Not That Kind of Guy Page 5

  More like the other way around. “No, but my family is a lot.” And she hadn’t brought a guy home—even a strictly platonic guy—since Chris had dumped her. Even if Matt wasn’t on-fire hot and obviously eligible, her family would make assumptions about him.

  “I like a lot.” He smiled again, and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get out of the car on her boneless legs.

  “Your funeral.”

  “You could probably get a continuance that way.”

  She laughed at that.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  OH, HELL YES. MATT was finally going to get more information about Bridget. He might never get to touch her in the very nonplatonic way that he wanted to touch her, but he just might get to know her. And that was almost as good. Although spending time with Bridget around other people was bound to be difficult. He had enough trouble training his face not to do a sappy puppy-dog thing whenever he looked at her. It would be all the more difficult if he knew more about her. Like where she grew up and how she interacted with her family. Worth the risk.

  He liked the trimmed lawn and the neat brick house. It looked so normal. So far from what he’d grown up with. The back of his neck was damp with sweat as they approached the door to her childhood home, and not only from the August heat.

  Before she fit her key into the door, she said, “My parents were divorced for like twenty years, and now they’re back together. It’s weird, and we don’t talk about it because we’re Irish. We don’t talk about a lot of things—race, religion, politics, and sports now that we have a Notre Dame–Michigan rivalry in the house. We save it all up and yell at each other once a year over the holidays. And then we pretend that it’s just about the food.” The words came out in a rush, and Matt wanted to reach out and pat her on the back. Like always, he stopped himself. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Why was she so nervous?

  “It’s okay.” Maybe sharing something about his fucked-up family would make her feel better. “My parents are still married, but I’ve seen them kiss maybe twice.”

  “Count yourself lucky. Now that they’re back together, we might be walking into some grossness.”

  “It’ll only be gross for you. I don’t know them at all.”

  She looked back over her shoulder, and her mouth twisted with a hint of humor. Just a little bit of her Instagram smile. His insides rioted with the need to touch her. The need to have her want him to kiss her. “Trust me, it will be just as gross for you.”

  They entered the house, which was brighter than he expected it to be. As much as he wanted to linger at the wall of photos, he followed Bridget toward the back of the house. When they got to the kitchen, an older couple were sitting at the dine-in table, next to each other.

  When he looked at her mother, he saw where Bridget got the eyes and the cheekbones. The man, presumably Bridget’s father, stood up and eyed Matt warily.

  “Mom, Dad, this is Matt Kido.” Both of them extended their hands for him to shake.

  “Mrs. Nolan,” he said as he shook the older woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “It’s Molly, please. Mrs. Nolan was my mother-in-law.” She pulled a face, which endeared her to Matt. Like Bridget, there was something inherently genuine about Molly.

  Bridget’s father tried to crush all the bones in Matt’s hand, and he barely kept a grimace off his face. “Mr. Nolan.”

  The other man grunted.

  “Dad, he’s my intern. Could you not break his hand?” Bridget sighed. “We have a lot to do this weekend.”

  “But you can’t miss the party.” Molly sounded as though it was a personal affront.

  Bridget ignored her. “Can I get you a sparkling water, Matt?”

  He nodded at Bridget. “Sure.” Although he would have understood if she’d wanted to leave, he liked seeing how her family interacted. They were so different from his. When his family was all alone, they were normal. But because of who they were and the fact that people always wanted something from them, they had to be more careful in the presence of outsiders.

  “Take a seat,” Mr. Nolan grunted.

  “Call him Sean,” Molly said as he did so. “So, you’re an intern with the state’s attorney’s office?” He felt the woman sizing him up. From his research—and after the first day at the office, he’d done research—he’d found out that she was a curator at the Museum of Contemporary Art. She probably knew his parents, but he wasn’t about to make the connection for her. A connection with his family wouldn’t do anything to further the cause of Molly continuing to like him. His parents were, technically, part of the problem, even though they were passable philanthropists—mostly for the tax write-offs.

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going into my third year at the University of Chicago.”

  “And you didn’t want to go to a firm?” Sean Nolan asked.

  Bridget put a glass of sparkling water with a slice of lime on the table and sat down next to him. “Matt’s not a money-grubbing jackass like Chris.”

  He’d never heard her speak quite so harshly, and she’d let slip a bit of a South Side accent. He liked it. But he also realized that he knew even less about her than he’d thought. Everything about her at the office was a façade. And that made him sad at the same time that he wanted to get to know her after he was done being her intern.

  The front door opened and loud voices drifted in—two men and one woman. All three walked into the kitchen, and Matt figured that now was as good a time as any to meet Bridget’s entire family. She caught his gaze and rolled her eyes at him.

  He stood up and shook hands with both her brothers as she introduced them. Luckily, neither of them seemed to be as irked by his existence as their father had been. And Bridget’s future sister-in-law, Hannah, looked downright hopeful about his presence.

