A Fortune in Waiting

by Michelle Major

  Her first instinct was to pretend like everyone was making too big a deal of the situation, but Keaton took her hand and led her to a private booth in the corner.

  “Why do I feel like I’ve aced my own sort of test tonight?”

  She held her fingers over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “That might be true.” She set her laptop next to her on the vinyl covered bench seat.

  Ciara arrived at their table with a serving tray full of food and drink. She placed the roast chicken special in front of Keaton and gave Francesca her usual turkey Reuben sandwich with a side salad. They each had iced tea to drink and spent the meal talking and laughing.

  “Am I crazy to say this is just as enjoyable as our night out on Saturday?” Keaton asked as he forked up a final bite of mashed potatoes.

  Francesca pointed her fork at him. “You’re just saying that because Lola May has promised you pie.”

  “It’s because of you,” he answered, his already piercing blue eyes turning so intense she struggled to catch her breath. “You make everything perfect.”

  “I’m glad you think so.” She was more than glad. Her heart absolutely raced and tiny sparks danced up and down her spine. Just like her mother guessed, she was falling for Keaton. So hard and fast she wasn’t sure if there was anything she could do to stop it. The truth was she didn’t want to stop it. Somehow with Keaton she felt a unique mix of nerves and comfort, as if he was exactly the right fit for her.

  “But we still need pie,” she told him when he continued to stare at her. “I’ll grab us a slice to share.” She stared to move out of the booth, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

  Her knee knocked into the laptop, sending it flying off the seat. Francesca reacted as quickly as she could, horror slicing through her. She watched—in what seemed like slow motion—as the laptop crashed to the floor with a resounding crunch.

  “No!” She went to her knees on the linoleum next to the thin computer. The screen had completely separated from the keyboard base. The corner of the computer that hit the floor first was dented. “My life is on there,” she whispered, trying hard not to cry as she picked up both pieces. She’d saved for almost a year to buy that laptop and used it for every one of her classes.

  Ciara, who was serving the booth behind them, turned to gaze down at Francesca. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Maybe it can be put back together.”

  “Maybe,” she agreed, although she thought it would be easier to fix Humpty Dumpty than her broken laptop.

  “A tech guru might be able to salvage the hard drive.” Keaton had crouched down next to her and helped her to her feet.

  “Do you think so?”

  “Perhaps.” He took the laptop from her and examined both sides. “I happen to have some inside connections at Robinson Tech. I’ll call Wes and ask him to help or put me in touch with one of their gurus. We’ll find someone to fix this.”

  It was difficult for Francesca to form a coherent thought. So far, her nerves around Keaton had made her drop a plate of hot food into his lap, almost spill a glass of wine on him and now she’d destroyed the computer she needed like it was an extra limb. “I appreciate the offer,” she said slowly. “But I can’t ask you to do that.”

  Keaton took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “You didn’t ask. I offered.” He tipped up her chin with his other hand. “Let me do this for you, Francesca. Please.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. She forced air in and out of her lungs and sat back down in the booth. “Thank you. Let me know what you find out.”

  “Of course.”

  Lola May stopped by the table at that moment and set down two pieces of pie. “Dinner’s on the house tonight,” she said and gave Francesca’s shoulders a squeeze. “Sorry about your computer, hon. The desktop in my office is ancient, but you’re welcome to it anytime.”

  “Thanks, Lola May.” Emotion clogged Francesca’s throat at the thought of how many people she had in her life willing to help her. For so long, she’d been the one doing all the caregiving. She hadn’t realized how tired it made her until she’d left Lou and his bandmates behind. Even as a girl, she’d had to make sure her mom took care of things. Paige would often forget to pay the rent or utilities—assuming she had the money—unless Francesca reminded her.

  It sometimes felt like she’d been an adult for her entire life. As much as she didn’t want to let herself rely on Keaton, having someone to share both the good and challenging details of her life was a pleasure. One she could come to depend on far too quickly.

  * * *

  Francesca was halfway through her shift the following day when Lola May waved her over. She finished taking the order from a family with three small kids then hurried to the far side of the counter where Lola May stood.

  “It’s like we’re giving away food for free today,” she said as she tucked a pencil behind her ear. “I haven’t stopped running since I walked in this morning.”

  “I like the sound of that.” The older woman glanced over Francesca’s shoulder at the crowded restaurant. “I did what you told me and updated the diner’s profile on some of the social networking sites and had the regulars do reviews for us. I think it’s working.”

  Francesca blinked. “You took my advice?”

  “Don’t look so surprised,” Lola May answered. “I know you’re paying out the nose for those college classes. I also know you’re learning a lot. You have great ideas when it comes to marketing. I’m not much for the internet, but even an old dog like me can learn a few new tricks.”

  “I’m glad my suggestions helped,” Francesca said, pride bubbling up inside her.

  “A messenger just dropped this off for you.” Lola May tapped one pink-tipped fingernail on the wrapped package sitting on the edge of the counter.

  “My birthday isn’t for a couple of months.” Francesca said, trailing a hand over the box. “What is it?”

  “Why don’t you open it so we can both find out,” Lola May suggested.

