’m Nicole Reynolds.” I leaned over and shook her hand.

“Adrian. You look pretty good for waking up in yesterday’s clothes,” she said. “Want some coffee?” I nodded gratefully and followed her to the kitchen.

“I love your paintings,” I said, motioning to a piece that was close to me. It was abstract, of jagged skyscrapers against a night sky. Or at least I thought it was.

“Are you sucking up to me?” she asked.

“No. I was being polite. And actually, I do like it. I’m not artistic, so I’m not sure I ‘get’ it, but I like it.” She handed me my coffee and I took a much needed sip.

“By the way — why would I suck up to you?” I asked, my voice filled with curiosity.

“Everybody’s either in love with or wants something from my brother. So I get sucked up to a lot,” she said.

“How’s that going for ya?” I asked, admiring her straight-forwardness.

“Pretty good, actually,” she said. “He was dating an underwear model a few months ago. I scored lots of free bras.”

“Always a bonus,” I said, willing my face to remain its natural pale tone, instead of turning fire-engine red at the thought of Walker dating an underwear model. “Seems like he goes through them pretty quickly,” I blurted. I made myself bring my coffee cup to my lips and leave it there, so that I didn’t say anything else stupid.

“Thank God,” Adrian said. “What a bunch of bitches.”

“Really?” I asked. I was fascinated and hopeful and desperate to hide it.

“Ugh. His girlfriends are the worst. They’re so pretty, but none of them eat. I think it makes them crazy.” She made another cup of coffee and put some enormous scones into the toaster to heat up.

“Are those scones from Ricky’s?" I interrupted her, suddenly ecstatic. That was my favorite bakery in Cambridge.

“Yup,” she said.

“Awesome.” Ricky’s scones were my favorite. They could make everything better. Except underwear
models dating Walker. Nothing was going to help me with that.

“So…not to be a total star-stalker…what about Minky Lucca?” I asked, in a gossipy tone.

“Double ugh,” Adrian said, and wrinkled her nose. “Minky Lucca is a douche. The worst. She looks so cute — she’s so small and peppy — but after a while I figured out that she wasn’t peppy, she was just speedy from diet pills. If she had two drinks, she turned into Satan. She’d talk about what sort of plastic surgery you should get, everything she’s had done to herself, and how the only way to stay ahead in Hollywood is to stop eating…She’s a total competitive eater. So if we went out to dinner, she would, like, watch you. And make sure she ate less.”

“Weird,” I said.

“Try going to dinner with her. It’s worse than fucking weird.”

“Why does he date women like that?” I asked.

“Why, are you interested?” Adrian asked, sounding bored all of a sudden.

I shook my head at her. “He’s my client. We could
never
. I just find him interesting. I’m not interested, but I find him interesting, if that makes any sense.”

“Everyone thinks he’s interesting,” Adrian said, making more coffee.

“Who? Little old me?” Walker asked, walking in, wearing low-slung sweatpants and a tank top.

I literally felt my mouth fill with water when I saw him in that tank top. I was salivating. Salivating over my super-hot client. Who recently broke up with an underwear model.

Just fucking shoot me.

Adrian shot me an appraising look. “He’s
very
interesting in a tank top,” she said, and raised her eyebrows at me.

Even though I liked her, I gave her a filthy look. “Is my scone ready yet?”

She served it to me and then studied me as I ate. Walker shuffled around, getting coffee and an enormous scone. His hair was spiky and wild and I tried not to stare.

“I hope you’re a brilliant lawyer,” she said, after a minute. “And I'm a Feminist, so I’m not doubting you because you’re young and female, but you are young. Like, really young.”

“I’m second chair. There’s an old white guy who’s first chair, so don’t worry,” I said. “But as an added bonus, I am brilliant. Even still, I have a stupid question: do Feminists call people
douches
? Like, is this a thing now?”

Walker almost spit out his coffee.

“Because when I took
Women’s Studies
in college,” I said, “we were told we weren’t supposed to use gender-specific derogatory terms.”

Adrian looked at me with interest. “You mean, it’s okay to call someone a fuckwad, because that’s general-neutral, but not a douche, because that’s a female term?” Adrian asked. “Yeah, I agree. But Minky Lucca really
is
a douche.” Walker coughed again. “Sorry, bro, but it’s totally true.” She turned back to me. “Sometimes, if the shoe fits…”

“Got it. I like that — you’re adaptive. Good for you,” I said. “You think for yourself.”

A huge smile broke out over Adrian’s face. “Dude,” she said, and turned to Walker, who was watching her with sleepy wariness. “This is the type of woman you should date.” She pointed to me. “Smart, funny, engaged. She’s eating a carbohydrate. She took
Women’s Studies
in college and actually learned something.
And
she’s not a psycho. Bonus.”

“She’s my lawyer, Adrian. You can’t date your lawyer.” He smiled at me.

“So fire her!” Adrian said.

I looked at her in horror. She smiled at me sheepishly. “Or…go find someone exactly like her. This is the template,” she said, pointing to me again. “Go find one.”

“As soon as I’m done defending my honor and clearing my name, I’ll get on it,” he said.

“Thank you,” Adrian said, dramatically. She checked her watch. “I gotta go.”

“You just got here,” Walker said.

“I have a class,” she said, grabbing a lunchbox and putting a couple of scones into it. “I just needed some supplies. And I wanted to check in.

