Dare Me(23)

I smile. “Yep. Hope you like steak and potatoes.”

“Is the pope Catholic?” She quips. “I grew up on a farm. If I didn’t like steak or potatoes, I would’ve been disowned.” She laughs and leans back against the island’s granite countertop. A few strands have fallen out of her messy bun and hang loose around her face. Her mascara has rubbed off just slightly under her eyes, making her green eyes pop against the dark outline. She’s mussed up, but still the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on. I never envisioned myself falling in love with Saige Phillips, but it’s almost impossible not to.

“What?” She asks as she catches me staring.

“Nothing.” I smile at her. I carry two plates and the silverware over to the table, fixing two place settings.

“What can I help you with?” She picks a small tomato out of the tossed salad and pops it into her mouth.

“Nothing. I’m going to throw these steaks on the grill and we’ll be done.”

“We should eat up on the patio!”

“Really? I thought you’d want to eat in here where it’s more comfortable.”

“You have that huge patio table, and it’s beautiful out right now. Let’s eat up there.” She bounces excitedly as she waits for my response. How can I say no?

I grin, appeasing her. “Let’s do it.”

Saige begins grabbing things—the salad bowl, dressing, a bottle of wine off the island, two wine glasses—and she takes off up the stairs. I shake my head and laugh at the simple things that make her happy.

A few minutes later, I meet her on the patio. She’s already opened the wine and is sitting in the middle of the lounger, Indian style, and sipping on a glass of wine.

“Hey,” she says, turning her head to me. Everything feels perfect with Saige here. Just a regular night in my home, sharing my life. I fight back a smile.

“Hey.” I set the tray of steaks on the stone outdoor counter and fire up the grill.

“It’s so nice out,” she comments, tipping her face to the sky.

“It is. We don’t get many summer nights that are this pleasant,” I remark about the mild evenings we’ve been having.

“Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

I don’t and it’s a shame. I spent a small fortune having this patio updated, but it hasn’t been used nearly as much as I would like it to. “Nah.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Why? It’s so beautiful up here. Even in the dead of winter, I’m sure it’s amazing.”

“It is. But it’s damn cold.” I laugh. “Honestly, Saige. I don’t spend a lot of time at the house, and when I am here, I’m usually in my office or going to bed.” I put the steaks on the grill and pull a beer from the mini-fridge built into the large stone island.

“Why do you work so much?” She asks sadly, pushing herself up from the chaise lounge and meeting me at the grill.

My heart rate spikes, and I fix my eyes on the steaks as I flip them. “I know what it’s like to have it all and then lose it all,” I say, closing the lid on the grill. “I pride myself on being honest, hardworking, and keeping everyone that’s employed with me happy. The culture of a good company is only as good as its leaders.”

She bumps her shoulder into mine. “You’re a good man, Holt Hamilton.”

I give her a small but honest smile. “I try to be.” Shifting the conversation away from me, I take a deep breath. “So what do you think of your experience with Jackson-Hamilton so far? Has it been everything you thought it would be?” I wag my eyebrows at her and let out a little laugh. “But seriously,” I encourage her.

She rolls her eyes at me but answers honestly. “I love it,” she says excitedly. “Of course, I was nervous as hell the first few weeks. I mean, when I saw the names of some of your clients, I almost had a heart attack.”

I chuckle at this. We have our fair share of celebrities, rock stars, professional athletes, and even business and political figureheads. We cater to anyone willing to purchase a private aircraft. “You’ll get used to it. Pretty soon, you’ll realize all of those people are just like you and me. There really is nothing different about them other than their fame.”

“And their million-and billion-dollar bank accounts,” she snorts.

“Ah, yes. Their money.” I nod in agreement.

“It’s intimidating.”

I frown at her. “It shouldn’t be. It’s money. Doesn’t make them a better person. In the end, it’s just money.”

Her lips tuck in, and I imagine she’s thinking about her past. “I grew up poor, so money intimidates me.” Poor. My heart sinks as she says this. She adds, “Well, not dirt poor. I had clothes and food and a roof over my head, but the clothes were never the latest trends, and I just never really fit in.”

She tips her head back, swallowing the rest of her wine. I reach for the bottle and refresh her glass.

“You know what I appreciate about you, Holt?” She steps over to the edge of the rooftop patio, then leans forward over the short hedges that line the perimeter, giving the patio a more park-like feel.

“What?”

“I like that you have money, but you don’t care. You have nice cars, this house is seriously the shit,” she spins around and looks at me, “but at the end of the day, you’re totally normal and not a complete dick like most rich men I’ve met.” She smiles at me after she’s done.