Meet Cute(64)

“It was a long time ago. It doesn’t really matter anymore. Besides, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“I still feel bad. We were real assholes, especially me, and I’m not sure I’ve changed all that much. Dax is different, though. He’s a good guy in a bad situation, so I’m hoping we can wipe the slate clean since Dax and I are tight and he seems to like you.”

“Consider it wiped.” My phone buzzes on the bar top and I glance at the screen. It’s Dax asking me to meet him in the room. “Looks like Dax is done with his fangirls. I’ll leave you to deal with yours, then.” I incline my head to a group of women standing not far away, two of which are looking in his direction.

“Being Dax’s best friend is as much a blessing as a curse.” He winks and downs his scotch, then raises the glass as the bartender passes.

When I get back to the room, I find Dax on the couch, shoeless with his feet propped on the coffee table, tie loose and the top buttons on his shirt undone. There’s another panel this afternoon and a dinner we’re supposed to attend tonight. Dax surprised me last night with a very stunning dress, and a pair of heels I tried on while we were shopping but decided were far too extravagant to purchase. Apparently he felt I needed them anyway. But based on how tired he looks, I’m not sure Dax is going to be up for leaving this room anytime soon.

“Is it too early to start drinking?” His cufflinks clink on the coffee table, and he drapes his shirt over the arm of the couch.

I check the time. “It’s after eleven.”

He drops his head back on the couch. “I should wait until at least noon.”

It’s been an emotional morning; the outpouring of empathy over his loss is heartwarming but also painful and exhausting for him. “Don’t we have a bottle of champagne that we never got around to opening last night? If we have orange juice, I can make you a mimosa, which I believe is completely acceptable before noon.”

He holds out his hand. “Come here first.”

I cross the room, still wearing my heels. A few of the girls I used to study with are here and want to meet up for drinks. I wasn’t sure whether Dax would want time with his own friends or not. It seems he’s far more interested in me over everyone else—although I’d attribute that in part to all of the condolences, and how it makes the loss feel fresh again.

As soon as I’m within reach, he takes my hand and tugs me closer. His eyes roam over me, his fatigue shifting to heat. He sits up, one leg on either side of mine, and runs his hands down the outside of my thighs. “You know what I need more?”

I thread my fingers through his thick, sandy hair. He really is absolutely gorgeous. It’s no wonder his panel was 90 percent women.

It wouldn’t have been difficult to convince people we’re just friends this weekend since I don’t quite fit the model type I’m sure most people would picture him with. And while he hasn’t come out and said we’re together, the implication is there in the way he speaks to me, and how attentive he’s been despite the barrage of flirtatious women who constantly surround him.

He plays with the hem of my skirt. “Did you need to check out my panty situation?”

“Mmm. I think I do.” He pushes the fabric up my thighs.

I’m wearing a pencil skirt, but the material has some stretch, so it slides easily, bunching at my waist. I’m wearing black hose with a lacy pattern that goes all the way to the waistband and obstructs the view of what’s underneath.

He pulls at the hose. “Are these expensive?”

“Not terribly, no.” I mean, they’re not cheap, but I have a good twenty pairs at home.

“Do you have more of them here?”

“I have a pair of nude ones.”

“No pattern?”

I shake my head.

“Hmm. I’ll be careful, then.”

I’m not sure how to gauge his mood. He’s intense, which I don’t mind in the least. It’s been good to see him like this, in his element with his peers, engaged in something other than Emme. Not that his focus shouldn’t be on her, just that his concern could be smothering if he’s not careful. She’s a teenager; they need privacy just like adults.

He removes my shoes and then the hose before slipping my feet back into the heels one at a time. He trails his fingers lightly up the outside of my legs and breathes out a groan. “You didn’t buy these on your shopping trip with my sister, did you?”

“No. I made a special trip.” My panties are sheer with black lace accents, and also a thong, which Dax soon discovers when he cups my ass.

His gaze flips up to mine, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip. “Turn around for me, baby.”

I do as he asks and wait a few very long seconds before I peek over my shoulder. His expression makes my sometimes shaky body confidence soar. It’s not always easy to be a short, curvy, dark-haired woman living in a Barbie world, but Dax has a way of making me feel beautiful.

“Fuck, Kailyn.”

“You like them, then?”

I jump when his palms settle on my hips and his lips press against my right butt cheek, followed by his teeth when he bites down. “I love them.”

He slips his finger under the thin strip of fabric connecting the waistband. A wave of goose bumps flashes over my skin as he drags his knuckle along the divide.