Meet Cute(28)

“Or they want you to stop being sad.” She adjusts her knapsack and chews on the inside of her lip.

“We should probably go. I’m sure Kailyn has meetings this afternoon.” Dax’s hands are shoved in his pockets and he looks contrite.

“Oh yeah, right. Are you taking me home?”

“We’ll talk about it in the car.” He tosses the keys to her and she manages to catch them. “Why don’t you pick the music since I know you hate all my presets.”

“Okay. Thanks again, Kailyn.”

“It’s no problem.”

She glances over her shoulder as she crosses the lot. The lights flash on a black Audi. Of course Daxton drives a sleek sports car.

Dax rolls back on his heels. “Thank you.”

I adjust my purse strap and shrug. “I’m legally obligated to be here, so there’s really nothing to thank me for.”

“You’re not legally obligated to be nice to Emme.”

“I’m not going to be hard on a grieving teenager. That’s your job, not mine. I won’t be an asshole to her just because you were an asshole to me.”

“I’m sorry about losing my co—”

I cut him off. “I’m not asking for an apology, nor do I want one.”

“But can’t I—”

I glance at my watch. “I need to get back to the office. I’ll see you tomorrow to discuss moving forward with the custody case and where I need to be involved.” I have phone calls and some case notes to review on the new pro bono case Holly sent my way. We’re trying to make it possible for this family to formally adopt a seven-year-old who’s been bounced around for the past two years.

“Will I be allowed to apologize then?”

He falls into step beside me as I head for the parking lot. I can feel him looking at me. Maybe trying to figure me out. Half of me wants to hug him and tell him it’ll get better eventually, and the other half wants an apology, but not for taking out his frustration on me.

“I’ll let you know if I feel like hearing it tomorrow.”

I stop at my very practical Volvo and unlock the door. Daxton is still standing there, with his hands in his pockets.

“Is there anything else?” I meet his perplexed gaze. I’m sure he’s used to people giving in to him all the time, accepting apologies just because he smiles and looks pretty.

He withdraws his hand from his pocket and holds up a small tin. “Here are your mints back.”

I wave him off as I open the door and tuck myself into the driver’s seat, careful not to let my skirt ride up. When I look up his eyes are on my legs. My hose have a lacy-looking pattern on them. They’re sexy, but still professional. “Keep them. Who knows when I’ll push your pissed-off button and you’ll need them again.” I close the door before he can reply, and then put on my seat belt, check the rearview mirror, and back out of the spot.

He’s still standing where I left him, mints in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth.





Chapter Eight





Aunt Flow Woes


Daxton



Despite the shitty circumstances, I remember exactly why I was semi-obsessed with Kailyn during college. We used to banter all the time during class discussions, volley comments back and forth with the teacher as the mediator. I very rarely won the arguments, but the challenge and the hard-ons were totally worth it.

She was always a tell-it-like-it-is, no-bullshit girl, and that hasn’t changed at all. I’ve only ever seen her drop that cool, unaffected front once, maybe twice, since I’ve met her.

I don’t know what I did to make her dislike me so much, other than earning the top spot in the class, but she seems to have a pretty serious hate-on for me. That rivalry used to amp me up back then, and apparently it still does.

As soon as she pulls out of the lot, I make a necessary adjustment in my pants and head to my car. I can hear Emme singing from twenty feet away, the bass of whatever song she has on making the windows rattle.

I startle her when I open the door, and she hastily turns down the volume.

“I’m really sorry,” she says quietly as I pull out of the lot and head toward my office.

“I know. How long has this Billy kid been bullying you?”

She fidgets with the sleeve of her hoodie. “Like, since sixth grade. It’s not new, it’s just worse now, or it feels that way. I could’ve handled the cartoon, but then he had that stupid meme of you—you know, the one where you’re crying. I told him to leave me alone and he wouldn’t so I punched him. He deserved it, Dax. He was being an ass—jerk!”

If it had been me in her place, if I were closer to her age and some kid did that to her, would I have just let it slide? Probably not. “Violence is never the answer.”

She hangs her head. “I know.”

“But I’m glad you stood up for yourself and didn’t let that punk push you around.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Next time use your words. What he did was wrong, but so was punching him, even if he deserved it.”

“I know.” After a few beats of silence she asks, “So you’re not mad at me?”