  “Right.” The pink-papered box was tied with a wide grosgrain ribbon in a darker shade of pink. Francesca tugged on it gently, then unwrapped the paper to reveal a white cardboard box with the image of a laptop and the Robinson Tech logo printed on it. There was a note taped to the top and her eyes widened as she scanned it.

  “Well?” Lola May prompted.

  “One of Keaton’s brothers was able to retrieve the hard drive from my laptop, but the computer itself was ruined. He transferred all of my files to this laptop.” Her gaze met Lola May’s. “Keaton bought me a new computer.”

  The older woman chuckled softly. “Not exactly a diamond bracelet,” she murmured, “but for you this is probably even better.”

  “I can’t accept a gift like this,” Francesca whispered, even as her heart raced with excitement. “It’s too much.”

  “The boy wanted to get you a present.” Lola May gathered up the wrapping paper and ribbon. “Let him spoil you a little, honey. You deserve it.”

  “You’ve got a five top that just came in.” Brandi, the other waitress working today, hurried around the corner.

  Francesca quickly nabbed the ribbon from Lola May and wound it around the laptop box. “Can you keep this in your office for me until I get a break?”

  “Sure thing, Frannie.”

  Francesca put in the order for the family with the small children then went to greet the group that had just seated themselves in her section. She moved through the next two hours on autopilot, taking care of her section while joking with regular customers and even having a mini competition with Brandi to see who could encourage more diners to tag selfies taken at the diner on social media.

  All the while, a strange sense of joy buzzed around inside her. Her body felt like it was filled with a thousand swirling bumblebees. The energy had her moving quickly, and she tried not t
o get distracted by thoughts of Keaton and the extravagant gift he’d sent her. She would, of course, offer to pay him. Still, the gesture meant so much to her because it showed that he understood what was important to her. He valued what she valued. The only gifts Lou had ever given her were cheap trinkets he’d bought from the counter at the convenience stores where he stopped for cigarettes. After walking away from him, Francesca had thrown away an assortment of magnets, shot glasses and fuzzy pens.

  Without realizing it, Keaton had an uncanny ability to shine a light on some of the ways she’d let herself be undervalued in her previous relationship. No matter what her future held, Francesca vowed that she’d never allow a man to diminish her sense of self again.

  By midafternoon, the restaurant was finally less crowded. She asked Brandi to cover her section while she took a break. Grabbing the laptop box from the cabinet in Lola May’s office, she walked out the back of the diner then through the alley and across the street to the Austin Commons development site. She was heading toward the modular office when she spotted Keaton among a group of men in suits near the construction zone.

  As if he sensed her presence, he lifted his gaze to hers and waved. A moment later he excused himself from the group and walked toward her. He wore a dark gray button-down shirt, tan pants and boots. Something about the combination gave him a more casual look than she was used to seeing, and she wondered if he was acclimating to life in Texas more than he even knew.

  She certainly hoped that was the case. From what he’d told her, the first phase of Austin Commons was scheduled to open in June, and he planned to return to London after that. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Keaton living an ocean away.

  “What a beautiful surprise,” he said as he approached. He took off the yellow construction hat he wore and tucked it under one arm then bent to give her a gentle kiss.

  “Someone might see,” she whispered even as she lifted a finger to brush a lock of hair away from his face.

  “I don’t care,” he said against her lips. He pulled back suddenly. “Do you?”

  “Not at all.”

  He grinned like he was satisfied by her answer. “Aren’t you working today?”

  “I’m on break. I wanted to thank you for this.” She held up the laptop box. “You didn’t have to replace my computer.”

  “I wanted to.” He shrugged like he was embarrassed she’d mentioned it. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Yes,” she countered. “It is.”

  “You need a laptop for school.”

  “I do. But I can pay you back for the cost of this one.” She gave a small laugh. “It might have to be in installments, but I’m willing to pay interest and—”

  “Francesca, stop.” He placed his big hands on her shoulders, and she loved the warmth that seeped through her T-shirt at his touch.

  “I’m babbling,” she muttered.

  “The laptop is a gift,” he said, his gorgeous eyes gentle. “A gift is something you don’t pay for in any way. It’s freely given.”

  “It’s too much,” she argued.

  “No.” A breeze kicked up, blowing a strand of hair into her face. He tucked it behind her ear. “I want to spoil you. If a computer is how I choose to do it, you’re going to have to let me.”

  “Aren’t you bossy?”

  One side of his mouth kicked up. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “And aren’t you stubborn?”

  “I suppose.” She stuck out her tongue and he laughed. “Thank you, Keaton.”

  “You’re welcome, Francesca.”

  Once again, the way he said her name made her knees go weak. “I should get back to the restaurant.”

  “Do you have plans after work?”

  She smiled. “I think I’ll be getting to know my new computer.”

  “I’ve put out most of the fires around here,” he told her. “I was thinking of viewing a new photography exhibit at the Blanton Museum of Art. Would you accompany me?”

  She loved the way he sometimes sounded so formal even as he was speaking so casually. “I’d like that.”

  “What time is your shift over?”

  “Three.”

  “I’ll pick you up then. We can have dinner at my apartment after.”