  * * *

  • • •

  HANNAH NEEDED TO WIPE that fucking twinkle out of her eye. Bridget recognized and feared that twinkle. That twinkle meant trouble. Her future sister-in-law was like her Frenchie with a bone when she got a bright idea in her head that resulted in a twinkle in her eye.

  “Matt’s my intern.” Bridget moved toward the door. “And we have to leave.”

  “You’re not even going to stay for dinner? It’ll be so nice that we’re all together.” Bridget’s mother sounded pained, even though they hadn’t had a family dinner for two decades before last year. All of a sudden they were a family again? “And your nice young man is certainly starving.”

  Bridget shot a look at Matt that hopefully said, Let’s get out of here before she just up and adopts you. On the other hand, an evening with her family might leave him not caring about his parents who never kiss.

  She nearly sang with relief when Matt looked everyone in the eye and said, “We really do have a long night ahead of us, and I’m good with takeout.” In that moment, he was her knight in shining armor. Though he seemed weirdly excited to stay up all night working on the case, she wasn’t in a position to question it right now.

  “And you’re sure you’re going to skip the weekend?” Hannah asked, pouting at Bridget, which prompted another eye roll. She was going to sprain something if her family didn’t cut it out.

  Though her brothers might be okay with her missing Las Vegas—because they knew Bridget would spend the whole weekend trying to get them to take stupid drunken pictures—she knew Hannah wouldn’t let her off the hook quite so easily. Before she could protest, Bridget said, “Yeah, we have to work on this sexual assault case. It’s important to get justice for the victim.”

  Her future sister-in-law had to understand that.

  Hannah opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and said, “You’ll be working all weekend? With Matt?” She didn’t look upset at that idea at all. In fact, Bridget detected a subtle eyebrow waggle.

  Bridget narrowed her gaze at her future sister
-in-law, who apparently had a death wish. “Yes, because I know how to live.”

  Hannah just shrugged. Apparently, she thought that prepping for a sexual assault trial with an intern she supervised was a recipe for romance. Bridget shook her head while Hannah mouthed, “Call me.”

  Her family had already been insufferable. Growing up mostly with three men who had pictures next to the definition of “dude” was bad enough. Now her mother was back in the picture and ready to make up for the time she’d missed out on parenting teenage Bridget. And she had a matchmaking future sister-in-law.

  Matt chose that moment to shoot another devastating smirk her way. “Gino’s East?”

  Fuck. Maybe Hannah had the right idea, and he really was perfect.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MATT HAD NEVER BEEN the kind of guy who partied so hard that he often woke up disoriented, not knowing where he was. It had happened maybe once or twice when he’d wanted to get in trouble with the proctors at boarding school so his parents would pay him a bit of attention during term breaks. But he hadn’t pulled an all-nighter in years.

  And he’d certainly never woken up on a couch as ratty as the one in Bridget’s office, which had been there long before her tenure at the state’s attorney’s office. So waking up to her banging her office phone against the cradle over and over again, the sound like a crack of thunder in the tiny office, had him sitting straight up. Mindless of the crick in his neck, he stood up ready to fight someone. Her obvious distress made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t examine right then.

  She’d been up all night, her stamina lasting long past his. It was sort of edifying to see her normally sleek hair disheveled and the dark circles under her eyes. He’d previously been under the impression that she was totally unflappable. She had this distinct air of not needing anything from anyone, which he recognized right away, because he’d worn that attitude himself for a long time. When he still bought into his parents’ bullshit worldview.

  At the same time, concern rushed through him. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but seeing Bridget in distress—however subtle the signs of that distress might be—made him deeply uncomfortable. That need to try to swoop in and take all of her stress away wasn’t very progressive, and he tried to tamp it down whenever it came up. He knew for a fact that she wouldn’t appreciate it. She’d probably fire him if she thought he was too far up in her business.

  It didn’t even make sense. She wasn’t his girlfriend, and she was never going to be his girlfriend.

  The only thing that would be worse than watching Bridget lose her shit right now would be to be cast out of her orbit prematurely. His internship was over today. Without this case to work on, she would send him home, and she would never see him again. He had to drink in as much of her as possible because he was pretty sure she wouldn’t give him the time of day if he wasn’t somehow connected to work.

  At that moment, she was still banging away with the phone. Knowing that she’d regret smashing it to pieces, he approached her and took it out of her hands, setting it on the cradle. Feeling particularly brazen, he took both of her hands in his and squatted in front of her. He ignored how touching her made him feel.

  She met his gaze, and her eyes were glassy and wet. One tear escaped, and he wanted to wipe it away. He couldn’t.

  “What happened?”

  “She . . . she decided not to testify.” Her voice was smoky and ragged, and it turned him on, despite himself. “Someone must have gotten to her.”

  Matt’s guts twisted. He wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have thrown everything on the desk onto the floor if he was in Bridget’s position. She might have this reputation in the office as an unstoppable badass, but it was only because of how deeply she cared about her cases and the complaining witnesses she worked with.

  “Do you think talking to her would help?”