“Nice to meet you, Nicole,” she said, and shook my hand. She pointed at me again and looked at Walker. “Template,” she admonished him.

“Goodbye, Adrian,” Walker called, as she slammed out the door.

“She’s awesome,” I said, smiling at him.

“She’s something, all right,” he said. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought home that she’s liked.”

“And you can’t even date me,” I said, still smiling.

“And I can’t even date you,” Walker said, but he didn’t smile back. It made my heart hurt.

“Walker,” I said, “about last night…”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “You saw something that didn’t make sense to you. You asked me about it directly. I appreciate you being forthcoming.”

“I feel like I hurt your feelings,” I said, going over and standing next to him, almost touching him. He was leaning against the countertop and I tucked myself next to him. “And I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” Walker said. “I felt like you were questioning me, and that was the right thing for you to do. That was fine. And the fact that you spoke up about it was admirable. But then,” he said, “I felt like you doubted me. Which would be a natural consequence of having questions about the Miami set-up.

“You should have doubted me, until you understood the situation.”

He paused for a beat and I just looked at him, questioningly. “But…?” I asked, my voice trailing off.

“But,” he said, and he had an uncomfortable look on his face. “Your doubt bothered me.”

I felt horrible that I made him feel badly, on top of everything else he was going through. “I hurt your feelings,” I said, sympathetically.

“You hurt my feelings,” he said.

“I said I was sorry,” I said, pleadingly. “I didn’t doubt you as soon as you explained it to me.”

“That’s not what’s bothering me.”

I just stood there, confused and waiting. Walker was studying his coffee or his feet, I couldn’t tell which.

“So…” I said, finally, “What
is
bothering you?”

He looked up at me with those big blue eyes. “I don’t usually have feelings to hurt, Nicole. That’s what’s bothering me. My feelings never factor into business. And my sister likes you. That’s bothering me, too.”

I gave him a long look. “Sorry,” I whispered, feeling myself flush.

“Me, too,” he said.

Walker ran his hand through his unruly hair and I had the opportunity to watch his bicep close up as he did it; it was huge and I just watched it, longingly, thinking of other huge things on his person that I might also long for, if I was given the chance. His hair stood up in messy spikes, which for some reason I found sexy as hell. Everything about him was sexy as hell, and here he was being so nice to me, and it was so fucking annoying, all of it.

“So, what about your boyfriend?” he asked suddenly, apropos of nothing. At least I told myself it was apropos of nothing. “You don’t seem to talk about him much. Or call him.” His chin jutted out a little and I swear to God, Broden Walker seemed jealous. Of little old me and Mike the Spike.

“I haven’t called my boyfriend because we don’t live together, and I usually sleep at work a couple of nights a week. He’s used to it.”

“Is he self-sufficient?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I guess so. It’s more like he’s pretty low-maintenance — or maybe he just had low expectations. He works a lot, too. He’s used to my schedule.”

“And he’s fine with how ambitious you are?”

“I have no idea if he’s fine with it or not,” I said and laughed. “I haven’t asked.”

“How long have you been with him?”

“Is this a deposition?” I asked, wanting to be done with discussing my relationship with Mike.

“I’ll let you ask me questions afterwards, if you’re compliant.”

“Promise?” I asked. I almost squealed in delight.

“Promise. We need to get to know each other better if we’re going to get through this, watching each other’s backs.”

“I’m the only one who needs to watch your back,” I said.

“I’ll just watch yours for fun, then,” he said, and smiled a wicked grin. “Back to your relationship. What’s his name?”

“Mike.” I looked down at my coffee. Honestly, twenty questions with Walker was fun, but questions about Mike were not.

“How long have you been together?”

I held up three fingers.

“Three months?” he asked. I shook my head,
no.
“Three
years
? That’s pretty serious. You engaged?”

“You know I’m not,” I said, exasperated.

“Are you upset about that?” he asked. I shook my head,
no
. “You don’t love him?” I shook my head again.
No
.

“Are you going to break up with the poor bastard?”

“As soon as I’m done defending your honor and clearing your name, I’m on it,” I said.

We looked at each other for a beat. “My turn,” I said, and he looked appropriately apprehensive. “Were you ever engaged?”

“Nope,” he said.

“Close?” I asked.

“Nah.”

“How many girlfriends do you usually have a year?”

“I don’t think that information is helpful,” he said.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Because I might not want to watch your back because you’re a serial womanizer?”

“I guess Adrian filled you in,” he said.

“So answer the question.”

He shrugged. “I don’t want to. It’s not important."

“But the fact that I’ve been dating my boyfriend for three years and aren’t engaged is?”

He shrugged and looked at me. “I just wanted to know more about you. There’s a lot of information available about me — just Google me. To be honest, I’m embarrassed by how many women I’ve been photographed with over the past couple of years. It seems like I have a problem.”

“Adrian thinks you do.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “She calls it my Shiny Object Problem.”

I shook my head at him. “Someone so brilliant,” I mused, “and you have a Shiny Object Problem.”

He looked off into the hallway, lost in his own thoughts for a minute. “Being brilliant doesn’t mean you’re going to have it easy in every department,” he said, after a while. “You know what I mean, Nic?”

“Yes, Walker,” I said, and looked at him longingly. “Yes I do.”