  She gave him a quick kiss then hurried back to the restaurant.

  Ciara had just come in for her shift and greeted Francesca at the door. “A computer?” her friend asked when she had explained about her gift.

  Francesca nodded.

  “Not exactly a hopeless romantic, is he?”

  “It was a sweet thought,” Francesca answered, unwilling to share how much the gesture meant to her.

  “I assume this means you’re going to see him again?”

  “After work. We’re going to the Blanton Museum then to his place for dinner.” Francesca scooted past Ciara. “I’ve got to put the laptop in Lola May’s office and get back to work.”

  Ciara caught up with her in the hallway and grabbed her arm. “You know what this means, right?”

  Francesca turned. “I don’t have to grocery shop after my shift?”

  “It’s the third date,” Ciara practically screeched.

  “Who’s got a third date?” Brandi asked, coming out of the women’s restroom.

  “Francesca and Keaton,” Ciara said.

  “The sexy British guy?” Brandi nodded. “Nice work for the girl we used to know as Frizzy Frannie. I didn’t think you had it in you to nab a Fortune.”

  “I haven’t nabbed anyone,” Francesca said through clenched teeth. In the tight quarters in the hallway she hugged the laptop box close to her chest. She’d known Brandi since high school and hated that the other women mentioned her old nickname. All she wanted was to safely stow the computer in the office and return to work. She started toward the end of the hall.

  “Better pull out the matching lingerie,” Brandi called after her.

  Francesca stopped, sucking a breath as she slowly turned back to face the other two waitresses. “Why do you say that?”

  “You know what three dates mean, right?” Ciara asked.

  “That we’ve gone out two other times?”

  Ciara and Brandi both giggled like she was a silly toddler playing games. Although she’d been with Lou for over five years, sometimes Francesca felt like she knew next to nothing about how women and men were supposed to act while dating.

  “It means there are expectations,” Ciara explained. “Keaton will have expectations.”

  “Hopefully ones that involve cute undies,” Brandi added, doing a little pelvic thrust. “It means it’s time to get busy.”

  Francesca felt her eyes widen and quickly tried to feign indifference. “Things haven’t gotten that serious with us,” she said casually.

  “It doesn’t have to be serious to get down to serious business,” Brandi said with a laugh. “Get with the times, girl. If you want to hook a guy like Keaton, you need to pony up. I’m sure his other women know what the third date means.”

  Francesca swallowed and darted a glance at Ciara. Her friend took the cue and put a hand on Brandi’s arm. “We’d better get back out front before Lola May has a hissy fit. Francesca’s got this covered. Right, Frannie?”

  “You bet,” Francesca answered. “I did laundry yesterday, so my matching lingerie is fluffed and folded.”

  Brandi rolled her eyes but followed Ciara down the hall. Francesca hurried through the kitchen and into the office, slamming the door shut behind her. She placed the laptop box on top of the file cabinet then fisted her hands at her sides, concentrating on pulling air in and out of her lungs.

  Third date. Expectations. Cute undies.

  She wasn’t even sure if she owned cute undies anymore. For at least a year before they broke up, Lou hadn’t seemed to
have any interest in her sexually. He’d blamed it on being tired from his gigs, and she’d been naive enough to believe him. It wasn’t until she found him in bed with a random groupie that she realized he’d had plenty of energy—just no interest in her.

  She knew Keaton wanted her. Heck, he’d told her as much. But that only made her nerves spiral further out of control. He was handsome, charming and she knew he’d had plenty of girlfriends back in London. Did she even know how to live up to whatever expectations he had?

  Or was the third date going to be her last with Keaton Fortune Whitfield?

  Chapter Ten

  As soon as Francesca got in the car, Keaton knew something was wrong. She looked beautiful in a casual wrap dress with a pattern of delicate flowers sewn into the fabric and a pair of faded red cowboy boots. The few inches of skin between the hem of the dress and the top of her boots made his body grow heavy with desire. At this point Francesca could wear a potato sack and it would turn him on.

  But he couldn’t miss the slight stiffening of her shoulders when he leaned in to kiss her. There was no mistaking the brittle edge to her voice, either, or the way her smile faltered when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

  “How are things at the diner?” he asked as he steered the car through downtown Austin toward the U of T campus where the art museum was located.

  “Fine.”

  “Busy shift?”

  “Yep.”

  “Any interesting customers?”

  “Nope.”

  Her hands were clasped tight in her lap. He reached over the console and pulled one into his, lacing their fingers together. “Is everything okay?”

  She bit down on her lower lip before turning to him with a too-bright smile. “Just fine. I haven’t been to the Blanton since a field trip in fifth grade.”

  Was his choice of an activity the problem? Keaton had to admit he’d never before taken a woman to a museum, other than for a gala opening of some sort. But he had a passion for black-and-white photography that he didn’t share with many people. Normally his girlfriends only saw the side of him he wanted them to see—the charming bloke-about-town, the well-respected architect, the man who enjoyed good food and expensive wine. He wanted Francesca to know who he was underneath his mask, and it seemed like the photography exhibit would be a good place to start. Maybe he’d miscalculated. Or perhaps she was still not sure how to take his gift of the laptop?