The Inevitable
We step into the room, and it’s gorgeous, but what’s really cool about it is that the balcony leads to an atrium that makes it feel as though you’re outdoors.
I grab a pair of dress pants, a flowy top, and my heels and get dressed in the beautiful bathroom. When I come out, Kolton is wearing a pair of charcoal gray dress slacks that hug his ass, a black long-sleeve button-up, and dress shoes.
With his hand in mine, we walk to the elevator and take it to the first floor. Then we head to the left and walk for a while. The signs point to the convention center, and I remember Kolton asked the woman at the front desk about the conference.
And then I see a sign: The International Restaurant and Foodservice Show.
“Kolt…”
“Surprise.”
“What are we doing here?” I pull him to the side. “I’m not a restaurant owner.”
“No, but one day you will be. I read about this show. It’s where all the top restaurateurs come to discuss the business. Independently owned, franchises… You name it. A guy I know from school who teaches business had some extra tickets. I figured it would be fun. Remind you of what you want, what you can one day have.”
Oh, my heart… Tears prick my eyes, making him misunderstand.
“We don’t have to—”
“No,” I choke out, wiping away a tear. “I want to. This is so thoughtful of you.” Even if the chance of me ever buying or starting my own restaurant is equivalent to one winning the lottery. It feels good to have someone think about me… to put me first.
We spend the day meeting a plethora of people in the hospitality industry—from liquor vendors to interior decorators. When the conference ends for the day, I walk away with enough contacts and information to have a great start to opening my own restaurant if I had the money. It also made me see and understand all the ways Sonora is messing up with The Orange Sunrise. It’s too bad she didn’t attend this conference.
“All right, I think I’m switching from psychology to opening a bar,” Kolton says as we walk out of the conference and back to our room.
“It’s kind of the same thing,” I joke. “All those people drinking at the bar tend to tell their life stories once they’re drunk.”
Kolton chuckles. “Some even end up falling in love with their bartender.” He throws his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple.
When we get inside our room, he says, “We have reservations for dinner at—”
But before he can finish, my mouth closes over his, desperate to show him how much I appreciate his thoughtfulness this weekend. “We can eat dinner later. Right now, the only thing I’m hungry for is you.”
Chapter Ten
Kolton
“Jesus, these kids can’t write for shit.” On another paper, I note that the student needs to take time to visit the writing center and then move it to the graded pile. As I’m grabbing the next paper from the pile, my phone rings out in the quiet room. Since Sierra is babysitting Zane today, I’m not expecting it to be her—our nephew is great at keeping whoever he’s with busy—so I’m not surprised when Keegan’s name appears on my caller ID.
“What’s up?” I ask, standing to pour myself another cup of coffee so I can get through the rest of the papers.
“It’s over. We found him, and he’s behind bars.”
“Him, as in…”
“Miguel. Turns out he was connected to Brenton. He’s been here, right under our nose, the entire time.”
I exhale a breath of relief. I’ve been waiting to hear those words from Keegan for too damn long.
“There was one minor snag,” Keegan adds, his tone weary. “Blakely was there when it all went down. She knows I’m an undercover narcotics officer.”
Oh, shit… That is not how he wanted to tell her. “How is she?”
“Pissed as fuck. And I don’t blame her.” He sighs. “I just dropped her off at home. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“Just give her time. You were in a shitty position and did the best you could. She’ll come around.”
“Yeah, I hope so. I need to go back to the station. There’s a shit ton of paperwork that needs to get done.”
“Does this mean you’re moving home now?” Keegan was only living here to play the part of a college student. He actually owns a nice-ass house elsewhere.
“Yeah, I’ll be back tonight to pack my shit.”
“Hey, Keegan…”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” We’re both silent for a beat before he adds, “Blakely doesn’t know the whole story… or really any of it. Can you let me tell her, please? I would rather it come from me. I had to keep it all a secret so I didn’t compromise the investigation.”
“Of course.”
We hang up, and I call Sierra, knowing she’s going to pissed. She and Blakely are two sides of a coin. And even though I technically never lied to her—and I made sure I didn’t—omitting the truth is still lying. When she doesn’t answer, I send her a text that I need to talk to her. She doesn’t reply.