  “No.” Bridget’s voice broke on a sob. “She hung up on me and said she was changing her number.”

  Matt rested his hip on the side of Bridget’s desk, ignoring her raised eyebrows. Even ticking her off a little by casually occupying her space was better than the crying. He picked up her phone, and the dial tone was miraculously still online. Then he pressed redial and got a message that the number was no longer in service.

  The complaining witness had worked fast. He met Bridget’s gaze and he knew they were thinking the same thing.

  “He got to her and paid her off.” Bridget’s words were flat and full of scorn. “Rich assholes always get away with this shit.”

  Matt tried not to flinch. He was a rich asshole born to a long line of rich assholes. Even though he was pretty sure that his crush on her was obvious, he hadn’t been too much of a dick about his family money.

  He wasn’t stupid enough to hate being rich—not when it opened so many doors and gave him so many options. But he didn’t like that the whole point of being wealthy, for his parents at least, had been to stay rich. He knew that his father’s colleagues, if not his father himself, had probably paid off people wronged by their company in the way that Mary Louise had been paid off.

  Maybe working here this summer—throwing himself into it—had been his attempt at penance. But it was paltry and inadequate. It had been stupid of him to even try when there was no way that he wouldn’t become exactly the kind of guy that Bridget hated—a rich asshole whose only objective in life was staying rich.

  “You did your best.” He was pretty sure that wouldn’t comfort her. “And, hey, now you can go to your family’s bachelor-bachelorette thing in Vegas.”

  When he said that, Bridget rolled her eyes. And he couldn’t help it, but that turned him on, too. The way her emotions flashed in her pretty gray-blue eyes drove him wild. She drove him wild.

  And without this case, he was done working for her. There was nothing stopping him from telling her how he felt about her now. Nothing except for the fact that she’d given him no indication that she felt anything but mild annoyance for him.

  Bridget ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh. “The thing is, I don’t want to go.”

  “Why not?” Her family was perfectly lovely—so much more open and friendly than his parents that he hadn’t wanted to leave their neat brick house the night before. “It seems like it will be fun.”

  Her lips pressed together, and for a long beat he was pretty sure she was going to tell him to buzz off.

  He stood, even though it hurt to stay away from her. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

  She waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s not that.” She paused again, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach out and move the recalcitrant strand of hair off her face. “My ex will be there and this was going to be a good opportunity to miss out on seeing him.”

  A hot spike of jealousy ran through him at that. Jealousy that he had no right to feel. The proprietary interest he had in Bridget and whoever she’d dated in the past wouldn’t be a good look even if she was into him and he hadn’t spent the whole summer as her employee. She’d made it clear that she didn’t see the potential for anything romantic between them even after the summer was over. So he trained his face to stay impassive.

  Still, curiosity got the best of him. “What happened with the two of you?”

  She grimaced. “It’s a long story . . . like since-we-were-four-and-six long story.”

  Even if she wanted to date him, Matt couldn’t compete with that kind of history. Not that it was a competition. You’re better than this, Kido. Without your trust fund, you wouldn’t even be able to compete with the guy she’s been in love with since she was four.

  To his surprise, she kept talking. “It’s over. Really over.” She sounded unequivocal about that. “I’m just really mad that this rich fuck is going to get away with this.”

  It was his turn to grimace. She’d just reminded him
that even with the trust fund, he wouldn’t be the guy for her. And after meeting her family the night before, he understood. She needed someone who would fit into her loud, boisterous family—not some poor little rich boy who didn’t really fit in anywhere.

  When had he started feeling so sorry for himself? Once school was back in session, he needed to get back on the dating horse, maybe someone not in law school.

  The idea of dating anyone but Bridget didn’t sit well, though. And he wished they had time to figure out why that was.

  “Unless . . .” Bridget’s words pulled him out of his sad-sack quagmire. “Do you have plans this weekend?”

  * * *

  • • •

  THIS IS COLOSSALLY STUPID.

  He’d met her family the night before and was probably terrified of them. She was, and she’d grown up in the midst of their mess. He probably had plans with some gorgeous girl his own age—maybe even one of the other interns. At that moment, she regretted boxing him out as effectively as she had.

  If she’d learned more about him, perhaps her crush wouldn’t be going strong three months later. She might have learned that he had some hideous political views or was the total fuckboy that his reputation said he was. Given her experience with Chris, neither of those things would have been enough to warn her away.

  On the other hand, this might be a good idea. Spending the weekend with him could get rid of some of his mystique. When he’d asked about why she and Chris had broken up, she was tempted to tell him the real reason—the reason she hadn’t even shared with her own family. Not because she was ashamed of her choices. She couldn’t afford the shame. But they didn’t need to know all the details. Chris was still for all practical purposes part of their family, and she wasn’t about to blow that up just because they weren’t together anymore.

  The longer Matt waited to respond, the more Bridget wanted a hole to appear in the floor under her chair and swallow her completely. She made a nervous wiping motion with her hand. She said, “Never mind—” at the same time that he said, “I have plans now, with you.”