Page 16 of Wild Nights

My heart raced as I ordered my usual drink. I wasn't sure what I was doing here. I never hung out at the bar except for my last night. Was I testing things with Oliver? Giving him an invitation to my room?

I drank my drink and watched the football game on the TV above the bar. I snuck a glance at Oliver, but he was talking to his brothers about something.

When I finished my drink, I paid my tab, then headed toward the elevator. I needed all the rest I could get tonight. Starting tomorrow morning, I'd be running for the next few days.

I ordered room service and took a long, hot shower. Then I settled onto the bed to answer last minute panicked emails from vendors who were concerned about how they'd get their wares into the conference room.

I'd sent out emails on everything from setup to rooms to meals, but not everyone paid attention until they were packing for the trip. I answered each one. By the time I was done, it was late, and I needed to get to sleep.

I wasn't sure what it meant that Oliver hadn't sought meout. I was here in a professional capacity, and we'd never talked about seeing each other again. Either he didn't want to, or he was respecting the professional boundaries.

I was torn because I wanted to see him again. No one had ever occupied my mind like this before, especially from one encounter.

I was here to run a bridal show, not get tangled up in the idea of Oliver Wilde. Besides, I worked with his brother and his family, by extension. I had no business engaging in an affair. Because that's all it could ever be. I lived in Maine to be near my sister and mother. I wouldn't be moving to Colorado.

When I got the urge to text Oliver, I revisited the feeling when I realized my father wasn't coming back. That his request for a divorce was real and final.

I couldn't trust a relationship with anyone else. They could leave or fall out of love. There were no guarantees in life.

The next morning, I was in the cavernous conference room where there were open moving boxes strewn all over the room, and each booth was in various stages of unpacking. As I walked by, someone would inevitably call out to me to help with a sign or setup. I had a knack for presentation and fixing things. It was why I was so good at my job.

By evening, my stomach was rumbling, and I was exhausted. My feet and head ached, but I'd be here until the space was empty because I held the keys to the room.

A staff person approached me with a bag. "Eli said to bring this to you."

"Oh, I didn't ask for anything."

She handed the bag to me. "He thought you might be hungry."

"That's so thoughtful of him." When I reached for a tip,the woman backed away with her hands up. "Tip was already taken care of."

I ducked outside, hoping I'd have a few minutes of quiet before someone else needed something from me. As much as I enjoyed my job, the conferences themselves could be physically and mentally exhausting. It was hard to remember to take care of my personal needs. I was being pulled in so many directions.

I found a few tables near ceiling-to-floor windows with gorgeous views of the mountains. Other than in my room, I didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the mountain range. One of these times, I'd need to rent some skis and take a lesson.

Skiing wasn't in the budget when we were growing up. It was an expensive sport, but now I could afford to indulge. Maybe. If I was careful the rest of the year.

I opened the carton, the smell of chicken and rosemary potatoes permeating the area. My stomach rumbled in response, and I dug in. I didn't look up until my stomach was full. It hit the spot, and now I wouldn't need to order room service when I finally got back to my room. The gesture was thoughtful and very much appreciated.

The woman had said Eli sent the food, so I took a few seconds to text him a thank you.

Eli: You're welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.

The Wildes were making it difficult not to recommend them to my other clients who could use a better location for their events. I was constantly steering them to the friendlier venues. But some of them preferred warmer venues by the water. But the threat of hurricanes in some locations caused me a lot of stress.

The only worry in Colorado was storms, but so far, we hadn't run into any. Most of my conferences were in the spring and fall months. But I had one scheduled in Telluridefor Christmas week. A bazaar where they were selling holiday crafts and food. It should be fun, and I was looking forward to it. The only worry was that I'd run into Oliver and I'd have no self-control.

I had rules about love and relationships. Never get too invested in any one person. They always let you down. Or at least men did. I couldn't forget how my father had so callously discarded my mother and, by default, me and my sister.

I shouldn't be thinking about Oliver Wilde or hoping to run into him. I was a professional, and I needed to focus on the bridal show. Tomorrow, ticketed guests would arrive, and they would add to my workload.

The next day, I placed one of the volunteers in charge of the line of customers, ensuring they gave the appropriate wristband to each one with their timed entry. Then I walked the room to ensure that everything looked perfect.

There was a murmur of anticipation in the room. Vendors hoped to get their name out there, meet more customers, and increase their business. I wanted the same thing. I just needed this event to go off without a hitch. If there was a problem, there'd be complaints on social media, and my name and reputation would be dragged through the mud. I'd seen it happen to other planners, but I vowed never to let it happen to me.

When I signaled for the door to open, the brides burst through with a mix of laughter and excited chatter. This was an event they'd looked forward to, and I wanted to ensure it met their expectations.

I moved from one emergency to another, putting a fire out each time. There were people who got into disputes waiting in line and vendors who had issues with their neighboring booths. I handled each one with grace and empathy.

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