More Than Want You
Page 70

He won’t tell me, I’m sure. But it’s worth a shot.
“She doesn’t want to see you now.”
Those words make confetti out of my heart. Yeah, they hurt that bad. I suck in a breath, try to rein in the pain. Winning Keeley back will be a marathon, not a sprint. I have to remember that. I have to hang tough.
“She left her yoga mat on my lanai. I’d like to give it to her.”
Griff raises a dark brow at me, silently asking me if that’s the best I’ve got. “I’ll buy her another one.”
That grates at me…mostly because he can. Because she’s apparently chosen him. “I’ll return this one. Tell me where to find her.”
“Seriously, she won’t see you now,” he reiterates, his tone more forceful.
“All I need is five minutes.” Which I can hopefully parlay into the rest of our lives.
I don’t beg my brother. If I thought it would do any good, I would blurt every bit of my regret and love. But I know better.
“Look, Maxon. You’re a lot of things. A bastard, a son of a bitch, and a shitty-ass brother. But I know you’re not stupid. The answer is no.”
I’ll put it aside for now, but I’m not giving up.
“Why are we here? Isn’t this place closed for the night?”
Griff nods. “I sold the owner a new pad about six months ago. He told me the doors were always open for me. So when Keeley insisted we have a conversation, I figured this was neutral ground. Apparently she thinks an hour is all it will take for us to patch up our differences.”
I snort. “Did you tell her that’s impossible?”
He reaches for a tumbler of whiskey I hadn’t noticed just beside his elbow and cuts a stare at me. “You think it is?”
Griff thinks it isn’t? Does he want to make up? That would be a sudden change in tone.
I sit back and study him. But I still can’t figure him out. What does he want?
Suddenly, a bartender sets a Grey Goose martini in front of me. My brother remembered my drink of choice? He should, I guess. We drank together for a decade. But it’s still unexpectedly nice.
A waitress approaches us next with two dishes of bread pudding and sets one each in front of Griff and me. The haupia ice cream is already beginning to melt and mix with the oozing rum sauce. The bready confection is covered in candy nuts. It smells divine. I remember it as an orgasm for my mouth.
But I’m not particularly interested in dessert right now.
I stare across the table at my brother and drink my vodka concoction. “If you and Keeley are going to be ‘in a relationship,’ then yes. It’s impossible.”
He cocks his head, stares. The fucker is dissecting me. He’s good at it, too. “She means something to you.”
It isn’t a question.
I’m not ready to confirm his supposition. I’ve already given him way too much to use against me.
“Are you only here to make your new girlfriend happy or do you have something else to say?”
Griff’s mouth slides into a cynical smile. He doesn’t answer for a long minute. I can’t tell whether he’s enjoying my suspense or he has an outcome in mind and is trying to figure out how to get there.
“Just for grins, let’s say Keeley’s feelings have nothing to do with my reason for tonight’s peace accord.”
As he digs into his bread pudding, I ponder his answer. If he’s not here for Keeley, I can only think of two other possible reasons why he’s come, both equally unlikely. Well, almost equally. “Your pitch today went badly?”
It must have. The even less likely scenario, that he’s here strictly to repair his relationship with me, can’t possibly be true.
He hesitates for a long minute, his face giving nothing away. Finally, he gives me a slow nod. “Disaster.”
I’m shocked he replied at all, much less that he was so honest. “And you want my appointment with the Stowes tomorrow to try again?”
That infuriates the fuck out of me. He used the feelings he must know I have for Keeley to drag me here to steal my hard-won opportunity out from under me. I hustled, I sweated, I thought outside the box, and I prepared like hell.
None of that matters now.
He hasn’t confirmed that’s what he wants but…
I lean across the table and glare his way. “What are you willing to give me for it?”
I’m hoping like hell he says Keeley. Negotiating for a woman is a bit more underhanded than I’d like, but all Griff can give me is a chance to speak to her. I’ll still have to win her back on my own.
“I didn’t say I was in the trading mood.” He leans closer, too. We’re almost nose to nose. He’s wearing that amused smirk again that makes me want to rip his face off.
“You didn’t say you weren’t in the trading mood, either.”
“Touché.” He shrugs as if conceding the point. “All right. I want something.”
But he won’t tell me what?
Suddenly, I’m tired of this cat-and-mouse game. Every minute we live out this stupid charade is another moment that Keeley is somewhere else thinking that I love a fat commission check and my big reputation more than I love her. “C’mon, you bastard. Spill it.”
“What if you’re right? What if I was willing to trade my knowledge of Keeley’s whereabouts for your appointment tomorrow?”
I don’t hesitate a second. “Done.”
And happily. I don’t care if Rob quits. I’ll figure something out. Britta might still leave me, too. I can handle that. For Keeley, I can handle anything.
As long as I get her back.
My brother raises a brow at me. “You’re serious?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. I will trade you my appointment for the chance to explain everything to Keeley. You can have my notes and my goddamn presentation, too. It’s better than your verbal pyrotechnic and ticker tape parade crap. They want subtle.”
Suddenly, he laughs. “You’re right. I didn’t see that and I didn’t listen.”
That’s a huge admission for Griff. He hates to confront the fact that he’s wrong—ever.
On the one hand, it’s gratifying to know Keeley and I were right. Not so much because I wanted to beat Griff, although it doesn’t hurt. Mostly because I feel like I’ve learned something about being not only a better Realtor but a better man from this experience. She’s helped me so much.