Meet Cute (Page 20)

“Did he apologize for what he did in law school?” Holly does her arched brow thing.

I give my head a slow shake. “Maybe he doesn’t remember? Who knows?”

“You think he’s conveniently forgotten that he handed in your paper late?” Holly asks.

I stir my drink. “You know how people’s memories are, they can alter and shift to suit their own purpose. Besides, it’s irrelevant now. I got the job I wanted straight out of law school, so it really shouldn’t matter anymore.”

“Does that mean you’ll be fine working with him?”

“I’ll hardly see him. Our departments are on opposite ends of the floor.”

“But you will see him if he’s working for the same firm. Don’t think I don’t remember for a second how worked up you used to get after you had a class with him.”

“He was my competition.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. Who’s going to mediate when you two go head-to-head at your Monday meetings?”

“We’re adults. We don’t need to be mediated.” I’m not sure that’s entirely true, because I happen to enjoy those heated moments when I piss him off and he gets all up in my personal space without even realizing it. He has pretty eyes and a gorgeous mouth. And face. And body.

“I predict one of two things will happen.” She stuffs another fry in her mouth, chewing slowly to draw out the suspense. “You either murder each other or screw each other’s brains out.”

“Those are two very extreme options. Both of which will not happen.”

“You were in love with him for years.”

“Correction. I had a crush on the character he portrayed. A fictional character. That is not even remotely the same as being in love with someone.”

“I just think you need to seriously consider whether you really want him working at your firm. Is it worth it?”

I’m about to reply, but my phone rings—the only person who calls me outside of work is sitting across from me, which I realize is a little depressing. Work is my vice and my hobby, and possibly my boyfriend.

It’s probably a telemarketer or something. I check the caller ID and frown. Daxton is calling me on a Friday night? I hope nothing has happened to Emme.

“I need to take this.” Holly nods as I answer the call. “Hello?”

“Kailyn? Hey. Hi. Is this you?”

“It is, yes. Is everything okay?”

I don’t quite catch his reply, something about being dizzy or busy. Probably the latter since I can’t see him calling me about being dizzy.

The restaurant is loud so it’s hard to hear. “I’m sorry?”

“It sounds like you’re out somewhere. Are you on a date?” The last part has bite.

I sit up a little straighter. “Did you call to ask about my social life?”

“No, I—I didn’t . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I just . . . so—”

I lean back in my chair, too curious as to why exactly he has called to let him flounder for long. “I’m just wrapping up dinner with a friend.” It’s fairly vague; a friend could be male or female, romantic or not. He can draw whatever conclusion he wants. I glance at Holly, who gives me a questioning look.

“Oh, it’s nice that you can do that. Go out with friends.”

“Is there something I can help you with?”

He clears his throat. “Um, I’m real sorry for calling out of the blue, but I have a bit of an emergency.”

I’m back to being on alert. “What kind of emergency?”

“You get your period, right?”

“Excuse me?” This just got weird. Holly gives me the what the hell is happening? hand gesture. I hold up a finger. Not my middle one.

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck. That came out wrong. Emme just got hers, for the first time, and there was nothing in the house and I’m at the pharmacy but there’s, like, an entire aisle dedicated to this stuff. I don’t even know where to start. I need help and I didn’t know who else to go to, so I called you, and that was probably stupid.”

His panic is entertaining, so I feel justified in giving him a bit of a hard time. “So just to be clear, you’re calling me on Friday night for feminine hygiene product advice?”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Yes, I’m laughing at you.”

“Well, can you laugh at me and help me? Emme’s locked herself in her bathroom and she’s crying, and I don’t have the skill set or the reproductive organs to know how to deal with this.”

That sobers me. “She’s crying?”

“I guess it’s pretty traumatic? I mean, I don’t know. But yeah, she’s crying and I don’t know where to start, so some brand guidance or something would be helpful.”

I consider what it would be like to be a thirteen-year-old girl getting her period for the first time after just having lost her mother, and only having a brother to go to for help. No one wins in this situation. I can’t leave him to deal with this on his own.

“Which pharmacy did you go to?”

“The one at Ventura and Laurel Canyon. Do you know the layout?”

It’s pretty close. “Hold on a second.” I press the receiver to my chest. “Are you okay with ending dinner a little early?”

“So you can buy feminine hygiene products? Who is that?” Holly narrows her eyes. “Oh my God. Is that him?”

“I’ll make it up to you with brunch on Sunday.” I bring the phone back to my ear. “Can you hold on for ten minutes?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“I’m in the neighborhood. I can meet you there if you’d like.”

“Seriously?”

“Unless you want me to walk you through it over the phone.”

“No, no. I can wait. I’ll wait. I might not wait in this aisle in particular because I feel a little weird about standing here looking at pads and stuff, but I’ll be in the CVS. Thank you so much, Kailyn. I really owe you.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” I end the call and meet Holly’s not quite approving gaze. “What?”

She crosses her arms over her chest and arches a brow. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Daxton’s thirteen-year-old sister has her period for the first time and he needs some help. It’s a good opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what, exactly?”

“To earn his trust.”

“Is this about making partner? Come on, Kailyn, I know you better than that.”

“Do you remember the first time you got your period? Imagine how hard this is for both of them. And it’ll help me figure out whose best interests he really has in mind. I mean, he’s calling me because she got her period and not just sending her to the store on her own. That says something, doesn’t it?”

Holly sighs. “Just be careful you don’t get yourself in too deep with this one.”

“Her world just fell apart.”

“I know, but don’t make it your job to put it back together.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I don’t like how much that feels like a lie.

chapter ten

TAMPONOLOGY 101

Kailyn

True to his word, Daxton is in the store, basket in hand, hovering between the cold and flu medication aisle and the sanitary napkins.

As soon as he spots me, he rushes over and hugs me, catching me off guard. Again. He and Emme sure do like to hug. I wonder if he’s going to do this every time he sees me. As I pat him awkwardly on the back, I consider how that might not be a terrible thing. He’s just so tall, and broad and muscular, but not in an overly bulky way. He’s lean and toned, rather than hulking scary. And he smells good. Too good. I take a step back.

“Thank you so much for coming. I really, really owe you, Kailyn. I’m beyond grateful.”

I glance at the contents of his basket. He has chips and chocolate bars in there, a decent start on the unhealthy snack food frontier. I grab for the box that most certainly does not belong and hold it up. “What’s this for?”

He blinks at me, eyes wide and slightly afraid. “They looked sturdy, and like they’d catch everything.”

“Sure, if you’re buying incontinence products for your grandmother.” I slap them against his chest and grab his elbow. “Follow me.”

He doesn’t have a choice but to come along, since I’m pretty much digging my nails into his arm. It’s a nice arm. Very firm. I need to stop noticing these things. We make a pit stop at the I-can-no-longer-do-jumping-jacks-withoutpeeing-my-pants section and return the box before I lead Daxton to the aisle with the right products.

I sweep a hand out. “Welcome to the Aisle of Red.”

He glances at me, frowning. “That’s awful.”

“You have absolutely no idea.” I tap my lip and survey the selection. “She’ll need a box of these for the last couple of days.” I toss in some light days. “And she’ll need these for heavier flow.” Dax cringes, possibly at my terminology. I roll my eyes and stop in front of the midflow ones.

“What the hell are these?” Dax taps a box of triangular-shaped black pads.