Bad Judgment (24 page)

I read his familiar handwriting, interpreting the semi-illegible scrawl that I’ve missed seeing.

He crossed out the interest rate and payment terms and replaced them with something
much
more favorable to me.

I glance up. “Are you sure? This isn’t a very good investment for you, sir.”

“Can you live with the terms?”

When I nod, he hands me the pen. “Then your signature is all that’s missing.”

I flip to the signature page, and sure enough, his is already there.

I lift my gaze to his once more, the gold pen weighing heavily in my hand. “Are you sure?”

“The best investment I can make is in the minds of the next generation. You’re a smart girl, Justine, and more than that, you’re genuine, honest, and kind. You could’ve just taken the tuition and not paid it back, and I wouldn’t have been disappointed. But this shows me even more about your character, and I hope my son is smart enough to keep you happy and never let you go.”

His words of approval warm me from the inside out. I scrawl my signature on the line.

He settles himself back in the chair and says, “Now, let’s talk about getting you a job that will pay you enough so you can meet your obligations. Where are you working now?”

“The business school library.”

“How would you feel about taking a clerk position at a firm? You’d be doing research, reading cases, and writing memos, similar to what you did here, but they’ll pay you at least double what you’re getting paid by the university. The work will be interesting.”

“Which firm?”

“Grant Bentham Beckett.”

Where Ryker’s mom works.

“Oh, wow. I never considered that as an option. Is your wife back home from working on her project?” I can’t imagine a more awkward way to meet Ryker’s mom than in her place of work with no warning.

“No, she won’t be back for a couple more weeks. You’d be working for a small group of appellate litigation attorneys who desperately need the help right now. I had actually planned to ask you if you were interested in the job after your externship, but I knew you were going to Legal Aid for the summer. Is that still your plan after graduation?”

“Yes, if I can find an opening somewhere.”

“Then working at the firm for the rest of the year will help you pay off a good bit of this loan before graduation. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you’re not going to make much at Legal Aid.”

“I know, but it’s not about the money for me.” And it wasn’t. It never has been.

Justice Grant’s smile is sincere, but I can tell he thinks I’m partially an idiot for not looking for a higher-paying job.

“It’s admirable, for sure. They need good lawyers just like everyone else. So, how do you feel about handing in your notice to the library and starting at the firm next Monday?”

Today’s Monday, so that’s only a week’s notice. I feel bad about it, but the offer he’s made me is not only interesting, but will help me pay off a chunk of the loan before I graduate.

“How much will they pay?” I ask, needing to hear an actual number before I accept.

When he gives it to me, I school my expression not to show my shock. It’s not just twice what I make at the library—it’s over three times as much. I quickly calculate in my head, realizing I’ll be able to get a good head start on knocking out this debt before I even graduate. And if Justice Grant says the work would be interesting, I believe him.

“Okay, I’m interested.”

“Great. I’ll make a call and have HR and the chair of the practice group e-mail you the details.”

“I don’t need to interview?” I’m shocked that it could possibly be this easy.

Grant shakes his head. “They’ll accept my recommendation in place of an interview.”

It always comes down to who you know . . . But in this instance, I’m not complaining.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll watch for the e-mail.”

We both stand and I shoulder my bag. He’s walking me to the door in the outer chambers when he adds, “I’d like to keep this new arrangement between us still, but if you want to tell Ryker about the job, feel free.”

I keep my voice calm and steady, but inside I’m cringing.
Should I argue that we need to tell him everything?
I glance up at Justice Grant, and I can’t find the words to question him.

“Okay . . . if you think that’s best.”

“I do. For now, anyway. Especially given the confidentiality clause you kept in your agreement.”

As soon as I’m out of the office, I’m kicking myself.
Why did I include the confidentiality clause?
Did some part of me want to put off telling Ryker? Clearly, his dad doesn’t want him to know yet.

The guilt I’d just hoped to banish creeps back in.

It’s not forever, Justine. He just said—for now
.
Everything’s going to be fine.

I keep telling myself that for the next half hour as the bus takes me home.

Ryker

I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. I’ve had hookups and casual sex, but not girlfriends. So how the hell do I break it to Justine that that’s exactly what she is? She’s mine, I’m hers, and neither of us is touching anyone else.

Not that I’m worried about her touching someone else, but I feel the need to make it extremely clear when I walk out of the parking garage and see her standing next to a pickup as some guy lifts her bike out of the bed.

“Thanks! I appreciate the ride.”

Justine, being the stubborn woman she is, still won’t let me give her rides to and from school. So why the hell is she taking rides from strangers?

The guy leans down and gives her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before watching her ass as she pushes her bike toward the law school. Finally, he catches sight of me and looks away before jogging around the truck and climbing back inside.

