Catch

Ouch. Talk about not-so-subtle shade.

Keats doesn’t flinch. Instead, he addresses the comment head-on. “I assume you’re talking about my reputation.”

The farthest I dove into Keats’s reputation was reading the responses to my post about Dudley.

When I did an online search for Keats that night, I honed in on his business website. I bypassed the image gallery that popped up and all the gossip sites.

“It’s not squeaky clean.” Mr. Newman sighs. “There are pictures and stories online. Word gets around between players.”

Keats rubs his chin. “I can’t say I’ve been an angel in the past, sir.”

“What are you now?” Mr. Newman shifts his attention to me. “Has he changed?”

Since I’ve known him for less than a week, I don’t feel qualified to pass judgment. I do feel I should say something about who I am to Keats.

“Of course, he’s changed.” Fletcher laughs. He pushes his blond hair back from his forehead. “He just asked his girlfriend to meet his family. Didn’t you do that with mom right before you proposed?”

My body tenses. How did we go from the Newmans assuming I’m Keats’s girlfriend to talking about marriage?

I finish the last of the wine in my glass.

“If he’s settling down, I might be inclined to stay for dinner,” Mr. Newman says to Fletcher before he looks at Keats. “I don’t want my son represented by someone who is going to drag him to parties every night. His agent has to lead by example.”

I’m tempted to interrupt to tell my boss to cut his losses now.

“No party dragging will be happening tonight,” Keats jokes.

Mr. Newman doesn’t crack a smile. “Give me a reason to stay and hear you out, Mr. Morgan. We’re both aware of how promising my son’s future is.”

I lock eyes with Fletcher for the briefest of moments. I read his bio. He just turned twenty-one two months ago. When I was that age, my parents tried to steer me in the right direction, but they let me hold the wheel. Alone.

I realize that Fletcher’s future is at stake. Choosing the right agent can make or break his career.

“He represents Pace. Isn’t that enough?” Fletcher asks, looking at his dad.

Mr. Newman shakes his head. “Pace Callahan’s ringing endorsement isn’t enough for me.”

I watch Keats suck in a deep breath. I may not know a lot about his business, but I do know that he wants to represent Fletcher. If he weren’t good at his job, he wouldn’t have so many top athletes as clients.

“Is my ringing endorsement enough?” I ask quietly.

Mr. Newman turns to face me head-on. “I’m sure you’re a lovely young woman, but this is between us men.”

That snaps Keats’s gaze in my direction. Before I have a chance to open my mouth, Keats opens his. “Excuse me? What did you say to her?”

I rest a hand on Keats’s forearm because I can fight my own battles. I win most.

“We’re going to talk business.” Mr. Fletcher tosses me a look. “Your date doesn’t need to be present for that.”

“Maren is a lot more than a date.” Keats buttons his jacket. “She’s an educated, intelligent, compassionate woman who deserves respect. If you view her as anything less than that, we need to end this conversation now.”

Stunned, I glance at Keats to catch him looking at me. He offers me a smile, so I return one.

Did he just throw his chance to represent Fletcher under the bus to defend my honor?

“Dad,” Fletcher snaps. “Don’t do this.”

Mr. Newman steals a glance at his son before he pats Keats on the shoulder. “Any man who steps up to the plate like that for the woman he loves is a man I want in my son’s corner.”

Keats looks as stunned as I feel. He shakes his head. “What?”

Mr. Newman turns to me. “Please forgive me for that, Maren. You can tell a lot about a man’s character by how he responds in certain situations. I wanted to see what your man was made of.”

Keats is not my man.

Those words sit on the tip of my tongue because I’m still in shock over the fact that Mr. Newman thinks my boss is in love with me.

I’m here for business. Someone needs to say it. I look at Keats, but his gaze is volleying between Fletcher and his dad.

“He was willing to walk away for you.” Mr. Newman grins. “He’s not the man I thought he was. I was under the impression that Keats Morgan was a self-absorbed, irresponsible, cocky bastard. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Keats must take that as a twisted compliment because he only nods in response.

I feel as though we’ve fallen into a hole that is so deep we can’t crawl out.

Fletcher confirms that when he slaps Keats on the back. “It looks like we’re staying for dinner. You should tell my dad all about how you and Maren met. He’s a big softie when it comes to love stories.”