Page 6 of Forfeits

“Marin. Fletcher Marin,” Patrick said with an amused look at his saucy coworker.

“Mr. Marin. I need to memorize the way you look standing in the midst of a pile of Victorian undergarments in your”—he looked me over and sighed—“fancy business suit.”

“Toby,” Patrick warned, standing up and pulling on a pair of white bloomers that he buttoned at his waist.

“What?” Toby said, keeping his gaze on me.

I was starting to feel uncomfortable. Ironic that I was the one on display when the two of them were wearing vintage underclothes.

“I’m enjoying the aesthetic,” Toby murmured, his eyes still on me.

“Did you need something?” Patrick asked.

“Oh shit. Yeah. I forgot my choker.”

Why was I still standing there?

“Oh,” I laughed awkwardly. “I’d better get home to Lucy.”

Toby gave me a piercing look. “Your wife?”

“Oh no,” I laughed in earnest this time. “Lucy’s my daughter.”

Toby whistled. “I knew there were daddy vibes.” He looked me over wistfully.

If these were the kind of theatrics that went on at Maverick Molly’s every day, no wonder it was doing so well.

Now Patrick was laughing. “Oh my God, Toby, stop. I don’t want to think about my uncle that way.”

I started for the door.

“Wait,” Toby called.

I turned to see him standing by a row of cubbies, holding something black in his fingers.

“Would you help me with my necklace, Mr. Marin?” He batted his eyelashes at me with a saucy grin.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “How does Alastair even put up with you? I’m gonna tell him you asked a strange man in a suit to dress you.”

Toby collapsed into irreverent laughter and put on the choker, attaching the clasp in the back and meeting my gaze with dancing eyes. “Ah, he’s not that strange. Sorry. I’m a fucking brat. Can’t seem to stop.”

“Cute,” I said. He was very cute. “I’d better go. Thanks, Patrick.”

“You’re welcome. See you.”

I took one more look at saucy Toby and got the hell out of there. Those outfits were incredibly titillating—not so much on my nephew, although he did look adorable.

But on Toby? I didn’t know who this Alastair guy was, but if Toby was his partner, he was a very lucky man.

When I got back home, Lucy was doing homework at the table and feeding Eddie bits of cheese off her plate.

“Lucy,” I said, “you know I don’t like you feeding him from the table.”

“But he’s hungry. And he loves cheese so much.”

Pick your battles. Pick your battles.

I went upstairs to change out of my suit, thinking about Maverick Molly’s and the pleasant atmosphere and good-humored employees. But there was no point, because I didn’t have anyone to take there, and I’d be damned if I’d go by myself. And anyway, I didn’t have time, with Lucy and the dogs and work.

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