A Fortune In Waiting. Michelle Major
and me.”
“I was raised by a single mum, as well.” He blew out a breath. “The whole time I was growing up, she worked at least two jobs to support me. She was my hero.”
All she could do was stare at him. Of all the things this man could have said, there was nothing more endearing to Francesca than how much he obviously loved his mother.
He flashed a full-fledged grin, somewhat self-deprecating, as if he hadn’t meant to share that detail with her. “Do I sound like a mummy’s boy?”
“Hardly,” she said on a small laugh. “You sound like the type of son every mother dreams about.” She paused then said, “I like the way you say ‘mum’ with your accent.”
“This coming from the woman with the adorable twang.”
“I’m a proud Texan native,” she told him, hitching a thumb at herself. “Go Longhorns. Keep Austin weird.”
“Remember the Alamo,” he added.
She giggled. “Exactly.”
“What are you studying?” He tapped a finger on the pile of notes in front of her.
“Accounting,” she said with a sigh. “I have a test tomorrow and it took everything I had to pull out an A last semester. This class is going to kill me.”
“Not going for a finance degree, I take it?”
“I’m a business major with a concentration in marketing. It’s not that I don’t like accounting...”
He nodded. “Because most people find it fascinating.”
She laughed again. For all her nerves around Keaton, it was also surprisingly easy to laugh with him. It had been a long time since Francesca had joked around with a man, other than her customers at the diner.
“I’m not sure fascinating is the right word,” she answered, “but the truth is math and I don’t always get along.” She pointed a finger at him. “I bet you’re a math whiz.”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I do use dimensions, quantities, area and other math-based principles in my work, as they relate to spatial thinking and patterns.” He took a breath then gave her another lopsided smile. “From mummy’s boy to architecture geek. I’m not doing a bang-up job of impressing you, am I?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered, because Keaton uttering building terms had the same effect on her body as another man whispering love words.
“Are you far along in your coursework?”
A familiar twinge of regret zipped across her stomach. “I’m in my second year,” she told him. “I took some time off after high school to...travel.”
“Visit any interesting places?”
She didn’t think the backstage area of every seedy concert venue between Austin and Los Angeles was what he had in mind, so she only shook her head. “Nothing worth mentioning.” She took another drink then idly flipped through her study guide. “I’m sorry to say my study break should probably be over now. I really do need to be ready for tomorrow morning.”
Was that a look of disappointment that darkened his eyes for a brief moment?
“Thank you again for coming to my rescue tonight.”
“No problem. I’m sure your project is going to be great,” she answered.
“Would you like an early view of the plans sometime?”
She swallowed. This was her chance. Say something witty. Something flirty and cute. “Sure,” she answered on a squeak. Okay, that was pathetic.
Keaton didn’t seem to notice. “Good luck with your test tomorrow.”
She blew out a breath and tucked a stray curl behind one ear. “I’m going to need it.”
He slid to the edge of the booth like he was going to ease himself out then stopped. “I could help you study,” he offered suddenly. “Quiz you on concepts and such?”
Francesca felt her mouth drop open. “Really? Because I’m sure you have someplace better to be.” Obviously he was being kind, but she didn’t want him to feel obliged to sit with her. Despite being her best friend, Ciara had made it clear on several occasions how boring Francesca was when she studied.
“I have no plans and there’s still...” He glanced at his watch then back at her. “Over an hour until the diner closes.” He moved back to the center of the bench seat. “It’ll be fun.”
“You must have a strange definition of fun in England.” She handed him a stack of notecards. “But I can use all the help I can get. Thank you.”
He asked the first question and Francesca couldn’t hide her smile. Maybe if principles of accounting were spoken in a British accent, she’d enjoy the class more. She made a mental note to buy handsome men slices of pie more often. Already this was the best study session she’d ever had.
Keaton walked toward the restaurant in downtown Austin where he’d agreed to meet Ben for lunch the next afternoon. The sidewalk was filled with men and women from all different walks of life. There were corporate types in expensive suits hurrying to and from meetings and power lunches that reminded him of being on the streets in London. Although Austin didn’t have the same Wild West atmosphere as Houston or Dallas, he still saw plenty of cowboy boots and Wrangler jeans mixed in with the trendy and somewhat casual style favored by most people in the city. It still felt a world away from the quirky neighborhood that housed his latest project and the casual restaurant that was quickly becoming his home away from home.
He’d thought about inviting Ben to Lola May’s, but for some reason Keaton wanted to keep the little gem of a diner to himself. It probably had something to do with retaining a bit of his anonymity, or at least keeping the focus on his work or even his accent, and not the craziness that came with being a Fortune.
Growing up in London, Keaton understood that people went a bit wacky for the royals and the Fortunes were their own version of an American royal family. They were particularly well known in Texas. Last year cosmetics mogul Kate Fortune had appointed Keaton’s half brother, Graham Fortune Robinson, as CEO of Fortune Cosmetics. That bit of news, coupled with the earlier revelation that Gerald Robinson was really Jerome Fortune, meant a brighter spotlight continued to shine on the branch of the Fortune family from Austin.
It was still an adjustment to be recognized as a Fortune when Keaton had been raised so differently from his half siblings. He liked that the staff and other customers at Lola May’s had quickly accepted him as a regular. Since it was just him and his mother growing up, Keaton appreciated any time he could be a part of a bigger community, even the casual kind at Lola May’s.
It was a far cry from the night clubs and swanky house parties he was used to back in London and it seemed to fuel his creative side as well as his spirit. He’d stayed up late last night redesigning the residential section that would become the second phase of the Austin Commons project based on feedback he’d received from the development company’s CEO. In addition to the brownstones and smaller apartments, he’d added an inner courtyard that could function as a community gathering space.
Many of the changes centered around an open-air design with shade pavilions to take advantage of the mild temperatures in Austin. Granted, he had yet to live through a Texas summer, but he was definitely enjoying the fact that he could be out in just a shirt in January.
He’d spoken to his mother just yesterday, and she’d told him it had rained in London every day since the new year began. Keaton lifted his face to the bright Texas sun and was grateful for the warmth on his skin.
Almost as grateful as he was to the obnoxious local at the diner last night