“Quit?” she interrupts.
“They didn’t like living with me.” I shrug. “They had an entire floor to themselves. I have no idea what the problem was.”
She rakes me from head-to-toe as if she’s silently surveying the problem.
“A lot of people quit when they work for you.” She glances at Dudley. “What’s going to happen to him when he’s not at doggy daycare?”
“I’ll give you an extra five thousand if you take him home with you every night and if you watch him on the weekends.”
Her chin lifts. “Make it ten. Add that to my yearly salary of double your original offer, and you have yourself a deal, Mr. Morgan.”
I hold in a smile. “It’s Keats.”
“Jamie called you Mr. Morgan.”
“You’re not her,” I point out.
“When do I start?” She glances back at the people walking past my office. “Do I need to sign anything?”
“You’ll start taking care of Dudley immediately.” I round my desk. “I’ll call Human Resources to put together an employment contract for you. Give me your full name, number, and address so we can take care of that today.”
“I’m Maren Weber,” she starts before she rattles off a number with a 917 area code and an address in Tribeca.
Maren Weber is already living large if she calls that building home.
“I’ll be in touch,” I say, meaning that I want to touch her, but small steps win the race.
“Can I get Dudley’s things?” She asks with a slight smile. “He must have favorite toys and a bed. Does he eat a certain brand of food? Last night, my neighbor gave me some of the food she buys for her dog, but I’m sure Dudley would prefer whatever he eats regularly. I want him to feel at home at my place.”
Dudley thanks her for asking by licking her cheek.
“I’ll have it sent to your apartment.”
She nods. “I’ll take off for now. Thanks for the job, Keats.”
The surge of desire that races through me stops my heart from beating for a half-second. “You’re welcome, Maren. Welcome to Morgan Sports Management. I think you’ll like it here.”
Her non-response tells me she’s not convinced of that, but I’ll make sure she has the time of her life while she works for me.Chapter 3MarenIf I could bottle the look on Arietta’s face and sell it, I’d be richer than my parents.
It’s pure joy with a touch of surprise.
In celebration of my landing the best job I’ve ever had, I ordered dinner in tonight.
Arietta is a big fan of anything French, so I called up my favorite French restaurant, Sérénité, and had them whip up a feast fit for the best roommate in the city.
It set me back a few hundred dollars, but it’s worth every penny.
Dudley is dining well tonight too. After a delivery person dropped off several boxes containing Dud’s belongings, I rummaged through them. The dog food he’s been living on is subpar, so I called my cousin Donovan Hunt. He’s a vet and the knower of all things animal related. He recommended a grain free brand. One of the vet assistants who work at his clinic stopped by with a complimentary bag for Dudley to sample.
When I filled his dish with it, he barked his approval before he devoured it all.
Arietta’s gaze darts from the food on the dining room table to Dudley wagging his tail.
Maybe her excitement is more about the dog and less about the coq au vin and chocolate soufflé.
“What’s happening?” she asks quietly. “Why is the little sweetheart here, and is that our dinner?”
I divide and conquer the questions as I reach for the worn-out leather bag in her hand. “We’re going to take care of Dudley temporarily.”
She willingly hands over her purse before she bends down to scoop him into her arms. He greets her with a plethora of kisses to the chin.
“I had dinner delivered tonight,” I say nonchalantly as I drop her purse on the white leather couch that neither of us finds the least bit comfortable.
My father bought this apartment furnished. Nothing in here has any personality other than Arietta and me. I can add Dudley to that list now.
“We’re having French food for dinner?” The question is punctuated with the rise of her brows. “Is it someone’s birthday?”
“Yes.” I nod with a sheepish grin plastered on my face. “Every day is someone’s birthday.”
That lures a laugh from her. “I’m lost, Maren.”
I reach to take Dudley from her. “Get into something less grandmotherly, and we’ll eat before the food gets cold.”
Her gaze skims her outfit. “You’re not the first person to tell me that I look like a grandma today.”
I’m not surprised. “I had a bottle of wine delivered too.”
She claps her hands together. “I’ll put on a sweater and yoga pants. I’ll be back before you can count to ten. ”***“I needed this.” Arietta sips from the wine glass in her hand. “This is so good.”