Page 8 of Made to Order
I don’t even see it coming, just feel the sharp sting of her slap across my left cheek.
My hand instinctively moves up to cover my tingling flesh. “What the hell was that for?”
Red colors her cheeks, and her fists clench and unclench at her sides. “You’re a real asshole, Wade. I can’t believe you thought I would pay you to have sex with me.”
Wait, what?
I’m so stunned by her accusation that, by the time I gather my thoughts enough to reply, she’s already inside and slams the door in my face. I stare at the dark brown wood of the door for several moments, trying to get my head around what she said.
What the hell just happened?
How could she not understand that tonight was genuine, and that I actually like her—a lot. This was never about the payment—well, at least not once I knew she was my date for the night.
I guess it doesn’t matter. All she sees me as is a fucking whore.
5
WADE
SHE WON’T EVEN LOOK AT me. Twenty minutes of sitting across from each other in the courtroom, waiting for our cases to be called, and not once has she bothered to even glance over here.
As far as she’s concerned, I don’t exist.
I get paid to sleep with some of the most beautiful and classiest women in Chicago, but the only one I want won’t even look at me. Because I’m a whore.
This is the first time in almost two years I really feel slimy about what I’ve been doing.
And ain’t that a bitch.
“Wheaton vs. First State Insurance Company, case number 17L205.”
My case being called finally breaks what was probably a little bit of creepy staring at Josette. The scheduling conference should only last five minutes.
But I can’t manage to avoid checking Josette out from the corner of my eye while I’m at counsel’s table.
I catch her watching me at least once. That’s a good sign, right? It offers me a little hope that she might hear me out. All I’m hoping for is for her to give me a chance to explain myself and what happened Saturday night. I don’t think that’s asking for much, but given the cold shoulder she’s giving me today, I may have my work cut out for me.
When I finish my case and turn my eyes to meet hers, she blushes then looks down at a paper on her lap and scribbles furiously.
Probably something about what a big douche I am—definitely not “I love Wade Saxon” with little hearts doodled around it.
Instead of leaving, like I should, to get back to the office and do some actual work, I pop a squat on the bench outside the courtroom and wait. I’m gonna make Josette talk to me no matter how much she may be trying to avoid it.
I can’t go through another night like the last two. I’ve barely slept—thankfully, not because I had a date last night, though. Jason wasn’t happy when I cancelled my Sunday “social engagement.” But after Saturday night, there’s no way I could do it. My mind replays what happened on Josette’s front steps on a constant loop. It’s pretty much all I’ve been able to think about, so putting on a game face to go out with another woman, and potentially have to fuck her, just wasn’t happening.
How could it have gone so horribly wrong with Josette?
I thought I’d made it pretty clear throughout the evening how much I liked her, how attracted to her I was.
Maybe my game is off?
It’s possible I’ve grown rusty in the whole “assessing a woman’s interest” thing in the last two years. But I could have sworn she was reciprocating with the flirting.
Maybe she’s just being cautious. If that’s it, then I can’t say I really blame her. She doesn’t know me, not really. All she knows is she paid for a date with “Lewis,” and I showed up on her doorstep. But her aggressive reaction to my attempt to kiss her Saturday night just doesn’t sit well with me. That was more than being cautious. That was flat-out anger. And Josette is not a woman I want mad at me.
I’ve seen her chew up and spit out attorneys who have been doing this for forty years like it was nothing. That earned her my respect well before we ever met. A confident woman who doesn’t let the old boys’ club mentality of the Cook County Courts intimidate her deserves admiration. The fact that she’s breathtakingly beautiful is only an added bonus.
Fuck.
