Her hair is perfectly straight and she’s wearing a pair of patterned leggings, a poufy black skirt, and an off-the-shoulder shirt that shows an inch or two of midriff. I want to make her go back upstairs and change. “You look great!” I choke out. “Can I take a picture and send it to Kailyn?”

She waves me off. “I already sent her a selfie. She said I looked great, but she’s a girl and she either dresses really formal but, like, pretty, but business-y, or she wears funky jeans and shirts from your show, so I wanted to make sure.” She blows out a breath. “Can we go? I told the girls we’d be there before seven and we’re kinda cutting it close, right?” She says this like it’s my fault. I’ve been ready for the past fifteen minutes.

As soon as we’re in the car, her phone starts going off. Boys’ names flash across her screen: Clark, Liam, Jimmy.

I need to have the boy talk with my little sister. I remember being in eighth grade, not quite sure what to do with my hormones yet, or girls, but still a little interested. “What’s going on there?”

Emme flips her phone over in her lap. “Oh, nothing.”

“You have boys texting you now?”

She sighs, as if she’s annoyed. “They all want to dance with me or something. I don’t know, it’s dumb. They stand on the other side of the gym and, like, wait for us to ask ’cause they’re all too chicken or whatever.”

“I just want to make sure you know that you can say no. Boys your age aren’t very mature, and sometimes they might do things that make you uncomfortable—”

“Oh my God, Dax! You are not trying to have the sex talk with me, are you?”

“You’re too young to have sex.”

“Um, ew. I know! Look, you can save us both the awkwardness. I already know all the technical stuff from the human anatomy and health class, and Kailyn and I have already talked all about this stuff.”

“Kailyn talked to you about sex?” When the hell did that happen, and why didn’t she ever say anything about it to me?

“Not like details or anything, just, like, the basics and how it’s my body and it’s special. Or something like that. She said it a lot better.” Emme’s cheeks are flaming and her eyes are on her lap.

I guess I’ll have to thank Kailyn for having the conversation with her. “Huh” is my stellar reply.

“Anyway, you don’t have to freak out, or worry, or anything. I’m not interested in, like, dating or anything. I’ve already had my first kiss and it was gross.”

“You what?” I can almost feel hairs turning gray.

“It was at the beginning of the school year. Chris Becker asked me to go steady and I said yes even though I wasn’t so sure I liked him like that. But then he kissed me and I was like no way ’cause he tried to put his tongue in my mouth.”

I’m white knuckling the steering wheel, and I have to clear my throat before I ask the next question. “What did you do?”

“I pushed him and he fell into a mud puddle. I told him not to talk to me anymore. Boys are weird.”

“Yes they are. I hope you feel like that about them until you’re at least twenty-five.”

“We’re down from thirty, so that’s an improvement,” Emme mutters snarkily.

I have a feeling the next few years might give me an ulcer if this is just the beginning. I pull into the driveway of her friend’s house. It’s a nice place in a good neighborhood—I looked it up in advance.

There’s a flurry of activity at the front door. Emme gets dragged upstairs to get rid of her bag but her backpack stays at the front door—I’m assuming makeup and hair stuff is in there. Lord knows she checked her reflection a million times on the way here. Her friends giggle and titter near the door, and Ainsley’s mom, Adele, fawns over me in a slightly awkward way.

Ten minutes later I’m in a car with four very loud girls who smell like they took a swim in a lake of cheap perfume. Emme blasts the music in the front seat and they all try to scream over it to hear each other. When the chorus comes on, they sing together completely out of tune, except Emme—her voice is eerily on key. I have no idea how teachers manage a whole class full of this.

I pull up to the school and the girls’ tittering grows louder. “Oh my God, Emme, look, Liam is waiting for you! Who’s with him? Oh! Oh! That’s Clark and Jackson and River.”

“Who the hell named these kids?” I mutter.

“Your name is Daxton,” Emme points out.

“But River? After the dead actor?”

