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“Sure. I don’t think it’d even cost that much to put together or run.”
“We should start a charity,” Poppy said. “We can throw fundraisers, make a website. Get local businesses involved.”
“You’re going to need a lawyer too,” Grant noted. “Think Evan would help?”
Poppy flushed at the mention of her crush, who barely knew she existed. “I know he would. It’s not going to be easy. Mitchell will never approve.”
“Luckily you just need city council to back you up,” Grant said.
The females in the room laughed.
Jo smoothed his shirt, patted his chest. “Oh, honey. Every single one of them is in Mitchell’s pocket. But we have our ways to get things done around here. Don’t you worry.”
“How could I worry? I’ve witnessed you three get things done around here firsthand.”
Poppy had fluttered to the breakfast table and was writing furiously on a notepad. “We’re going to need a lot of help, including construction. Think Keaton will be interested?”
My cheeks went hot, the temperature rising when my sisters’ gazes fell on me. Grant looked at me, then at them, confused.
“Why are all y’all lookin’ at me?” I asked.
“Gotta delegate,” Poppy said with a sly smile on her face. “I’ll head up the whole project. Jo and Grant—you two handle outreach and fundraising. I bet Presley and Sebastian will help too, if we ask nice,” she mused. “And Daisy, you’re the head of operations. Including overseeing construction.”
“Well, now, hang on a second—”
“Someone has to do it,” she insisted like an asshole. “Don’t you think Grant and Jo are better handling the money stuff, since it’s Grant’s money after all?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And I’m the one who should probably run the whole situation? You don’t want to do it, do you?”
“No, but—”
“Then it’s settled,” she said as she stood. “On Monday, go find out if Keaton is interested, and we’ll take it from there.”
“Did we just start a charity?” Jo mused.
“I think maybe we did,” Poppy answered with a smile.
But all I could think about was the proximity I might be to Keaton, and if it was possible to survive the endeavor.
Somehow, I figured it wasn’t.
7
DAMNED IF YOU DO
KEATON
I scrubbed a hand across my mouth, the rasp of my beard the only sound in my office at our business. On the other side of the door, far, far away, I heard the happy voices of my brothers going about their business, as usual. In here, I was alone with invoices I couldn’t pay.
The most urgent were the few I’d begged extensions for. But the money I’d planned to use to settle our bills had gone straight to repairing and maintaining some of our larger equipment and to pay the new hires. I’d moved some money around laterally—there wasn’t enough to make a dent. All I could do was spread it around, like trying to cover up my meat with mashed potatoes so I could get dessert.
I’d never had to touch the trust twice in this short a time frame. My stomach turned at the realization.
A knock rapped before my office door opened, and I coolly closed my laptop with my heart in my throat, hoping I didn’t look suspicious to Millie. But she was too giddy about whatever she was here for to notice.
My face quirked as I assessed her rosy cheeks, her pursed but smiling lips, her sparkling eyes.
“Keaton, I have Daisy Blum here to see you, if you have a moment.
My heart, which was still lodged in my throat, doubled in size, nearly choking me. But I didn’t miss a beat.
“Sure, send her in. Thanks, Millie.”
Millie opened the door the rest of the way and moved out of the way. And for a brief moment, time stretched out into a thin line that connected Daisy to me.
Her face was turned to Millie, looking at her elder with eyes full of kindness and a smile so honest, so gentle, it hit me in the gut. Her dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, her bangs brushing dark eyebrows and curling tendrils licking her jaw. My eyes followed the long line of her neck, the curve of her shoulders, down to her waist where the shell-pink fabric of her top was tucked into the band of a rosy polkadot skirt, the fabric shifting as she walked, the hem swaying.
Our eyes met.
I only noticed the flare of color in her cheeks and the plump bow of her smile in my periphery. All I really saw were her eyes, the color of endless sky, soft with hope and sparkling with wit, framed by fans of jet-black lashes. They were eyes to fly away in, to drown in, so lose oneself, forever lost to the siren’s call.
When caught by those bewitching eyes, I didn’t believe there could be any escape.
Millie bounced her way out, closing the door behind her, and the room shrank by half.
