Page 49 of Mr. Hook-up

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts for him. “Go on.”

But within a few sentences, I stopped listening to him and shifted my focus back to Drake, waiting for an opportunity to interrupt our head of finance so I could steal Drake’s attention.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long.

Our head of finance got up, presumably to use the restroom, and Drake sat unoccupied, sipping her wine. I waited until Grayson finished his detailed explanation of the complaint that he had fielded today before I turned to Drake and said, “Can I ask you something?”

Her head slowly turned, her teeth nipping the fatter of her two lips as she faced me. “Of course.”

“What really brought you back to Boston?”

I’d tried and couldn’t piece it together.

I needed to know why she’d given up such a successful career at Faceframe. Was it to be a larger fish in a smaller pond? To make her own mark on a company that wasn’t as well known as the social giant she’d once worked for?

Or was the reason much more personal?

Her head fell back just enough that she was able to gaze at the ceiling, revealing the column of her neck, the way her throat sank down, the cords that led to her chin. Simple movements that she made look so stunning. “I told you during my interview that my mom died. The honest answer is, I just wanted to feel closer to her. Boston was her place. I was quick to leave it. But as time went on, I realized how much I missed this city.” She held the wine against her chest, her gaze now fixed on mine. “There’s literally nothing better than sitting in the Green Monster during a Sox game. Or walking down Newbury Street after a few mimosas. Or shopping for ridiculously overpriced shoes in the Pru.”

I smiled. “I’ve purchased shoes all over the world. No one has quite the inventory of the Pru.”

She laughed, resting her hand on my arm for just a moment, knowing my response was full of shit.

The moment passed too quickly, and her fingers were gone.

“I love it here. I can’t help it.”

I took a look around the bar, at the framed memorabilia on the walls, the TV playing a Sox game, and listened to the chatter filled with our famous accent. “I do too.”

“Besides, my bestie lives here. She’s all the family I have, and it feels good to be close to her again.”

I didn’t want to ask.

But I did.

“There’s no dad?”

She slid the thin, fragile, gold-woven bracelet around her wrist. “Who needs a dad when you have the best mom ever?”

“You couldn’t be more right about that.” I pointed at my eyebrow, the tiny scar that sat above it. “That’s what my dad gave me.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean, he hit you—”

“No.” I shook my head, laughing. “Nothing like that. I just happened to be a really chubby baby, and I was wiggling like crazy. I fell out of his arms and hit my head on the high chair.”

She covered her mouth, giggling as she said, “Oh my God.”

That laugh.

That smile that lit up her face.

Fuck me, she was beautiful.

When she finally quieted, she said, “Tell me about some of the things you guys do around here. It’s been so long since I’ve lived on the East Coast, I forget.” She took a sip of her wine and set the glass on the table.

“The guys and I are into outdoorsy things. In the winter, we go skiing almost every weekend—Maine, Vermont, anywhere we can getto fast, and then we add in a few trips to Colorado, Utah, and Montana. The summer we spend mountain biking. Hiking. Wakeboarding. Camping. Finding a beach and parking my ass in front of the ocean.”

Her brows pushed together. “You camp?”

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