Chapter 3
Chapter Three
T ate
I close my computer and pick up my ringing phone, glancing at the screen before I say hello.
“Hey, Gannon,” I say, standing.
“I just returned to the office from a meeting with McCabe.”
I snort, stretching my arms overhead.
“Don’t start your shit,” Gannon says.
“Then don’t start a conversation by painting a picture of you in a hockey facility. I can’t help that’s fucking hilarious.”
“You are so easily amused.”
I chuckle and move to the windows overlooking the city. Although I won’t admit it openly to him, Gannon is right. When it comes to this issue, it’s time to be serious.
The Tennessee Raptors hockey team is the biggest thorn in my family’s professional side. It was Dad’s baby. Despite adding to the Brewer portfolio, taking on other projects and teams, and having kids, the Raptors were his greatest love. Naturally, when he went to prison a few years ago, and we had to sort through the mess he left behind, the Raptors were a full-blown disaster. None of us wanted to take it on, so we left it for last.
“McCabe gave me his two weeks’ notice,” Gannon says, dropping the news onto my lap like a barbell.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Someone in his family, maybe a parent, is sick, possibly with cancer.”
I shake my head, admiring my abs in the reflection. This would make a good selfie . “How do you not pay attention when someone shares such personal news with you?”
“Because I don’t care what’s happening in his personal life.” He sighs. “But I do care that the Raptors are without a marketing director. Again.”
“How far was McCabe on the rebrand?”
“The last full update was two weeks ago. He has a great plan and a hundred balls in the air, but I don’t know who will catch them now. I’d just as soon sell the team instead of dealing with it. But no one will buy it for a reasonable price in this state.”
I gaze across the city and mull over the situation. It would take a lot of stress off Gannon’s plate as the president of Brewer Group, the umbrella company that owns the Raptors, to have it sorted. I want that for him. He deserves to be able to go home at night to his fantastic wife and beautiful baby girl.
We all deserve to put this last piece of Dad’s legacy to bed. Once and for all.
But the hockey team needs a thorough refresh—spun in a complete one-eighty. It has to be completely detached from its current reputation with a new logo, mascot, and a whole new vibe . We have to make it an active participant in the community instead of a talking point whenever the word scandal is brought up in conversation.
“I don’t need this headache,” Gannon groans. “Help me out. Do you have any suggestions? We can’t just hire someone off the street, and I exhausted my contact list when I hired McCabe. Ripley gave me one name. Renn had nothing. Jason is useless in sports, and Bianca sent a shrugging emoji when I asked her.”
“Oh, so I’m your last call?”
“Don’t take it personally.”
“I take everything personally. How could it not be personal? Think about it—if you call me first or last, it’s a silent display of where I rank in your mind. Did you think of me first, or Jason? That shows how much faith you have in me.”
“Stop with the baby of the family bullshit and help me .”
I sigh for his benefit. “I wouldn’t be so mean to someone I needed—especially if they were my last resort—but whatever.”
Gannon doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t make a sound. Somehow, his irritated silence is louder than anything.
“ Fine, ” I say. “I don’t happen to have any names handy, but let me talk to some people at the event tomorrow night and see what shakes out.”
“Do you know what I really need? I need a brother who likes hockey.”
“What? No. No, no, no. Don’t even put that into the universe, asshole. With our dad, we could have a brother come out of the woodwork at any point. And, with our luck, he’d be a chip off the old block.”
A knock comes from the hallway.
“Hang on a second,” I say.
I grab several bills from my wallet. Then I pull open the door and find an older man in a suit and tie holding a single long-stemmed red rose.
“Good evening, sir,” he says, handing me the flower.
“Good evening.” I slip the cash into his palm. “Thank you for your help. I appreciate you.”
“Anytime, sir. Thank you. Have a wonderful evening.”
That’s the plan.
He flashes me a smile and then scoots toward the elevator.
I let the door swing shut behind me.
The energy I’ve been fighting to keep under control all afternoon and evening surges forward, filling every cell in my body. Kelly’s grin tugs at my heart. The curve of her shoulder as it gently slopes to her neck knots my stomach. The way she turned me down? It fucks with me.
Hard.
“Who was that?” Gannon asks.
“I had something brought to my room,” I say, unable to fight the smile slipping across my lips.
“Where are you this weekend, anyway?”
I place the flower on the desk, then head into the bedroom.
“That’s rude,” I say.
“What? Why is that rude?”
