Page 57 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

The tightness in my stomach eases. I agreed to cater an event tonight under the assumption that Harrison would still be out of town. The topic slipped my mind during our exchange, and I was worried he might not be okay with it.

The pay for this event was too tempting to turn down though. The Mavericks, the local pro hockey team, is sparing no expense to ensure their players are well-fed before and after the game. I wonder if Harrison ever attends their games or uses their training facility. Some mornings, he leaves with his hockey gear, so he’s obviously practicing somewhere.

I’ve always been curious about why he left hockey. As a rookie, he was already one of the league’s best players with a promising future.

The season following our weekend together, a friend invited me to a hockey game. The Huskies happened to be in town to play, and despite my resentment toward Harrison, curiosity won out. I hoped that seeing him would bring closure to the mystery of his disappearance that left me with so many unanswered questions. But when I arrived, I was shocked to learn that Harrison wasn’t on the team anymore. No explanation given. I’dalways assumed he was traded to a new team or something, but now I know that wasn’t the case.

Fallon: Okay. I’ll leave a couple of turkey sandwiches in the fridge in case you’re hungry when you get back.

Harrison: Thanks.

Harrison: Are you going out tonight?

Fallon: Why do you ask?

Harrison: Don’t want you roaming the city alone or meeting up with some weirdo.

Fallon: Weird how?

Harrison: Like someone you matched with online.

Fallon: Since when do you care who I date?

Harrison: I don’t.

Fallon: Sure.

Harrison: I can’t have anything happen to you. No one else can make a quiche like you can.

Fallon: Admit it. You’re worried about me.

Harrison: I’m late for a meeting.

Fallon: Can’t wait to tell you all about my date later.

Harrison: So, it is a date?

Fallon: Don’t you have a meeting to get to?

Harrison: If I say yes, are you going to ignore my question?

Fallon: You know me well.

A smug smile tugs at my lips as I slip my phone into my pocket. There is no date, but Harrison doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew about it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the idea of him being jealous. Not that it means anything. Except the flutter in my chest suggests otherwise.

After making the sandwiches for Harrison and giving Cat an early dinner of leftover turkey and green bean medley, I head out.

The team eats three hours before their game, so I have to be ready in advance. Fortunately, I was at the arena yesterday to handle the deliveries and prep the ingredients. All that’s left now is to assemble everything when I arrive.

The apartment lobby is quiet when I head downstairs, and Walter is thumbing through a sports magazine at his desk. The moment he notices me, he stands up.

“Good afternoon, Miss Fallon. Heading out?”

I nod. “On my way to a catering event.” I hold out a box of gluten-free chocolate chip cookies. “These are for you. I wanted to make you dinner, but I ran out of time after prepping.”

He waves me off. “Nothing beats your homemade sweets. Thank you.”

“Always.” I smile as I adjust my bag on my shoulder. It’s heavier than normal since I brought some of my own kitchen supplies with me.

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