Meet Cute(60)

“Yeah. But it still feels like I’m up for the Shitty Parent of the Year Award.”

“Hey.” I put a hand on his chest. “You’re new at this. Cut yourself some slack, Dax.”

He blows out a breath. “I just don’t want to mess this up.”

He picks up his boxers and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. I watch his incredible ass disappear into his boxer briefs, then he disappears into the bathroom to discard the spent condom.

I rush to grab my bra from the floor and slip my arms through the straps.

“Let me help.” Dax sweeps my hair over my shoulder and hooks the clasp, dropping a kiss at the base of my neck. I shiver at the tender contact, and again when he drags a single finger down my spine. He plucks my shirt from the edge of the bed and helps me into that as well.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.” His wide palms settle on my waist and he gives me a chagrined smile. “I would’ve liked some naked cuddle time.”

I can’t quite judge his mood, unsure if he’s trying to defuse his own panic or the sudden tension between us. This isn’t some casual screw. There are consequences for our actions, and one of them is downstairs right now.

I laugh, but my anxiety comes through loud and clear in my high pitch. “What if I’m not a cuddler?”

Dax slips a hand through my hair, maybe trying to tame it. “You’ve never cuddled with me.”

I’m sure he can sense my worry, and I’m certain he believes it has everything to do with Emme. “They’ll be other opportunities,” I tell him.

Part of me realizes that the sex shouldn’t have happened, and not solely based on location and timing, but the other part of me wants this connection because it’s so much stronger than anything I’ve ever known before. And that terrifies me because I have so much wrapped up in both of them. The stakes are high, the potential losses great, and the possible damage frighteningly emotional.

“We need to be careful, for Emme’s sake,” I whisper.

“I agree. It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

“It is.” She’s already attached to me, and I’m attached to her. I don’t even want to consider how this might compromise my career, or my role as Emme’s conservator on top of everything else. And if we don’t work out, then what? I lose him, Emme, and the one thing I’ve been working all these years for? What will I have then?

I tense at the sound of footfalls coming up the stairs. The slam of a door follows and I blow out a relieved breath. “We should go back downstairs.”

Dax nods, but he doesn’t look all that happy as he dresses quickly. Before he opens the door, he takes my face in his hands, eyes searching mine before he tips my head up and kisses me. It’s a slow tangle of tongues that makes my knees weak and my heart stutter. He pulls away on a deep inhale and caresses my bottom lip with his thumb. “Let me make sure the coast is clear.”

He unlocks the door and opens it a crack, cringing as it creaks. “I’ll WD-40 that for next time,” he whispers, then peeks down the hall. “All clear.”

My heart hammers in my chest as we tiptoe to the stairs and steal swiftly back to the living room.

I rush to the front hall and take our shoes out of the closet, then open and slam the door, maybe a little harder than I need to.

Dax leans against the doorjamb, looking ridiculously calm. I poke his shoulder and he grabs my finger, pulling me to him. “You need to relax, Kailyn.”

I exhale a deep breath. Maybe I’m overreacting, but then there’s more going on here than two consenting adults having sex. “Sorry. I think we need to plan this better in the future.” I’m talking like this is going to happen again, even though I’ve already told myself it shouldn’t.

“I agree. I’d like a sleepover where I get to see what you look like with bed head, and we can have lazy morning sex.”

I need his levity with everything going on in my head. “Pretty sure a sleepover is out of the question for the time being.” I lift my chin, eyes on the ceiling.

“We’ll figure something out.” He links our pinkies. “Come sit with me for a while before you tell me you have to go home.”





Two days later I’m in my office, files spread out over my desk, when my cell rings. It’s Dax. Yesterday he sent me a very beautiful flower arrangement. I’ve never been much of a hearts and flowers girl, but the gerbera daisies in vibrant colors are particularly lovely, and coming from him they mean something special. Which is a problem. I’m more invested than I ever meant to be, and now not only do we have to try to hide this from Emme, I’m also supposed to convince him to work at Whitman. My head’s a mess over this.

I pick up my phone and put some cheer in my voice. “Good morning, Mr. Hughes. How may I help you?”

“Are you at your desk right now? Can you check your email?”

“Yes, and yes. Why? Is there a problem?”

“No problem, this could actually be the opposite of a problem. I’ll wait until you open the email before I ask more questions.”

“Personal or professional?”

“Personal.”

I grab my home laptop from my bag and access my emails, pulling up the one he forwarded. “This is about the alumni conference.” Our law school is hosting a two-day conference featuring panels, speeches, and workshops led by some of the top lawyers to graduate from their program. I was offered an opportunity to lead a panel, but wasn’t sure I could commit to it, or even wanted to.