“You order me to these random places to do your bidding against my will, then you act like it’s so unimportant that you don’t even need to remember where you sent me.” I shake my head. “If it’s not important, for the love of God, Gannon—let me stop traveling so damn much.”
He groans. “Not this again, Tate. I don’t have time to listen to you whine right now.”
Fucker.
“You’re lucky because I don’t have time to whine right now,” I say, standing in the middle of the bedroom. What time should I head downstairs? “Although, make no mistake, I will complain to everyone who will listen once I’m back in the office on Monday. Because it’s complete bullshit that our family-owned airline couldn’t find a plane to take me on family business.”
“Take that up with Jason. I don’t have shit to do with Brewer Air.”
“I will. But, for now, I have other, more important—more interesting—things on my plate.”
Gannon groans. Again. “Do I even want to know?”
“I’m pretty sure I met my wife today.”
Silence.
“Gannon?” I ask, wondering if the call was dropped or if he finally got fed up with me and hung up.
“I’m sorry. Did you say you met your wife?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but crazier things have happened. I mean, it took a matcha latte to bring you and Carys together. But?—”
“Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“Get to the point.”
I smile as her name coalesces on my tongue. “Her name is Kelly Kapowski.”
Gannon’s laugh is loud, forcing me to pull the phone from my face.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“ Her name is Kelly Kapowski ?”
“Yeah …”
“ Tate .” Gannon does something I’ve never heard him do. He cackles . “Tate, really?”
My brows pull together. “What?”
The humor is still thick in his voice. “Let me get this straight. You met Kelly Kapowski, and now you think you’ll marry her? Have you been drinking?”
His amusement is annoying, but I don’t dwell on it. As my eldest brother, he’s made it his mission in life to either flat-out ignore me or to heckle me in the most frustrating way possible. He’s barely more tolerable now that he’s married to my best friend.
“No, I haven’t been drinking,” I say, slipping off my shoes. “We met on the plane and connected. We had a moment. I can’t explain it.”
“I bet you did.”
“You know what? I don’t like your tone.”
He chokes back another laugh.
“Why is this so funny? Renn got accidentally married in Vegas. Jason married his secretary. You married my best friend. And you somehow think that meeting your soulmate on a plane is wild?” I ask. “It sounds like a pretty normal way to meet a woman, if you ask me.”
“You know what? Valid point.”
“Thank you.” I step into the en suite. “Where is Carys? I need her.”
“ My wife is home, and let me reiterate to you for the thousandth time that I don’t like you saying you need her.”
I ignore him and give the room a quick once-over. After my shower, it’s not too messy, but the vanity could use some work. I gather my toiletries and shove them back into my Dopp kit. Then I wipe the counter down with a washcloth. Much better . Still, the suite is missing something …
“Well, for the thousandth time , she was my best friend before she was your wife.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles. “I have a meeting in ten. Give Carys a call. And Tate?”
“Yeah?”
“Ask Kelly if she knows Slater.”
“What—”
Gannon’s laughter fills the line just before he ends the call.
I roll my eyes as I press Carys’s name. As the phone rings, I straighten the pillows on the bed and toss my candy bar wrapper in the bathroom trash. I grab my cologne on the way out and give the pillows a little squirt in case Kelly makes it back to my room tonight. Women usually love a bed that smells like me.
“Hi,” Carys says brightly. “Sorry for all the rings. I couldn’t find my phone.”
“You, Carys Brewer, have done the impossible,” I say, cutting to the chase.
“Oh really? What did I do?”
I open the closet, pull a few things, and lay them on the bed.
“You’ve started to rub off on your husband,” I say, surveying my selections. “The fucker almost has a personality.”
“Be nice, Tate.”
“I’m always nice. But this isn’t about Gannon. I need a favor.”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I need your help choosing something to wear tonight.”
“At least it’s not helping you choose a shirtless picture for Social, I guess.”
I roll my eyes. “You are literally the only woman in the world who finds it painful to look at my shirtless pictures.”
“Because I know the real you, I’ve seen a million shirtless photos of your abs, and most importantly, I’m married to your much hotter, much sexier brother.”
I make a face as I hit the video call button, and she answers immediately.
“What do I wear tonight?” I ask, flipping the screen so she can see my choices on the bed.
“You called me on the way to the airport.”
“So?”
“So how did you get a date in Columbus that fast?”
I swivel the camera, so she sees my face and smile.
“What are you doing?” she deadpans.
“I’m just reminding you who you’re talking to.”
She glares at me. “Turn the camera around and let me pick your clothes so I can get off here.”
“I liked you better before you married Gannon.” I turn the camera around again. “I’m meeting a woman at the restaurant downstairs, if that matters.”
