Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“We’ll hit up a club,” Pace says, ignoring the fact that I opted out. “I’ll get a few of the guys together, Keats.”
I breathe a sigh of relief because the last time I went to a club was six months ago with Arietta. We left without any men but with a bunch of memories of cheesy pickup lines.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come, Maren?” Keats questions.
I glance at him. “I’m busy, but thanks for the invite.”
Keats bites the corner of his bottom lip. I can tell he’s curious about my plans, but before he can push for more details, Pace clears his throat.
“The deal you secured for me is stellar, Keats.” He bows his chin. “When I fucked up my shoulder, I thought baseball was in my rearview mirror.”
I hear the gratitude in his tone.
“It’ll never be behind you.” Keats laughs as he picks up the cup in front of him. “Kill it as a commentator, Pace, and in two years, I’ll secure you a deal that’s even sweeter than the one you just signed.”
Some people might mistake Keats’s declaration as arrogant, but it’s based in confidence.
I saw his client list. I don’t know much about sports, but I did an online search of every athlete he represents and it’s impressive.
“I know that you’re taking your cut from the deal.” Pace leans back in his chair. “But, if there’s anything else I can do for you, tell me.”
Keats pushes his cup to the side. “There’s one thing I want.”
“Name it,” Pace blurts out without hesitation.
“Get me one-on-one time with Fletcher Newman.”
A belly laugh escapes Pace. “You want to talk to the boy wonder? What the fuck makes you think I have any pull with him?”
I look to my boss to explain who Fletcher Newman is, but he’s focused on Pace.
“In every interview the kid does, he brings you up.” Keats taps his fingers on the table. “Have you not watched any of those?”
“I don’t watch college ball games.” Pace laughs. “I heard he was an up and comer from some of the guys on the team. That’s all I know about Newman.”
“In his eyes, you’re the best pitcher in the history of the sport.” Keats rests his elbows on the table. “I want face time with him, Pace. I need to represent him.”
Pace sips from his cup. “So, what’s the plan? What do you want me to do?”
Just as Keats is about to reply, my phone starts up on a ring in my purse. I meant to silence it during the walk here from the office, but it slipped my mind.
I was distracted after getting a glimpse of Keats’s ass in the black pants he’s wearing when he bent down to help a woman who had dropped her MetroCard on the sidewalk.
He might have the most perfect ass I’ve ever seen on a man.
Both men watch avidly as I reach in my bag for my phone. I see Arietta’s name dancing across the screen. I know what she wants. She’s looking to pin down a location for us to meet for lunch, but I’m going to suggest we go out for dinner instead.
“I need to take off.” Pace pushes back from the table. “Come outside with me, Keats. Tell me what I need to do to get you a meeting with Fletcher.”
Keats follows his lead and rises to his feet. “I’ll see you outside when you’re done, Maren?”
“I’ll be there,” I say with an over-exuberant nod. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“It was good to meet you.” Pace flashes me a wicked smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“Until then,” I toss back.
Swiping my hand over the phone to connect the call, I watch Pace and Keats exit the café. Damn, my boss looks just as good walking away as he does when he’s on the approach.
He turns his head to glance over his shoulder, so I drop my gaze.
“Hey, Arietta,” I say into the phone.
“If I’m interrupting something important, tell me,” she whispers.
I was just staring at my boss’s ass.
I keep that to myself. “I can talk for a couple of minutes. Can we do dinner instead of lunch?”
“That works for me. How is your first day so far?”
I glance out the café window to where Keats and Pace are standing. Keats grins when he catches my eye.
“So far so good,” I say as my heart races.
“Maybe your future is with Keats Morgan, after all.”
I laugh off her words. “I’ve worked with him for two hours. He’s not my forever, Arietta.”
“You don’t know that,” she lowers her voice. “Give it time, Maren. You might be exactly where you were always meant to be.”
Chapter 11
Maren
The office is eerily quiet when I arrive for my second day of work. I stopped on my way to pick up a coffee, and by the example set forth by my generous father, Tim Weber, I bought a coffee for Ripley too.