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The granny panties were a solid strategy, but the second she opened her front door to find Keaton on her doorstep, August knew she had vastly underestimated how strong the man’s pull on her was. Whatever feelings she’d banished when it came to her best friend’s older brother, they were simply lurking in the background. And ushering him into her place while he was wearing a white T-shirt that clung delectably to his muscular shoulders and arms, while a pair of dark denim jeans rode low on his hips, dragged all those unwanted feelings back into the spotlight.
Shereallyneeded to get over Keaton Sax. Stat.
For a moment, she felt self-conscious about her apartment being so kitschy and homey. Her bright blue couch was decorated with throw cushions featuring animal faces and a blanket patterned with black paw prints. She had half a dozen succulents dotted around the room, all in pottery that was some shade of pink, a pile of romance novels teetering on the coffee table and a baby blue mug that said “thick thighs and pretty eyes”—a gift from one of the girls in her book club.
Keaton’s place was probably all chrome and white and glass. Not that she would know, because she’d never seen it.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” she asked, motioning for Keaton to hang his jacket by the front door.
“Can’t a friend invite themselves over to enjoy a meal?” he asked, his smile sharp-edged.
“We’re not friends. We’re acquaintances joined by a mutual thread.”
He pressed a hand to his chest, but the smile didn’t fade. “You wound me.”
“What do you want, Keaton?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because I can’t remember the last time we saw each other on purpose. And it seems rather odd timing that this invite comes after we bump into one another at a restaurant and you tell me my date is a bad guy.”
“You think I’m here so I can keep bad-mouthing Asher Benson?” Keaton snorted. “Please. I have far better things to do than waste any breath on that asshole.”
August bristled. So far, from what she’d seen, Asher was far from being an asshole. He was smart, funny, charming, a total gentleman. Sure, if she was being one hundred percent honest—in a way she only ever could be in her own head—there weren’t exactly major sparks between them. He was a little...polished. A little preppy.
And yes, there had been a teeny tiny littlewhomp whompnoise in the back of her head when they’d shared a kiss after the last date.
But that didn’t matter, because she enjoyed Asher’s company and he seemed genuinely interested in who she was as a person. Chemistry was not on the checklist. And the dates had gone smoothly—not a viral incident to speak of—and he was attentive and generous. They already had a third date lined up for tomorrow and it would have been sooner if not for their busy work schedules. What more could she ask for? Fireworks and tingles, perhaps?
Those could quite possibly come later, once they’d gotten physical. Maybe the sparks wouldn’t fly until they took the next step. That was totally plausible, right?
“Then why did you come?” she asked. “And I’m sorry, but I don’t buy the friend thing.”
Keaton pulled out a bottle of wine from the canvas bag he’d carried with him—sauvignon blanc from New Zealand, August’s favorite—and held it up in question. She nodded and retrieved two stemmed glasses from the kitchen. That’s when she noticed he was holding the take-out menu for one of her most beloved little restaurants. Keaton was old-school and liked to have a paper menu, rather than ordering on Uber Eats, which August thought was a funny quirk.
But this was also a red flag. The request out of the blue, her favorite wineandher favorite food...he wanted something.
Going to skip right over the fact that he knows all of your favorite things, huh?
Yep. Because that would make her think about even more things that didn’t deserve space in her brain, like how despite trying his hardest to act like a jerk, Keaton was actually one of the most kind and generous people she knew.
“So...” he said eventually, opening the wine when she placed two glasses on the countertop. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Ahh. There it is.”
He shot her a disarming smile and held his glass up to hers, and she couldn’t resist clinking. The sound echoed through the quiet apartment and she was suddenly aware of how she’d never been alone with him before, aside from that fateful night. Most times when she saw Keaton, it was at Leah’s house, formerly their family home.
But this felt different.
“So, Leah entered Molly into some silly competition thing,” he said as he poured the wine.
“Yeah, the one being run by Paws in the City. I know all about it.”
Isla and Scout were holding a contest to sign on a client who otherwise might not have a big enough social following to be considered, but the whole thing was being filmed as part of thePut Your Best PawForwarddocumentary. The filmmakers were following three different animal-based businesses for a month each, and apparently they had some big streaming service signed on. It was going to be ahugeopportunity for Isla’s agency, and the competition would make for some great television.
“I figured you would probably know something about it,” Keaton said.
“The woman who runs the agency is a friend of mine.” August nodded, pausing to sip her wine. It was delicious. “It’s somewhere upstate, right?”
“That’s right.”
August had originally offered to help Isla and Scout, and Isla had wanted her there as a groomer for the contestants. Unfortunately, however, the producer’s niece wasalsoa dog groomer and was one of the other businesses being featured in the documentary. It had been made clear that no other groomers would be involved, since they didn’t want them outshining the niece. Shame. It would have been excellent promotion. But Isla had already felt terrible enough about not being able to include her, and August didn’t want to make her feel worse.
