After All by Kristen Proby Page 0,13

tramp.

See? I’m mature.

So I made a list of some of the people I know who might be good fits for Carter, just to get him started.

Okay, the list has three names on it because I don’t know that many people, but it’s something.

As I’m walking into the office, I’m surprised to see through the open door that Carter is already in his office, with Finn and Quinn sitting with him.

Now’s as good of a time as any.

I walk into the room, and all conversation stops.

“Good morning,” I say brightly.

“Good morning, Nora,” Carter says with a smile.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I say. “I just wanted to stop in before the workday gets under way, since this is not work related, and say that you did so well last night, Carter. You’ve got this dating thing in the bag. You’re charming and interesting and seriously, any girl would be lucky to date you.

“And in that vein, I went ahead and made a short list of nice women I know who you might want to call.”

I pass him the paper and then wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt as all three men look at one another in surprise, their mouths gaping open.

“See? Dating isn’t so hard. Okay, guys, have a good day.”

I hurry out of his office and shut the door behind me, then let out a gusty sigh.

I sounded like a complete buffoon.

But it had to happen.

Chapter Four

~Carter~

What. The fuck. Just happened.

“Uh, Carter?” Finn asks, scooting to the edge of his seat and bracing his elbows on his knees, looking at me with a furrowed brow and confusion written all over his face.

I just finished telling both of my brothers-in-law about last night’s successful date.

It was successful.

Or so I thought.

“I don’t know,” I reply without him voicing the rest of his question.

“Did you make her think you were going out on a friend date?” Quinn asks incredulously.

“I don’t think so.” I stand and shove my hands in my pockets.

“What, exactly, did you say when you asked her out?”

How the hell do I know? I was nervous as hell. She was sitting three feet from me looking sexy as all get-out, and I was doing my damnedest to not pull her under me and have my way with her.

I pace behind my desk, trying to think back to the night Nora and I were stuck in the office. “We were talking about getting back in the dating saddle, and I admitted that I’m not very good at it.”

“Understatement,” Finn mutters, earning a glare from me. “Go on.”

“And she said that I couldn’t be that bad, and I suggested she go to dinner with me.”

“As what, a practice date?” Quinn asks.

“No, I—” I pause and lean on the back of my desk chair, then hang my head. “Jesus, I’m a dumbass.”

“You said it,” Finn says cheerfully.

“This is a lost cause,” I say. “Nora’s never going to see me as anything but her boss. And frankly, that’s probably how it should be.”

“Listen, Nora’s the first woman who has turned your head even a little bit since Darcy died,” Quinn says. “And take my word for it, she likes you, too.”

“Clearly. She just marched in here and gave me a list of women to date. Nora is not on this list.”

“She’s scared,” Finn says quietly. “And who can blame her? She ran out of here like a frightened bunny.”

“I’m hardly terrifying.”

“You can be,” Quinn says. “I’ve seen you work a courtroom. Hell, I’ve heard you yell at clients from my office.”

“And you’re not a yeller,” Finn adds. “You can be intense, but you’re also kind and, I agree, not scary. I don’t think she’s scared of you, she’s afraid of what could happen if this were to go further.”

“You guys should have been psychologists, not attorneys,” I say as I sit in my chair with a sigh.

“You have to court her,” Finn continues. “I know it sounds old-fashioned, but that’s what it is. You need to show her that you’re interested. Make an effort.”

“Flowers,” Quinn suggests. “Small gestures that show you pay attention to her. Show her that you’re interested.”

“Sex therapists instead of attorneys.”

“Funny.” Finn stands and Quinn follows suit. “If Nora’s the one you want—”

“Without question.”

Both men smile down at me.

“Then go earn her,” Quinn says with a wink. “You may be rusty, but you’ve got this.”

“I’ve got a meeting,” Finn says, checking the time. “Keep us posted.”

“A couple of gossiping hens,” I mutter as I wake up my computer and search for a