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“Lacrosse.”
‘Lacrosse player’ rolled off the tongue a lot easier than ‘sex addicted son of family medicine doctors.’ And, to his credit, it was the truth.
Kenna shuffled her feet and her boot collided with his dress shoe. An unspoken apology came in the fluttering of her lashes from her glass to him and back down again. He couldn’t tell if his extra beats per minute were a precursor to an alcohol-induced arrhythmia or a side effect of her company.
For weeks Dayton had observed his delicate flower from afar and here she was, within reach. However shy she may have been in some of their interactions, he felt her petals loosening, blooming, becoming more receptive to him. Kenna leaned into the table, toward him, as if he were the sun.
How he wished he had light to give her.
“Lacrosse? Were you any good?”
“I must have been alright. I made team captain junior year.” Dullness invaded his chest. “But I had to quit.”
She traced the base of her wine glass, glancing between him and the tabletop. “Would that have anything to do with why you were in the hospital?”
“Turned my life upside down for a bit. I wanted to play in college. I almost tried out, but I know if I had, my mom would’ve driven all the way to L.A. to beat my ass.” Dayton laughed, polishing off his vodka.
Kenna wasn’t laughing.
Neck tensing, she whispered, “Are you sick?”
“What do you care?” he fired back with more venom than he’d intended. “No, I’m not sick. Not exactly.”
“What do I care? I spent three days with you in the hospital. I barely left your side. Call me crazy, Dayton, but after something like that, I think it’s only human that I’d care about you.”
“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t care about me beyond kissing up to me at the office. It’s unwise.”
Kenna clasped her hands on the table, a chess master declaring checkmate. “Then why are you knocking back drinks with me on a Saturday night?”
Her tone was even, confident.
She deserved a response that was even, confident.
“Because maybe I care just a little bit, too.”
21
INTERVENE
Monday morning had them stumbling through awkward hoops as they attempted to reacquaint themselves with the roles that Dayton continually hoped would, by some merciful accident, be rendered null and void.
March had nearly run its course. Final exams were slated for the first week of May.
A month.
That was all the time Dayton had left to add Kenna to his box before he was on to his next subject.
The amount of alcohol he’d consumed during their outing had taken him to dark places and he considered that, for the first time, his game of seduction may end in failure.
She’d go on with her life and he would be relegated to his office awaiting the arrival of a suitable replacement ‘K’ all the while pretending that the stunning prospect of Kenna O’Callaghan had never existed.
Her intelligence was likely the saving grace keeping her at arm’s length from a volatile affair.
Dayton observed that instinctive reservation in her deliberate, languid shimmying out of her thin coat as she trained her eyes elsewhere, like one look at him might be enough to sully her life.
Expression stony, he unlocked the filing cabinet and retrieved four blue folders. “We have appointments at 7:15, 8:15, 9:15, and 10:15. You can hang the walk-in sign after we clear the last session.” He used more muscle than necessary to shut the cabinet with the aim of startling Kenna into sparing him a glance. “Busy morning.”
Her eyes burned him like a summer sun.
