Page 47 of Maverick Mogul

“Ah.” Charlie nods knowingly. “The Queen of Palm Beach.”

“It’s her birthday coming up, and I need to pull out all the stops.” Dash says. “What do you get for the elegant, seventy-something women who has everything?”

Charlie turns to me. “That’s Grace territory. New York’s best, if most reluctant, concierge service.”

“I’ll pay top dollar,” Dash tells me, pleading. “I mean it. Please?”

“Sure,” I agree, happy to help.

“Excellent,” Dash says. “I’ll make Charlie cough up your number, and I’ll text you the specs. And, for what it’s worth, you could definitely branch out with this service. The lazy dude market is huge.”

I give a pained smile. “Also true on my dating app matches.”

He laughs. “Okay, kids. Have fun. Grace, lovely to meet you. Kindly send me a picture of Charles doing his men in tights routine.”

“Bye, Dash,” Charlie says, loudly. “My establishment had better be standing when I return.”

“Ourestablishment,” Dash calls, already halfway toward the stairs. “And it’s only one night.”

Only one night. Charlie and I look at each other in the quiet for a moment and then he says, “Bagels.”

“Sorry?” I say, confused. Did I briefly blank out, taking in his hotness like staring at the sun?

“Road trip ritual for me,” he explains, motioning toward the door. “There’s a place down the street. Sound good?”

It does. He locks my bag in the trunk of the gorgeous sports car he’s rented, and we head down the block.

“So, have you ever been to a Renaissance Faire?” he asks, holding the door open.

“Never,” I inform him. “Honestly, I don’t think I knew they were real for most of my life. So, I’m pretty excited.”

The bagel place smells incredible, like rosemary and onion and fresh bread.

“Charlie boy,” says a loud voice from behind the counter. “What’s new?”

Apparently, Charlie has a usual order at this place. He asks the owner how his daughter’s summer camp is going and if his knee is feeling any better. I watch the exchange, wondering if Charlie Fox is this friendly with every person he’s ever met in Manhattan.

“Oh, you brought a girl,” the guy says, spotting me. “Now, that’s interesting.”

Charlie looks briefly called out, but he smooths it over quickly. “What looks good to you, Grace?”

“Well, I always appreciate a recommendation,” I say. Looking at the owner, I ask, “Are there any customer favorites? Or something you particularly like to make?”

He grins, looking from me to Charlie. “I like her. Dealer’s choice, coming right up!”

We sit at a little bistro table outside the shop because, obviously, there is no eating in Charlie’s fancy car. He settles in happily, unwrapping the white paper. You wouldn’t think that a man chowing down on a bagel could be sexy, but, for the first time in my life, I find myself jealous of bacon, egg, and cheese.

“I’m sorry I teased you for using voice notes,” I blurt out. “Back in high school, I mean.”

He glances up at me, brows furrowed. It takes a moment for the look of realization. “Ah. Dash told you? Don’t even want to know how that came up.”

I nod, a little guiltily. “Did you know in high school? Before we did tutoring?”

He toggles his head back and forth as he chews, like the answer is complicated. “Remember Ms. Jenkins?”

“Sure. She was my counselor junior and senior year.” At the time, Ms. Jenkins seemed like a full-fledged grown-up. In hindsight, she was twenty-four, max.

“I got a meeting with her,” Charlie explains, “hoping to charm my way into a college recommendation...”

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