“I get that. And I grant you that I’m removed from the situation, so I don’t exactly understand the betrayal you felt. What I am sure of? If you try to make him feel the hurt you’ve suffered, you’ll be no better. Take the moral high ground. I don’t know you well, but I believe your grandfather. You’re a man of honor, even if you don’t know it yet.”
She did not just say that. Yes, damn it, she did. “It’s not that simple. This shit eats at me every day.”
“Stop letting it.”
I grab my wineglass and lean in, teeth clenched. “What would you do to get back at the pot-smoking ex who ran out on you? How far would you—”
“I wouldn’t. I refuse to give him that much of my energy. But losing the deadbeat dragging me down didn’t have the same impact as your brother. I didn’t love Tim.”
And I’d loved Griff. I sigh. “I can’t just let it go.”
“Then…I’m not sure we have a reason to see each other anymore.” She looks sad at that prospect.
I feel fucking wiped. “Not even to date?”
“Do you really date? You don’t make time for the ocean that’s literally in your backyard. You’re preoccupied with business and one-upmanship. I can’t imagine you actually have time for me.”
When she stands, I feel my guts drop to my toes. I hop to my feet. “Don’t go, Keeley. What about the money I offered you? That’s got to mean something.”
She shakes her head. “I would never sacrifice my conscience to line my wallet.”
Without meaning to, I’ve insulted her again. “I can’t say the right thing here…”
“You can. You just don’t want to. You’re not ready yet. I’d offer to listen if you wanted to purge your feelings or guide you through some meditation meant to reduce anger—”
I snort. I don’t mean to. It just slips out.
A sad smile lifts her lips. “That’s what I thought, so I didn’t offer.”
“I want to see you again, Keeley. I like you.” I swallow. “A lot.”
That’s a pretty big admission for me. I can usually say I like a hookup’s tits. I might even say I like her laugh or her eyes or whatever. But I feel like I know Keeley in a way I probably shouldn’t after so little time together. And what I do know, I’m enamored with.
“Somehow…I really like you, too. I wish things could have been different.” Her blue eyes fill with regret as she tries to sidle past me for the door.
Of their own free will, my fingers wrap around her wrist. “Don’t walk out on me, too.”
I can’t say precisely why I’m… What’s the word I’m looking for? I search my mental thesaurus and can only come up with one: begging. Sadly, that’s accurate. I have a sneaking suspicion my urge to have her near has less to do with repaying Griff and more to do with my desire.
“I need to go,” she murmurs. “Give me your number. I’ll…think about it.”
With most anyone else, I’d call bullshit. But Keeley has never been less than mindful and ethical and wonderful.
I hand her a business card. My cell is listed on the front. She takes it without a word. Instead, she kisses my cheek, gives me one last look of regret, then shoulders her way past me and out the door.
My head tells me that, Griff aside, it’s for the best. As Keeley pointed out, I don’t have time for romance. I don’t need someone so sentimental they overlook the practical. The chemistry between us would probably fizzle out in another night or two anyway.
So why do I feel as if letting her go might be the biggest mistake of my life?
CHAPTER FIVE
Three long days drag by. I feel like I’m standing in slow motion while everyone is running in fast-forward around me. Rob and Britta are putting together amazing materials to wow the Stowe heirs. Dazzling marketing videos, brokerage tour concepts, and high-dollar-buyer party suggestions. Even a fucking slogan. They are brilliant, thank God.
My brain is stuck.
I’m going through the motions, wishing I could force myself to get my head in the game. I look at my phone again for the umpteenth time today. Not that I expect anything different, but Keeley still hasn’t called.
She’s gone.
I could track her down…but she has my number. If she wants me to find her, she’d tell me where to look. I feel antsy because I haven’t talked to her since the weekend. I even called Gus, the guy who owns the lousy sports bar. He couldn’t say if or when Keeley would be singing again. When we spoke, he sounded disappointed, too.
“You okay, buddy?” Rob asks, briefcase in hand.
I glance at the clock. Is it really six fifteen? “Yeah. Have a good one.”
“Will do.” He hesitates, then looks over at Britta, still huddled over her desk in the far corner. “She all right?”
Britta grilled me about why Keeley was answering my phone the other morning. I couldn’t tell Griff’s ex that I’d hatched a grand plan to make sure my brother caught a giant case of lust for the woman I put in his path. Britta would see that as a betrayal, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Instead, I told her that Keeley and I had been triaging my old family wounds. Not surprisingly, Britta seemed skeptical of a lounge singer in a cheetah dress giving me life coaching.
“I think. You know Britta.”
“Still touchy sometimes. What about you?”
Have I been acting weepy or something? “Me? Sure.”
Rob rolls his eyes. “Listen, I know I’m the last person who should give you romantic advice…”
“Um, yeah.”
My marketing manager is pushing forty and has never come close to marriage. Until recently, he’s always loved them and left them, then somehow convinced them to come back again so he can screw them once last time before casting them off for good. He makes me look like the poster boy for consideration and sensitivity.
“Ha!” Rob rolls his eyes. “I’m going to give you advice. Get laid. You’ve let this chick mess with your head. Move on. Find another pussy you like.” He shrugs. “It usually works for me.”
It would be a waste of my breath to point out that he’s practically living with Alania, a mortgage broker he met four months ago. I don’t expect it will take him much longer to realize that in terms of prowling like a bad boy, she’s moved him into the “former” column.