I wait next to the bike rack, but Justine doesn’t notice me as she settles her bike in and locks it up.

“Hey,” I say to get her attention.

She jerks her head up and smiles when she sees me. “Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

“I noticed. Who was the guy?”

Confusion mutes her smile. “What guy?”

“The one in the truck you just got out of. If you needed a ride to class, I would’ve grabbed you.”

She looks toward the road but the guy is already gone. I’m not sure how she missed the rumble of his exhaust as he revved the engine and pulled away.

“Elliot is a guy who lived in my dorm in undergrad. He saw me about a mile away and stopped to offer me a ride.”

“A guy who lived in your dorm in undergrad.” My tone takes on a dangerous quality. “Do you even know him? Trust him?”

Her brow furrows. “It was a mile. He offered a ride, I was cold, and I took it. Not a big deal, Ryker.”

She’s oblivious to the fact that if she’d offered to skip class and go home with the guy, there’s no doubt he would have taken her up on it.

“Call me next time. It’ll be snowing before you know it, so you’re going to have to stop riding sooner rather than later. Might as well get into a new routine. And for the record,” I lean in and brush my lips across her earlobe, “my lips are the only ones I want to see on you.”

Justine jerks back. “Are you
jealous
?” The disbelief in her voice surprises me more than her words.

“Are you
surprised
?”

She blinks. “Yeah, I guess I am. And you know what? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

I glance at my watch. We only have fifteen minutes before class starts, which isn’t long enough to make my point the way I need to. But I will. After class.

Justine

Ryker’s reaction to Elliot giving me a ride is still swirling through my mind as he wraps my hand around a large cup of tea from the café and pulls me into the elevator. I see the looks we’re getting. His actions are making it abundantly clear that we’re . . .
what are we exactly?

The crowded elevator is taking us to the third floor, and Turner’s class is not the place to pose that question.

Do I need an answer? Do I want an answer?

What if we’re just friends with benefits? Am I okay with that?

The doors open on the second floor and,
of course
, Kristy Horner is standing there.

“Room for one more?”

No one in the elevator can miss the way she devours Ryker with her gaze.

Being that Kristy’s blond, built, and hot, it doesn’t surprise me when two of the guys step backward and make room. I squish toward the back corner, attempting not to whack the tiny girl behind me with my backpack.

Ryker takes a step back too, but Kristy presses her chest up against his anyway.

“Sorry, guys. Didn’t mean to make it a crush.”

Liar.

I can see her profile over Ryker’s shoulder, but she’s not paying any attention to me. The standard awkward elevator silence fills the car as it goes up one more floor before jerking to a halt.

Kristy takes this opportunity to fall forward against Ryker, both hands pressing against his pecs. The guy to her left reaches out to steady her, but she moves closer to Ryker instead.

I can’t make out her whispered words, but it sounds like,
You always did know how to keep me steady
.

The doors slide open, and Kristy waits an extra beat before lifting her hands off Ryker’s chest. She gives him a wink before strutting out, confident that every eye is on her.

I really hate that girl
.

A niggle of . . .
something
sneaks into me along with the echo of Ryker’s words—
“My lips are the only ones I want to see on you.”

Apparently, my hands are the only ones I want to see on him. But I say nothing and follow the crowd toward the classroom. Ryker reaches back and grabs my fingers, lacing his through mine.

He releases me when I stop by a single empty seat, and I drop my backpack on the counter without bothering to cushion the
thunk
. His eyebrows knit together, but all he says is, “I’ll see you after class,” before moving down the row to the next empty chair.

The lecture drones on, but I force myself to pay attention and take verbatim notes like I normally would. It’s a good way to block out the stupid rush of jealousy I feel every time Kristy blatantly stares at Ryker. Is she feeling desperate now that he has clearly turned his attention elsewhere?

I shove the thoughts down. I need to concentrate. No distractions. That was the deal. But I didn’t take into account my own feelings when I made that decree.

Yeah, he and I need to have a little chat after class. Maybe I’ll feel better if I know where we stand.

Ryker is by my side as I finish packing up my laptop and shoving my casebook in my backpack. “Library?”

“Sure.”

I lead the way out of the room and across to the third-floor entrance where the private study rooms are. Ryker looks in the windows until he finds one that’s unoccupied, and flips the sign before letting me in.

“We need to talk.” The words come out in a serious tone from Ryker’s lips. But what surprises me most is that he beat me to it.

“I think you’re right.” I take a seat on one side of the table, in view of the window, and he takes a seat on the other side.

I open my mouth to say something, but Ryker jumps in first. “This thing between us? It’s exclusive. No one puts his hands or mouth on you but me. Got it?”