“Who?” Emme asks. When I open my mouth to explain, she waves her hand around. “It doesn’t matter. Okay! Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hughes!” comes from the back seat as the doors open and the girls all pile out of the car.

Mr. Hughes? What the hell? The gaggle of girls meet up with the group of boys. They stand awkwardly with their hands shoved in their pockets, the girls looking over their shoulder at my car before they head into the school. I remind myself that it’s a school dance, chaperoned by teachers, and nothing bad can happen.

I call Kailyn on speakerphone to let her know I’m on the way to pick her up.

“How was dance drop-off?”

“I have no idea how fathers do this. Between the makeup, the screeching, the perfume, and the boys, I’m surprised any parent survives this. And did you know Emme’s already had her first kiss?”

Kailyn laughs. “You were probably the same age when you had your first kiss.”

“My first kiss was on a set in front of a camera crew, and it was not awesome. My costar had just finished eating a Big Mac and didn’t think brushing her teeth was necessary after extra onions.” I slap the steering wheel. “That’s what I should’ve done! I should’ve fed Emme garlic and onions for dinner.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s a school dance. There’s nowhere for them to hide and make out.”

“I hope not, or I’m going to spend a few years in prison. Oh, and thanks for letting me know you’d had the sex talk with Emme.”

“I told her she was special and all of her firsts should be with someone who cares about her.”

“Oh, well, that was a lot better than what I would’ve said, and it’s a little disturbing that you’ve already had that talk with her and she’s only in eighth grade.”

“There are a couple of girls in her class who have had sex already.”

“Please don’t tell me things like this when I’ve just left her in a gym full of hormonal boys.”

“She’s not interested. You’re safe. For now.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I am. I’ll have a beer waiting for you when you get here to offset the anxiety.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

“I might need something stronger.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Less than ten minutes later I pull into Kailyn’s driveway. It’s not too far from my place, but in a more modest subdivision. She lives in a bungalow with pretty flowers lining the front walk. Everything is neat and well maintained, as I’d expect from her. Her cats eye me suspiciously from the windowsill inside the house.

The anxiety over Emme and the dance is forgotten as soon as the door swings open. Kailyn is wearing a very sexy royal-blue dress that hugs every single one of her very lush, very hot curves. She’s barefoot on the hardwood floor. She holds out a wineglass. “Sadly wine is the strongest thing I have.”

“This right here is the ultimate in archaically sexist male fantasies.” What I wouldn’t give to be greeted every damn day of my life by this exact sight.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing. Thank you. You look incredible and I care about you and I think you’re very special.” I pluck the glass from her hand and set it on the side table so her hands are free and I can kiss her. “I also think it would be a very good idea to call the restaurant and push our reservation back so I can show you exactly how special I think you are.”

Kailyn grins against my lips. “Don’t think you can manage making it through dinner before you see what kind of panties I’m wearing?”

“Are they cheekies?”

She laces her fingers through mine. “Why don’t you come upstairs and find out.”

chapter nineteen

DINNER DATE DISASTER

Kailyn

Dax does a very thorough job of showing me exactly how special he thinks I am. We don’t leave for the restaurant until almost nine. My hair is a little wild from his hands having been in it, but he’s much more relaxed and I’m feeling pretty damn fantastic myself.

He takes me to a lovely, very exclusive restaurant that I would never be able to afford. We talk about my pro bono case and how excited I am that it looks like this little boy will have a permanent home soon. I love Dax’s attentiveness and enthusiasm for the things I’m passionate about. He makes me feel like I’m the only person in the room when we’re together like this. Despite the attention he sometimes gets, I never have to fight for his. As difficult as the road ahead of us may be, I can see a future unfolding with him.

We’re halfway through our meal when he gets a call from Ainsley’s mother. I assume it’s to let him know they’re home from the dance. At least until his expression becomes incredulous.

“They got caught with what? Where did they get it? Emme? Are you sure? We’re on our way. No. No. I’m so sorry. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

He throws his napkin on the table and shoves his chair back.