“Of course, it matters. Where are you staying?”
“I’m staying at the Picante hotel. We’re having dinner at Ruma downstairs.”
“Ooh, I love that hotel. Gannon took me to a Picante in Atlanta a few months ago, and we?—”
Ugh . “Carys?”
“What?”
“I don’t have much time here, so I need this to be about me.”
“You are seriously a pain in my ass.” She sighs dramatically. “Okay. What kind of vibe are we going for?”
“I want to make her fall in love with me,” I say without thinking.
“Well, you aren’t going to do that with clothes.”
I smirk. “I know. I’ll do that after dinner when she rips your carefully chosen outfit off my body.”
“Oh my God,” she groans.
“But I want to set the stage first. I need to be … irresistible—more than usual.” I wince. “Especially because she doesn’t know she’s meeting me for dinner …”
I cringe at the pregnant pause.
“ Excuse me? ” Carys asks, her voice a couple of decibels higher than usual.
I understand her shock. When I say it aloud like that, it also sounds like a bad plan to me. But that doesn’t change how it feels inside me because I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Despite her turning me down … she didn’t. Eyes don’t lie.
Twisting the camera to face Carys again, I frown. “I asked her out, and she kinda turned me down.”
“ What? ” Carys’s eyes go wide before she bursts out laughing. “ You got turned down? ”
I glare at her. “It’s not funny.”
“What happened? How did you manage to get denied? And why are you meeting her if she said no?”
“She said no, but she didn’t mean it. If I get there and she did mean it, I’ll leave her alone and never talk to her again. But she did let it slip where she would be tonight.”
“So you’re just going to show up?”
“Yeah. And see what happens.”
“What if she shows up with another man?” she asks.
“Great. That’ll only help my case.”
She pulls her brows together, amused.
“Come on, Carys.” I roll my eyes. “Do you really think he’ll be better looking than me?”
“I wish I could say no.” Her sigh turns into a chuckle. “You better call me afterward. I’m riveted .”
“Of course, I will. But it probably won’t be until morning because we’ll likely spend the night up here.” I flip the camera again. “Now, what do I wear? I need to come across … multifaceted. I need to be someone she wants to talk to, but also someone she wants to fuck. I need her to obsess over me like women usually do. Got it?”
She hums as she considers my options. “Okay, no jeans. That’s far too casual for the location.”
“Agreed.”
“Don’t do the black pants. That whole ensemble you’ve put together is a no. I mean, I love it, but it’s just not what you want tonight. It screams stuffy businessman and missionary sex.”
“We sure as hell don’t want that.”
“Ooh, I do love you in blue. Get closer to that blazer on top. Is that blue or green? It’s hard to tell under the lighting.”
I lower the phone. “It’s a dark blue.”
“Do that. Pair it with the pants lying under it, and … do you have any white T-shirts? The nice ones from Halcyon. Not the ones you work out in.”
“Yup.” I go to the closet and pull out the shirt in question. “I brought one.”
“Yes. Love it. Do that shirt and those pants. Pop a pocket square on the blazer for a little playfulness. I’m assuming you have a belt. And wear your white sneakers, not your dress shoes. That will help it make you look like you tried, but not too much.”
“Perfect.”
“Great. Do you have anything else I can help you with? Or can I go back to my life over here?”
I return to the main room, pick up the towel from my shower, tidy up the desk, and straighten the chairs by the windows. My computer is on the desk, and I consider putting it away, but ultimately decide to let it stay. It can’t hurt for her to see that I’m a professional.
The thought of having Kelly alone in my room makes my skin feel itchy, as if it's too tight for my body. Women don’t get under my skin like this. I’m Tate fucking Brewer .
Whatever happened today was a bit of a role reversal, but I’m too intrigued by her to care.
“I do have one more thing I need your help with,” I say, hanging the towel on a hook in the bathroom. “What flavors do candles come in?”
“What?”
“Don’t overthink it. Just give me a few of your favorite candle smells.”
She laughs. “My favorite candle scents ? You’re asking me for my favorite candle scents? What’s happening right now?”
“I’m trying to arm myself with information.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and turn my camera around to look at my best friend. Her brows are pulled together, but she’s grinning because she knows me better than anyone. In all the years we’ve known each other, I've never asked her about candles. I’ve never given two thoughts about them. The fact that I’m asking—that I want to be able to talk about the things Kelly mentioned she likes—isn’t lost on Carys.
Or me. But there’s no time to dig too deeply into that.
