Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,30
where the fuck did it come from?
“If there’s a bottle of orange juice, I’ll take that,” Earl says. “Fletcher, do you want a soda?”
“I’ve been craving one.” He takes another look at the window.
“I’ll grab those for you,” Maren says before she shoots me a glance over her shoulder. “Anything for you, Keats?”
I shake my head because I’m too stunned to say anything.
She has to be the one who is responsible for this. Who knew assorted beverages could make people this happy?
I rarely meet clients here, so the extent of my offerings is slim. I’m glad she thought far enough ahead to anticipate this.
“I do have to leave shortly.” Maren sighs, and goddammit, even I believe her disappointment is legitimate. “I’m glad I had the chance to meet you, Patrika.”
Patrika’s lips fall into a frown. “Why are you leaving?”
“It’s a work matter,” I interject. “Maren is needed elsewhere.”
“We need here her.” Patrika tugs at Maren’s arm. “I thought we’d have more time to get to know each other.”
This isn’t a goddamn blind date.
“Maybe another time,” Maren says politely as she inches toward my office door.
Patrika glares at Earl. I know that look. I saw my mother direct it my father’s way enough times when I was a kid. Patrika has an idea she thinks is brilliant, and she wants her husband on board.
Earl locks eyes with his wife and silently mouths something to her. I read every word that leaves his lips.
Do you want them at our anniversary party? Go ahead. Invite them.
I plaster on my best poker face because I’m about to land an invite to a family function. This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s the third. I was invited to the wedding of the sister of a basketball player. He signed on with me a week later, and the tennis player who offered an invite to a birthday party agreed that I’d represent him before the night was over.
I fucking hope Finn Remsen won’t be at this party.
“I’ll be right back.” Maren shares a smile with the room.
“Hurry back,” Patrika calls after her. “I have a surprise waiting for you and your sweetheart.”
Maren stops mid-step but then continues without a glance back.
This wasn’t how I envisioned getting Fletcher Newman on my client list, but I do what needs to be done. If that means Maren and I have to play sweethearts in public, I’ll do it.
I hope to hell, my assistant is up for it too.
***
Maren comes back to my office, carrying a tray with two tall glasses. One is filled with orange juice, and the other with a dark-colored soda. Next to them is a mug with a teabag string hanging over the rim. A small glass container marked honey sits beside that.
I don’t recognize any of it. She put some serious effort into this, and I’m impressed.
Placing the tray down on the table that sits in the corner of my office, she turns to face all four of us. With a forced grin, she eyes me. “I should be going. I don’t want to be late.”
If she thinks she’s getting out of here that easily, she’s wrong. There’s no way Patrika is going to let Maren exit my office without announcing her surprise.
“Give me just a moment.” Patrika’s index finger springs into the air. “I have an invitation I think you’re going to like.”
Maren’s gaze lands on my face before she forces it back to Patrika. “An invitation?”
Patrika nods, causing a strand of her hair to fall from the bun on the top of her head. “We’d love it if you and Keats would join us to celebrate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary a week from Saturday. It’s going to be on the terrace at Howerton House.”
Maren knots her hands together behind her back. I watch as she kneads her fingers. Not a sound comes out of her mouth.
I step in by clearing my throat. “We’ll be there.”
Maren’s head drops. I know I should have told the Newmans that we needed time to check our schedules, or we had plans but want a rain check. Both of those would open the door for Finn Remsen to steal Fletcher away from me.
“Earl will text you all the details.” Patrika claps her hands together. “You’re going to be the best looking couple next to us, of course.”
“We can’t wait,” I say with a wide ass grin.
Maren taps a finger on the face of her watch. “I better run, so I’m not late.”
Patrika goes in for another