Page 8 of Catch


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Chapter 6Maren“Three hundred,” I say quietly. “You said hell.”

Keats laughs. “I have to think before I open my mouth around you. If I don’t, I’m going to end up broke.”

The anxiety I felt when I stepped off the elevator is slipping away, but it’s still lingering.

“Every other person I’ve fired was for just cause,” Keats says as though he’s reading my mind. “They all left with a severance package that was more than fair.”

I don’t expect him to go into details. I’m surprised he was so candid about Jamie’s dismissal.

I don’t see this job as the end game of my career, but I want it to last at least until I can find something suitable in public relations.

“Can I ask you a question, Maren?”

I glance across the desk at him. “Sure.”

“How the heck did you wind up here with Dudley yesterday?”

I point at the phone in my hand. “After I found him, I snapped a picture and posted it on a Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan.”

Leaning back in his chair, he narrows his eyes. “Who responded?”

Who didn’t?

I fight the urge to say that because I’m not a saint either. I’m going to work for the man, not be in charge of his social calendar. Who he sleeps with isn’t my business.

I choose my next words carefully. “The post was shared more than fifty times. I received messages from a few of your friends.”

“A few of my friends?” he repeats my words with a furrowed brow. “Like who?”

Does he expect me to rattle off the names of all the women who responded to my posting about Dudley?

I pat my hand against my thigh. “I can’t recall their names, but I’m glad they got in touch. I was worried that since Dudley wasn’t wearing a collar, I wouldn’t find his owner.”

“Sinclair would have given me supreme shit if I lost her dog.”

“That’s another hundred,” I tell him before I ask for clarification. “Sinclair is your sister?”

Tilting his head, he smiles. “Another hundred added to the fund, and yes, Sinclair is my globe-trotting sister.”

That begs the question of whether he has another sister, but his family situation has no bearing on my job, so I skip past that and mention mine. “My cousin is a vet. I dropped in to visit him at work one day. I had to wait to see him because he was implanting a microchip into a dog.”

“What the hell is that?”

“That’s five hundred total since I sat down.” I smile. “The chip contains all the owner’s information so that any animal shelter or vet can use a special reader to access that information if a lost pet is brought in.”

“Holy...he…helpful device,” Keats stutters out. “Dud needs one of those.”

“I can arrange for that,” I offer before I realize the words have left my mouth. “If you want, that is. Or if your sister is alright with it.”

“Sinclair will love it,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d appreciate it if you set that up.”

Nodding, I make a note in my phone to call Donovan. “I’ll get in touch with my cousin and move forward with it.”

“Are you ready to move forward with the job?”

My head darts up until my eyes lock on Keats’s face. “I think so.”

“Once you sign the contract, you’ll officially be my assistant.” He points at the envelope in my lap. “Can you start on Monday?”

Since today is Friday that gives me the weekend to ready myself for what I’m sure will be the most interesting job I’ve ever had.

“I’ll start on Monday.”

“Let’s head over to Everett’s office.” Keats pushes back to stand. “He’s the head of our HR department. He’ll get you set up for payroll and everything else you need.”

I need to know that I’m making the right decision, but I sense only time will tell me that.

As I glide to my feet, Keats moves to stand next to me. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Maren.”

All I offer back is a smile because something tells me that being his assistant will have more twists and turns than a roller coaster ride.Chapter 7KeatsI swing open the door of my townhouse to find my favorite person in the world. Next to her is my brother.

“Stevie!” I hold out my arms, waiting for my niece to make the jump into them.

She doesn’t let me down. She may be getting taller by the month, but our method of greeting one another hasn’t changed since she learned how to walk.

I’m aware that there may well be a day that she won’t want to hug me, so I take advantage of it now while it’s still happening.

“How was Boston?” I look over her head at my brother, Berk.

“Fine.” He rubs at the scruff that covers his jaw.

Fine means it was fucked up. I know his code words by now. He’s taken on the role of sole parent to Stevie since his wife, Layna, passed away.

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