Chapter 1 #2
“You’re messing it up and it took me ages to get the curls just right.
” Her chestnut hair—streaked with dark auburn highlights—was painfully straight.
And as was the custom with women all around the world and throughout history, she hated her hair, always longing for what she didn’t have.
In her case, curls. Or hell, she’d settle for a wave or two.
“Seriously though,” he said. “Why the heavy sigh?”
Keeley shrugged. “I think I’m entitled to a little depression here.
I mean, I lost my job, the landlord just raised my rent—which doesn’t matter because without a paycheck, I can’t pay him anyway.
And I’m this close,” she pinched her thumb and forefinger together, “to having to move back in with my brother, which I think we can all agree would end badly.”
Liza feigned a horrified gasp. “One of you would definitely kill the other. No question about it.”
Keeley loved Kayden more than life itself, but their relationship had gotten a gazillion times better after she’d gone off to college and moved out from beneath the ever-present thumb he’d kept on her while she was growing up.
Not that she could blame him for his overprotective nature.
After all, Kayden had basically stopped being a big brother when he was twenty-five, forced to take on the role of surrogate mother and father instead, stepping in to raise her after their parents had been killed in a plane crash.
Her father, a former pilot in the Air Force, had continued to fly small charter planes after retiring from military service.
When she’d been younger, she would swear she spent more time in the family’s single-engine Cessna 172 than in their Buick.
Her dad was airplane crazy, never so happy as when he was in the air, soaring with the birds, as he liked to say.
Sadly, the plane had gone down when an unexpected storm caught up with him and Mom as they were returning from an anniversary trip to Nantucket.
Keeley had been fifteen and, even now, ten years later, she missed them more than words could say. Not a single day passed when she didn’t long for one of her dad’s big bear hugs or wish she could talk to her mom.
“And,” Keeley added, “if the job situation wasn’t bad enough, last night’s date ended with the same whimper as the previous forty-seven. I really, really,” she stressed, “need one to end with a bang.”
“Pun intended?” Liza joked.
“Absolutely,” Keeley replied.
“Hey, Gee,” Sam called from the dance floor. “They’re playing our song.”
Gianna hopped up with a laugh, joining her boyfriend as “I Like Big Butts”—which was definitely not their song—started to play.
However, it did appear to be Keeley and Liza’s song, as they both broke loose, singing all the lyrics at rapid pace, never missing a single word and shouting, “You get sprung!” at the top of their lungs, while Gio merely shook his head in amusement, claiming, “You two have issues.”
“Hey, Keeley,” Rafe called out, interrupting their impromptu concert as he approached the table. He dropped down into the chair Gianna had just vacated.
“Hiya, Rafe. You’re in luck. Gio turned me down for the night. The path is clear for our lust-filled evening of passion. If you’re nice, I’ll even let you pull my hair.”
“Keeley.” He gave her that tone, the one seemingly reserved for her that said “cut the crap.” And he managed it by just saying her name in that patient/exasperated tone.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to break my heart too.”
Rafe ignored her joke, which was not particularly surprising. While Gio teased back, Rafe simply pretended she wasn’t flirting at all. “Kayden just told me you lost your job.”
“Yeah, I did.” She hadn’t shared that information with Rafe because he’d spent the last month dealing with the aftermath of his grandfather’s death. She didn’t feel right complaining about her problems when he was genuinely grieving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She let her sympathetic smile answer for her.
Rafe rubbed his chin. “I’ve been too wrapped up in my own problems.”
Keeley reached out and placed her hand on his.
“You lost your grandfather, Rafe. I just lost a stupid job I didn’t even like.
” She’d been laid off in “last hired, first fired” style when the office supply company she worked for had been forced to scale back.
Online shopping conglomerates were hell on the little mom-and-pop businesses.
“Even so…I’m kind of hoping I can solve both our problems. If not forever, then maybe for a little while.”
She frowned, confused by his comment. “What do you mean?”
“I’m dying on the vine, Kiwi. I need you.” Rafe flipped his hand over, clasping hers.
Her heart skipped a beat or three as she purposely let herself misinterpret his words.
He needed her?
