Meet Cute(54)

Beverly nods, her lips pursed as she contemplates this for a moment. “Then you need to stress that we’d be flexible with hours here. Do you know what kind of salary they’re paying him there?” She raps on the counter with her long, French-manicured nails. “Matching or exceeding his current salary will definitely be an enticement.”

I regard her over the lip of my coffee cup, testing the sweetness. “That’s a pretty personal question.”

“You’ve been spending time with him, though, and he really does seem to trust you. I bet you could find out. Will you see him again this week?”

I’m not sure the time I’ve been spending with Dax, with my tongue in his mouth, is the kind Beverly is referring to. “I will.”

“Great. See what you get out of him.”

A heavy feeling settles in my stomach as I hand Beverly her coffee and she saunters out of the lounge. I’m tipping the balance out of my favor, and I’m unsure who’s going to get hurt in the fall.





On Saturday morning I meet Dax and Emme at the mall when it opens. Emme threads her arm through mine and leads me from store to store. Dax’s job is to keep us hydrated and carry the bags. Two hours into the shopping extravaganza and he looks about done.

Emme disappears into a changing room with an armload of clothes, and Dax drops into a chair. “How long is this going to go on?”

“We could be at it all day.” She’s having a great time. While I’m typically dressed in suits from Monday to Friday, my weekend wardrobe consists mostly of jeans in a multitude of colors, T-shirts, and Toms.

Dax kicks at the toe of my llama-print shoes. “Your feet are tiny.”

I wag my brows. “I can buy kids’ shoes if I want.”

“What about clothes?”

“I’m too curvy.”

His eyes move over me in a slow sweep. “I like your curves.”

Based on what I felt pressed up against my stomach the last time he kissed me, I believe him. I’m still not sure what to do about my feelings for him, if anything, but things have shifted between us, and it doesn’t feel as if it’s something I can control.

Emme throws open the changing room door. She’s dressed in a pair of ripped, low-rise jeans, and a top that shows a good four inches of belly.

“What the—”

I kick his shin to shut him up. “I like the jeans.”

Emme does a little spin. “Me, too! I don’t know about the shirt, though.”

“I don’t think it fits the school dress code, does it? What if you wore a tank top under it?” I look around at the display close by and find a bright green tank. “Why don’t you put this on. Layers are totally in right now.”

“Good idea!” She nabs the tank and disappears back inside the changing room.

Dax groans under his breath. “Freaking belly tops?”

I pat his shoulder. “This is only the beginning.”

“Did you wear belly tops?”

I lift a shoulder. “I had a couple.”

He looks me over again, this time with a hint of something like disapproval. “Yeah, well, she’s only thirteen. She needs to dress like the kid she is, not a miniature adult looking to go to the club.”

“She’s not walking around in booty shorts and bandeau bras, Dax.”

“And she never will.”

I laugh at his dark expression.

Emme comes out a minute later with the bright green tank under the shirt. “That’s perfect! Isn’t it, Dax?” I nudge him.

“Oh yeah, looks great.” He gives Emme two thumbs-up.

We spend another half an hour in the store, Emme modeling outfits, Dax moaning about gray hair and committing murder and then balking at the five-hundred-dollar bill.

He trails behind us, laden down with bags, complaining about being hungry.

“Just one more store and we can break for something to eat,” Emme calls over her shoulder.

She elbows me in the side and nods in the direction of a store. “I wanna go in there, but I don’t really want Dax to come.”

I follow her gaze to the teenage version of Victoria’s Secret. “I’ll take care of it. You go on ahead and I’ll meet you in there.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I’ll just tell him this store is girls only.”

“Okay.” She hugs me—something I’ve come to expect these days—and then rushes on ahead, disappearing inside.

I turn, watching Dax’s eyes go wide as he takes in the storefront. He makes flailing hand gestures. “I thought we were clothes shopping.”

“Bras and underwear constitute as clothes.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’m going to need therapy after this.”

I put a hand on his chest to stop him from following Emme into the store. “You’re not invited to this part of the shopping experience.”

He frowns and sighs. Then digs around in his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Flipping it open, he fishes out a few hundred dollars. “Will this be enough?”

“I should hope so.”

He slips the money into my hand and then clasps it in both of mine. “Please just no thongs. I need her to be more little girl than teenager for a while longer. Then I can fool myself into believing boys aren’t going to be a problem soon.”