“Jesus!” I yell.
“Oh, whoops. Didn’t mean to startle you,” the guy says, and I crane my head back to take in his form as he continues to stand.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because you’ve been startling me all over the place.”
He laughs a little and then shrugs, standing, finally, to what is apparently his full height.
Cripes, this dude is tall. As in, towers above all living things.
I follow the line of his body up until I finally land on his face. “How the hell tall are you?”
He chuckles a little before shrugging his shoulders. I swear to God, they almost touch the ceiling. “Seven foot two.”
“Christ. What the hell are you doing in a law library, Stretch?”
“Working.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Obviously, I’ve found a fellow smartass.” I bow regally. “I dig it.”
My reaction apparently lowers his guard a little because he smiles. “I go to NYU Law. In my third year, actually. But yes, I did do a stint in basketball before I broke my back.”
“Ah fuck, man,” I groan. He must hate having to answer questions about this shit every time he meets someone. His height pretty much makes it an impossible subject to ignore. “That blows. I’m sorry. But hey,” I console with a shrug. “If you’re any good at manipulation, you can make more money as a lawyer than you ever would have at basketball.”
He takes the files from my hands with a nod.
I get with the program. This guy doesn’t have any interest in shooting the shit with me, and to be honest, I don’t really have time for it either. Ideally, I would have spent the whole night wooing my potential blond lover, but I’ve got no use for dinner with another dude. Now that poker night is a thing, I’ve got dicks coming out of my ears. “I need copies of both of those.”
“Right,” he remarks. “They’re fifteen cents per—”
“Page,” I finish. “Yeah, I got it. The blonde who was working yesterday let me know.” He raises a brow, and I latch on to its significance. He must know who I’m talking about. “You wouldn’t happen to know her name, would you?”
He squints his eyes slightly, and I’m just observant enough to notice. Maybe he wants to date her—fuck her. Something.
I mean, I sure as hell want to fuck her, so I can’t blame the guy. But it could be something else. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want a good-looking fucker like me to have her information.
“It might have been my friend, but I’m not sure. There’re a lot of us law students working here,” he says diplomatically, and I know immediately that he’s lying. He’s holding my eyes, but in challenge, not in fact.
I decide to drop it and give him a shrug just for show. I don’t need this guy on my back, and I’ll figure out some other way to get her name. I know now that he’s in his third year at NYU Law and that he knows her. I also know it’s a good possibility she’s a law student, too. That’s as good a place to start as any.
The rest is just going to take me a little bit of time, but it’s nothing that I, the master of finding loopholes in all situations, won’t be able to solve.
After we go through the whole “I don’t have a library card, but here is my library card number” spiel, he disappears to make the copies, comes back, I pay, and then I step outside. I’m making my way down the large front steps when my phone rings.
I pull it out, look at the caller ID, and jump on the opportunity without pause. I’ve been trying to give her shit for a day and a half. It’s about time she gave me my five minutes.
“Wow. Look who it is. My former assistant, Liz. I tried calling you. More than once. But you didn’t answer.”
I jog down the stairs to the spot where Vinny is waiting and climb inside. He starts driving as soon as I shut the door, heading in the direction of my office.
“I was in labor, you asshole.”
“Yeah, but that’s a long process. I’ve heard women talk about it taking twelve, fifteen, even twenty-four hours. Are you telling me you couldn’t find time in an entire day to get back to me?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Well,” I grumble. “Congratulations on the baby, I guess.”
“Thanks. I can tell you’re really excited. So excited, in fact, that you’ve decided to extend my maternity leave.”
“What? No fucking way!”
She keeps talking as if I haven’t spoken. “Which is honestly so nice of you. Best boss ever.”
Goddamn, she’s a ballbuster. But it’s that quality that has made her the optimal assistant for a guy like me. She takes zero bullshit, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Not with me or with my clients.