Meet Cute(66)

“I don’t want to talk about this right now. I only have another twenty-four hours with no responsibilities to get in the way.” He picks me up and carries me to the bed, his mouth on mine, hard and demanding this time. The sex is the same.

Half an hour later I’m stretched out along Dax’s side, one leg thrown over his, while his fingers trail gently up and down my arm. His phone rings from across the room and he sighs heavily.

“I can check to see who it is, if you want.” I push up and roll off the bed, not waiting for his reply. We can’t ignore phone calls when someone else is in charge of Emme’s care.

The caller ID comes up as his work. “It’s someone from your firm. Do you want to take it?”

“Yeah. I probably should.”

I rush the phone over and he answers before it goes to voicemail. It’s already four in the afternoon, we’ve missed the panel we were planning to attend, and I’m sure the opportunity for drinks with former classmates has passed. Dinner is in a couple of hours, and it might be good to go down to the hotel bar and be social for a while, even if the idea isn’t all that appealing. And I don’t want that gorgeous dress to go to waste.

Before I have a chance to make a move, Dax sits up and grabs my wrist. At my questioning look he shakes his head and presses the phone to his chest. “Don’t get dressed yet,” he whispers.

I climb back up on the bed, still naked just like he is. The conversation lasts about ten minutes, during which time I grab his laptop so he can make notes about a case he needs to follow up on when he’s in the office on Monday.

“Sorry about that,” he says after he ends the call, tossing his phone on the nightstand. He closes the laptop and moves it as well. “I don’t know what the point of that was. It could’ve waited until Monday.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Freeman is still getting used to the fact that I can’t work ninety hours a week. He forgets that people have lives on the weekend and we don’t all work twenty-four hours a day seven days a week.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Have you given any more thought to the possibility of switching firms?”

“It’s starting to look a lot more desirable. I can’t keep these hours up, and my priorities have changed. As much as I want partner, I think you’re right about waiting on that, at least until Emme’s more settled and so am I. And money isn’t a driving force like it used to be.”

“Well, I’m sure the salary would be comparable at Whitman. I think you have to do whatever is going to make life easier.”

“It’s obviously an excellent firm, since Beverly was smart enough to snatch you up right out of law school.” He grabs me by the waist and rolls on top of me, fitting himself between my thighs. “I’d get to see you every day if I switched to your firm, wouldn’t I?”

“You would.”

“I think I’d like that, a lot. But the pencil skirt uniform might create some embarrassing problems.”





Dax drops me off at my place in the early afternoon on Sunday. He invites me for dinner but I blew off Holly this morning for our standing brunch date, so I’m making up for it with an early dinner. I also need an Epsom salt bath and a little space after such an intense weekend.

I squeeze in a short bath before I pick Holly up and drive us to the market. My thighs are tight, my calves ache, and even the arches of my feet are sore, possibly from all the toe curling.

“How was the conference?” Holly asks as we grab coffees and stroll along the promenade. The funky little shops remind me of my mom. When I was young we’d come to the market, or hit all the garage sales on the weekend in search of hidden treasures. My house is an eclectic mix of art pieces scavenged from various sales over the years. None of my plates and cups match, because they’re more of the same, items purchased during adventures with Holly or my parents. My house is where I let my nostalgia hang out. Although I do keep useful memorabilia at work in the form of mugs.

“It was good. I ran into a few old classmates, caught up a bit.”

“And how was Daxton?” Holly isn’t much of one for beating around the bush, and I already told her he was going to be there. Until now I haven’t mentioned the progression from enemies to friends to lovers, but I can’t keep this to myself anymore.

“Kailyn?” she prompts when I don’t answer right away. “What’s going on between you two?”

“We slept together.”

She comes to a halt in the middle of the street. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I swear you said you slept with him, but I must’ve heard that incorrectly.”

A few people glance our way. “Keep it down!”

“None of these people know you, and I’m sure most of them would applaud you for sleeping with a hot former actor.” Holly threads her arm through mine and leads me away from the thick crowd, down a side street. “I don’t know what to say. Is this like a cathartic hate fuck, or what?”

“Uhh…I think it falls more into the ‘or what’ category.”

Holly gives me a pensive look before she asks, “Is he any good?”

“Are sloths slow?”

“Want to rate him for me? Like on a scale of Jason Momoa to Ryan Reynolds, where would he be?”