I hope to hell it doesn’t. It’s fucking adorable. With each hiccup, her hair bounces, and her eyes widen.
“Maybe if I drink this, it will help.” The words pour out of her quickly before she downs half the glass of wine.
As soon as she sets it back on the bar, a hiccup escapes her.
“Dammit.” Her eyes search my face. “I know this meeting is important. I can’t have the hiccups right now.”
I’d tell her it doesn’t matter, but I can sense that it matters a hell of a lot to her, so I offer my advice, even though she never asked. “Press the thumb of your right hand into the middle of your left palm.”
“What?” Her hands fall open on her lap.
My gaze drifts from them down to her legs. Jesus, those legs. They could make a man forget his name.
“Keats,” she offers me a reminder she didn’t know I needed. “Where on my palm do I press?”
Her left hand reaches out to me, and damn if I’m going to pass over the opportunity to touch her.
When the pad of my thumb touches the middle of her palm, I almost moan. What the hell is wrong with me? I suck in a deep breath. I need to calm down. For fuck’s sake, I need to calm down.
A hiccup jolts her. “Please press it for me.”
I lock eyes with her as I cup her hand between mine. I gently press into the middle of her left palm as I stare at her. “It’s the best way I know to chase hiccups away.”
Uncertainty swims in her expression, but she doesn’t move as she hiccups again.
“I learned how to do this when I was a kid,” I explain. “Whenever I had a soda, I’d get the hiccups.”
The corners of her lips quirk up toward a grin. “You did?”
I don’t take my eyes off of her. “I couldn’t drink a soda at a birthday party because I’d have to hiccup my way through the birthday song.”
Her right hand jumps to her mouth as she stifles a laugh followed by a hiccup. “I bet the birthday boy or girl loved that.”
I chuckle. “The first time it happened, every kid there joined in and fake hiccupped along with me.”
She lowers her hand to her chin. “So, someone taught you how to get rid of hiccups because of that?”
I apply more pressure to her palm. “My grandfather did. The man had a pocketful of tricks just like this one.”
Her gaze drops to our hands before it levels back on my face. “What else did he teach you?”
I lean closer to her because the volume in this place just went up a notch. “He was the king of life hacks before they were a thing.”
She leans in too. “Tell me one. I want to learn something new.”
I like you. I really fucking like you.
The thought stays inside of me because that’s not a life hack. It’s a fact of life.
“Wear a hoodie backward when you’re watching a movie. You have a built-in container for popcorn.”
She narrows her eyes. “You use the hood to hold the popcorn? Have you done that?”
“More than once, “ I admit. “I taught Stevie to do it too. It’s a family tradition.”
Leaning closer, she laughs. “Why do I get the impression that you’re a bad influence on her?”
I don’t take that as anything but a compliment. The smile on Maren’s face tells me she meant it in jest. “You can ask her if I am when you meet her.”
“I’ll meet her?” she questions.
“I’d like you to,” I lower my voice. “And my brother too.”
She doesn’t say a word, so I keep talking. “Jamie used to drop by my townhouse for dinner sometimes. Everett and his wife do too. Everyone who has worked for me has been to my home.”
Whatever reservation may have been holding back her response is gone. With a soft smile, she looks into my eyes. “I’d love to meet your family, Keats.”
“I told you Mr. Morgan was a decent guy, Dad.”
Maren and I both turn at the sound of my name.
Goddammit. I took my eyes off the restaurant’s entrance and missed my chance to greet a potential client who could change my life.
“You called him a party boy.” Fletcher Newman lets out a gruff laugh as he elbows his father. “Mr. Morgan is going to introduce his girlfriend to his family. It looks like you had him all wrong.”Chapter 16MarenI yank my hand free of Keats’s grip. I look to him to correct Fletcher’s assumption, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, Keats jumps to his feet and offers his hand to Fletcher’s father.
“Mr. Newman, I’m glad you decided to join us.”
Mr. Newman takes Keats’s hand for an abrupt shake. “When Fletcher mentioned that he was having dinner with you, I wasn’t about to let him come alone. There is a reason we haven’t returned your calls, Mr. Morgan.”