She wished.
“Need me how?” she forced herself to ask, ignoring the sudden heat growing between her legs. She wasn’t kidding about needing to get laid. It had been a while.
Scratch that. A while indicated months.
She’d drifted into forever territory, as she hadn’t gone to bed with a guy in well over a year.
“I want you to come work for me.”
She laughed for just a split second…before she realized he was serious.
It was hard for her to get used to the idea of Rafe being his own boss.
For the past decade, he’d been working as a finance manager for a large international company whose home base was in Philadelphia, but he’d taken a leave of absence after his grandfather’s terminal cancer diagnosis, wanting to spend as much time as he could with the beloved man before his passing.
He didn’t go back to the job after his grandfather’s death because he’d discovered he was the sole heir to what turned out to be a legit fortune. Like, an overnight-millionaire kind of fortune.
According to Gio, Rafe had expected his mom to inherit his grandfather’s wealth and vast property holdings.
Apparently, his mother and the latest in a long line of stepfathers—Keeley thought this might be husband number four or five—had thought the same.
And they’d caused one hell of a scene in the lawyer’s office.
His mother had broken into loud sobs, while his stepfather insisted they would contest the will and that Rafe hadn’t heard the last from them, before storming out.
“Rafe—” she started, shaking her head, certain his job offer was one of pity.
“Hear me out,” he interrupted, still holding her hand, a fact that was making it difficult for her to process what he was saying. He had a large, warm hand, and it made hers seem tiny in comparison. “I’m in over my head right now. I hate to admit that, but it’s true.”
Keeley didn’t doubt for a second he detested saying those words out loud.
Rafe was the “never say die” type, the kind of guy who rarely asked for help, certain he could do everything on his own.
To hear him say he was in over his head was…
well, shocking. Because she’d never heard him admit defeat on anything.
Rafe continued, “Grandpa was old school—like, severely old school. He didn’t trust computers, so all of his business information is stored in countless handwritten ledgers.”
Keeley’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Rafe shook his head. “And to add insult to injury, he was a bit of a hoarder. Not a gross, piles-of-trash, dead-pet-remains hoarder, but I swear to God I think the old guy kept every single piece of paper he’d ever touched.
He has so many boxes of paperwork, I can’t possibly count them all.
They’re stacked floor to ceiling in three rooms in the haunted mansion, and his office at Eclectic—that’s the nightclub he owned—isn’t much better. ”
Keeley had gone to the reception held at his grandfather’s home, after the funeral, and Rafe’s nickname for the place was pretty accurate. It was dark and dusty and creepy as fuck. Several rooms were decorated exclusively in large drop cloths, covering God-only-knows-what kind of furniture.
“Is the paperwork stuff you need? Can’t you just pitch it?” Gio, who’d been listening, asked the question.
Rafe rubbed his eyes wearily, and Keeley noticed the dark circles and lines caused by tension that never used to be there. Rafe was nowhere near as easygoing as Gio, which made their friendship one of those opposites-attract sort of relationships.
Rafe was the type of friend who seemed content with always standing on the sidelines, while Gio, with his larger-than-life personality, took center stage.
Gio was quick to tease with a loud, blow-your-eardrums-out laugh, while Rafe had a tendency to take life too seriously.
Gio was one big ball of emotions, all of which showed on his face and in his voice and hands, which—as was true of most Italian men—were an extension of his words and always moving, while Rafe was the very definition of stoic, never revealing any of his feelings.
However, Rafe’s stone-cold, rock-solid nature was absent tonight. She’d never seen him looking quite so…on edge.
“I wish I could toss them out,” Rafe said, “but I went through a couple boxes…just to see what was in them. Buried amidst a lot of crap that was trash, I found the title to a boat I didn’t know he owned and…
Jesus, get this…over three thousand dollars in cash.
Apparently, he didn’t trust banks much more than computers. ”
“Hot damn!” Gio exclaimed. “A boat. We need to go fishing.”
Rafe rubbed his brow. “I’d love that, but the truth is, I don’t have a clue where the boat is docked.”
Everyone at the table, with the exception of Rafe—who really was stressed to the max—laughed.