Meet Cute(14)

“Those are yours. If you need anything else, let me know. I just want to make sure my sister’s future is protected.”

He pushes slowly out of the chair, and I rise as well. Even with my heels, the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder.

I hold out a hand but he ignores it, stepping closer until the tips of his polished shoes nearly touch mine. And then he wraps his arms around me.

I’m shocked by the affection, when all I anticipated was a handshake. He’s solid muscle, all hard ridges encased in an expensive suit. Even in his slightly disheveled state he smells divine. I’m annoyed that I notice any of these things. And at how nice it feels to be wrapped up in his strong, warm embrace.

It takes me longer than it should to react—to either extract myself or return the comforting gesture. I’m stunned, frozen because the boy I crushed on as a kid is now a man and hugging me, almost exactly like I did to him eight years ago. Except he’s not telling me he loves me. Or fangirling all over me like an idiot. I choke back the ancient embarrassment and tentatively pat him on the back.

His shoulders curl forward, arms tightening. A low tremor runs through him and he makes a soft, pained sound. I don’t know what to make of this, whether it’s authentic or contrived. Against my better judgment, I return the soft squeeze.

He drops his arms and takes a step back, creating distance as he bumps into the chair behind him. “Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair, sending it into further disarray, face turning a bright shade of red, eyes glassy. “I’m so sorry. I’m on autopilot. I think I’ve hugged five hundred people in the last forty-eight hours.”

Right. Of course, he’s not thinking clearly. I put on what I hope is an understanding smile. “You’re fine. Totally understandable, considering what you’ve been through this week.”

I motion to the door of the conference room. I need some space from this man. I might loathe him, but his situation pulls at my heartstrings, and he’s still hot as sin, which is something I should probably feel bad about noticing considering why he’s here.

Daxton shoves his hands in his pockets and walks beside me down the hall, shoulders still hunched, eyes on the floor.

Cara’s eyes go wide when she sees him, and she starts to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse and then with her hair. She looks like she’s trying not to hyperventilate by the time we reach her desk.

“Cara, this is Mr. Hughes. Can you please take down his contact information? I need all the files pulled on this trust.” I hand her the papers. “And I’d like to set up a meeting early next week to go over everything and make sure all the details are clear and in order.”

“Yes. Of course.” She takes off her glasses and folds them on her desk, then fumbles with her pen. I’ll forgive her the nervousness since I can relate. My palms are sweaty. I surreptitiously wipe them on my skirt, in preparation for his departure.

I offer my hand again, along with a polite smile. “I’ll speak with you soon.”

This time he takes it with a slow nod. His nails are ragged, but his hand is soft and warm, his grip firm. He covers our clasped hands with his free one, holding me captive. I meet his intense gaze; his tired eyes search my face. “Thank you again, Kailyn. I appreciate it. Everything.”

“You’re very welcome. And I’m so sorry about your parents. We’ll make sure your sister’s trust is safe and secure, and so is her future.” I can be professional and civil with this man.

His smile holds the kind of tension I’m familiar with—full of sadness, each condolence a reminder of the loss and pain that won’t dissipate anytime soon. “Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch soon.” I squeeze his hand and withdraw mine, lest he hugs me again, and in front of an audience this time.

I leave him with Cara and return to my office. I can’t believe I have to meet with him again. It’ll just be to deal with the trust, though, and then I can be done. It should be fairly straightforward. Anything to do with custody is on Beverly. At least it will be when I speak with her.

I dump my cooled latte from the takeout cup into my Daxton meme mug. I’d like to heat it up, but that would mean having to pass him on the way to the break room, so I settle for lukewarm. I try to tune out Cara’s conversation with Daxton while I check my email, but it’s difficult to focus on anything but his presence outside my office door. Cara’s voice is high-pitched and overly sweet, but she manages to keep herself together until he leaves the office. She practically trips over her own shoes and almost face-plants into my desk as soon as he’s gone.

“Oh my God. He’s so gorgeous. That’s so sad about his parents. He’s pretty much a single dad now. I think ovaries around the world will explode over this.” She drops into the chair on the opposite side of my desk and fans herself with her tablet. She glances pointedly at my mug. “I had such a crush on him as a girl. Or his character, I guess.”

“So did every other teenage girl who watched that show.” I toss my pen on the desk so I don’t chew on the cap. I’m annoyed that I want to share in the freaking fangirling. He really was dreamy back then. Not much has changed, at least in the looks department.

“He seemed to know you,” she presses.

“I went to law school with him.”

She leans forward, eyes wide, tablet clutched tightly in her hands. “Really? What was he like?”