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I’m starting to believe him.
Skimming my gaze over the pictures, I smile at what I see. There are two pictures of the Newmans at their wedding twenty-five-years ago. They’re smiling brightly at the camera as they cut a cake similar to the one on the table. The other picture is of the two of them dancing.
Several photographs of Fletcher are there as well.
I sigh when I notice that he’s dressed in a baseball uniform in every picture. In one, he’s missing his two front teeth as he holds a small baseball bat at the ready. In another, braces cover all of his teeth. He’s taller in that one. I’d guess he’s ten or eleven years old. The last photo of him must have been taken recently. There’s a determined look on his face as he stands with his hands on his hip, dressed in a baseball uniform with a cap slightly askew on his head.
Keats calls out when he sees Fletcher approaching us. “Hey, Fletcher. How are you?”
“Keats.” He lifts a hand in greeting. “It’s good to see you. Maren, you too. I can’t thank you enough for this getup.”
“You look fantastic.” I round Keats to go to Fletcher. “They did a great job with the fit.”
“Woah.” Keats steps in place next to me. ‘Tell me what I’m missing.”
I give the floor to Fletcher because I can see he wants to say something.
“A couple of days ago, I was looking for you at your office.” His gaze drops to the polished black shoes on his feet. “I thought it would be good to rent a tux for tonight. Maren took care of all of it. She even paid for it.”
Keats looks at me. “She’s amazing.”
I can’t hold back a smile. “I knew a guy who knew a guy.”
Both men laugh.
Fletcher points his finger to the left. “My folks are here. It’s time for a beer.”
I glance at the bar. “Keats, you should join him.”
Keats nods at me knowingly. “I’ll bring you back a glass of wine.”
“I’d like that.” I turn back to Fletcher. “Enjoy that beer, Fletcher.”
“You know I will.” He chuckles. “I’ll savor every last drop.”***Two hours later, I’m staring at the lights of midtown Manhattan. I’ve taken a handful of pictures and sent them to Arietta. When she texted me back to thank me, she told me the views look breathtaking.
They are. Not one is more impressive than Keats, though.
He’s a beautiful man.
I feel him as he inches up next to me. “A hundred for your thoughts.”
“That’s a penny.” I laugh.
“Your thoughts are worth more than anyone else’s.”
I almost reach up to grab my chest to stop my heart from beating so hard.
“Are you having fun?” he questions.
“I am,” I admit.
We weren’t seated near the Newmans during dinner, but we did get into a spirited discussion about baseball with one of Fletcher’s uncles.
Keats did most of the talking, but I stepped in to shut the overly confident uncle down when I corrected him on the stats he was spewing out about his favorite player.
His eyes widened almost as large as Keats.
Since the other player is a client of my boss, I knew his record. I’ve spent a lot of time this past week studying our clients.
Our clients.
Our.
I like the sound of that.
“We should take a stab at some time with the happy couple.” Keats gestures to where the Newmans are standing with two people.
“Let’s give them a few more minutes to finish that conversation.”
Keats nods. “That’s extra time with our future client.”
I glance over his shoulder to see Fletcher on the approach. “How did you know he was coming our way?”
“Intuition.”
I look behind me and find a large mirror in a gold frame. “You’re good.”
Keats leans closer, dropping his voice to a low tone. “You have no fucking idea.”
Desire pulses through me. It’s not just from the words. It’s from the proximity of his body to mine. I stare into his eyes, wanting to tell him that I need to know. I have to know what it’s like to kiss him, to touch him. I want to be in his bed.
“You swore,” I manage to say.
He perks a brow as his gaze drops to my lips.
“Keats.” Fletcher slaps him on the shoulder. “Look at this view, man.”
Keats keeps his eyes trained on my face. “I am. It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?”Chapter 34KeatsI’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to kiss Maren Weber right now.
I’d trade a lifetime of deals with every elite athlete on the planet for a taste of her ruby red lips.
Her eyelids flutter shut as I breathe a path over her neck before I turn my attention to Fletcher because the kid’s fingers are tap-dancing over my shoulder.
“Your folks are damn lucky to have a son like you.” I lay the praise on thick because I want out of here and into Maren’s bed.
