I give his arm a squeeze, hoping to convey my diehard support, regardless of any sweeping judgmental comments I’ve made in the past.
“To sum up, your dad wants to cut a deal with the Langleys, so he’s trotting you out, since you have a reputation as a badass eco-warrior. He’s hoping that if he can get you on board, you’ll get them on board, and then it’ll be one big happy family. Do I have that right?“
“So far, yes.” He and I are still standing there, sipping wine, watching his parents as they enter the gala. “There’s more?”
“There’s always more.” Another couple comes up and starts talking to Keegan’s parents. “That is Bruce Barajas.”
“And he is?”
“Potential investor.”
“Of course he is.” I should’ve guessed that based on appearance alone.
Everything about this man screams Texas oil money. He’s dressed in pressed wranglers, cowboy boots, a crisply ironed white oxford shirt, and a cowboy hat.
It might be wrong to make assumptions about him based solely on his appearance, but I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. And I’m in advertising. Advertising is all about extrapolating who a person is and what they want based on just a few details. So here’s what I’d extrapolate about Bruce Barajas based solely on what I know so far:
“So, he’s Texas oil money. Either out of Houston or Midland. Which means he thinks this whole sustainability movement is a fad, but I’m guessing your dad wants to convince him to invest in the project, anyway.” I tear my gaze away from where Bruce and the McQuades are chatting. “Am I right?”
Keegan is beaming at me like he’d give me a gold star if he had one handy. “Close enough.”
“Which brings me back to: what’s the game plan? Are we here to convince the Langleys that your father can be trusted with their precious project or to convince Bruce that there’s money to be made in developing a project while still respecting the land it’s built on?”
I study Keegan as I say this, so I see the exaggerated, almost comical wince he gives.
I blow out a breath. “It’s both, isn’t it?”
“Yep. It’s both.” His grin is beleaguered, and it makes me so grateful I’m here by his side. “Whose ass should we kiss first?”
I take another drink of wine and survey the victims. “Well, the Langleys are going to be easy. Bruce will be the harder sell.”
“Let’s get the easy one out of the way.”
Keegan gives a courtesy nod to his parents before taking my hand in his and leading me down the steps of the terrace to the gardens below. We stop just long enough for him to snag us fresh glasses of wine.
As we reach the gardens, the woman turns, and I see her clearly for the first time.
Oh, this really is going to be the easy part.
She glances at me and breaks into a grin. “Meg, I didn’t know you would be here.”
Before I can respond, the older woman bustles over to me and throws her arms around me in a big hug.
She pulls back to give me a once over. “You look gorgeous.”
I glance over at Keegan to see him staring open-mouthed and dumbstruck. “You ... know each other?”
“Clara is the volunteer coordinator for Dig Deep,” I explain.
“Of course she is.” Keegan slants me a look. “And since you volunteer, you know each other.”
Clara looks from me to Keegan and back again, her expression curious. Clearly she’s wondering why we were talking about her.
“Clara, this is my good friend Keegan.”
Even as I say the word friend, I feel the fingers of his hand tightening on my hip, tugging me just a little closer to him as he holds out a hand to Clara.
“Keegan McQuade,” he says as he shakes her hand.