“What’s happening, Tate?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I met this woman on the plane.”
Carys grins.
“She’s the whole package. She’s beautiful. Sexy. Funny. She has this …”
It’s more than her sinful body and sweet smile. It’s not just her laugh that I can still hear ringing in my ears. I wanted to pull her onto my lap when she touched me.
It’s the crazy mix of confidence in her language and vulnerability in her eyes that has me unable to stop thinking about her. And I don’t know how to explain that without freaking Carys out. If I said that to her, she’d probably call an ambulance.
“Vanilla is popular,” she says softly. “If you want something more manly, you could say you like anything with amber.”
“Do I like anything with amber?”
She laughs. “Yes. Your colognes have it.”
“Got it. I like amber and vanilla.” I stretch my neck back and forth. “I just need some talking points, you know? I want to talk about things she likes, and she mentioned candles. Oh—and romance books. Got any of those for me?”
“Sure do. My current favorite is Love Hurts by Mandi Beck. Gannon and I read it to each other some nights.”
“ Love Hurts by Mandi Deck?”
“ Beck . Mandi Beck.”
“ Love Hurts by Mandi Beck.” I close my eyes and repeat it, hoping it sticks in my brain. “Okay, I think that’s all I need … for now, anyway.”
Carys smiles. “I can’t wait until this date is over so you can call and fill me in. You’ve piqued my curiosity.”
I stand and glance at the time on my phone. “Thanks for your help, but I need to get dressed. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Good luck, Tate.”
“I don’t need luck.” I pull the phone away so she sees my abs. “Did you forget who you’re talking to again?”
She snorts, shaking her head. “Good night.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and toss my phone on the bed. My eyes linger on the mattress long after the phone lands.
Excitement stirs in the pit of my stomach. But there’s a curious twist in my gut, too. Because when have I ever been turned down?
I snatch the phone once again and find Astrid’s name at the top.
Me: Heyyyyyy.
Astrid: Did the rose arrive?
Me: Yes, and it’s perfect. Thank you.
Astrid: Great. Now lose my number.
“Rude,” I say, tapping out a quick response.
Me: You don’t mean that.
Astrid: I promise you that I do.
Me: I actually need one more thing, and you’re the only person who can help me with it because you’re brilliant.
Astrid: Stop trying to charm me, Brewer. I know you. Get to the point.
Me: I’m going to ignore that.
Astrid: Whatever works for you. Now, what do you want? I’m organizing a few things for Renn and Blakely’s Australian house, and it’s a major headache.
“I need to send her something when this is over,” I say, then stop and stare at the wall. “Who can I get to send it if she doesn’t send it for me? Such a quandary.”
I shake my head and refocus.
Me: Imagine that you came to my hotel room tonight and were impressed. What does that look like?
Astrid: You would be gone, for starters.
Me: ASTRID, PLEASE HELP ME.
Astrid: Fine. I’m impressed in what capacity? What’s the goal here?
I survey the room.
Typically, I don’t consider what a room looks like before I bring a woman into it. Because who cares? They’re coming for one thing, and that’s not to analyze the hotel’s housekeeping.
But this time, it matters, and I’m not sure why.
Me: The goal is to make it feel more comfortable. Make it smell nice.
Astrid: Tate Brewer, are you trying to be romantic?
Me: This isn’t the kind of woman you take for granted. I gotta up my game. Put in some effort.
Astrid: You mean *I* need to put in some effort.
Me: Both of us. We’re a team now.
Astrid: We are definitely not a team. But, because I am impressed at this turn of events, yes, I will help you. How long do I have?
I check my watch.
Me: Two hours.
Astrid: Damn. I thought Renn’s timelines were bad.
Me: I appreciate you.
Astrid: Don’t try to suck up now. I’ve already agreed.
Me: Thank you, Astrid.
Astrid: I gotta go. I have two hours to make magic happen.
I exhale, feeling a little lighter than before. Although she never makes it easy on me, Astrid is brilliant at accomplishing the impossible.
“Now it’s my turn to make magic happen,” I say, discarding the phone again.
This whole situation has happened so quickly that I haven’t had much time to think about the ramifications if she doesn’t show up—or, worse, if she shows up at the restaurant with someone else. It wouldn’t be surprising if some other man had locked her in for dinner. There’s also the tiniest possibility that she’s not into me.
I bite back a laugh. Of course, she’s into me.
Her reasons for turning me down aren’t clear, but I suspect I can get to the bottom of it before the night is over.
And, if I’m lucky, I’ll get under her before morning, too.