Page 90 of Catch You

“Only the things you haven’t told her.” She winks at me as she takes her now full mug from the machine.

“She’s in so much trouble when she finds a serious guy. I’m going to shout all the details from the rooftops.”

“Aw, she’s just happy for you. And maybe just a tad jealous.”

“Just a tad. She’d had Corey locked and loaded, as far as she was concerned.”

“It’s going to take someone very special to put up with her brand of crazy.”

I snort. “You said it.”

We switch places so I can make my morning coffee.

“So, is it serious enough for him to attend your masquerade ball?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t invited him yet, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“You should. Fletch and Milo will be there, so he’ll have people to talk to.”

“I’ll see. I’m not sure getting dressed up in a tux and making small talk is really his thing.”

“You think it’s Fletch’s?” she laughs.

I shrug, because I know from first-hand experience just how easy he makes all the schmoozing look. “He’s a natural.”

“Years of practice. Invite him,” she says before moving toward the door as our boss, the team owner’s wife, pokes her head in.

“You ready, Reese?” she asks softly.

“On my way. Give us an hour and then come join us to go through the final details?” she directs at me.

“Sure thing.”

I make my coffee and head for my desk to get all of those details together.

I’ve been working on this almost since my first day. It’s like my baby, and I’m terrified that I’ve missed something or that something is going to go horribly wrong at the last minute.

I’ve got a couple of incredible celebrity guest speakers—Fletcher Ferguson included. I’ve managed to sell tables to some insanely wealthy and influential people, all of whom I hope will be more than generous on the night as they bid on the vast range of donated items. They range from a case of champagne to a two-night stay in a private château in the Loire Valley in France.

I shake my hands out as nerves hit me. I’ve never organized something so big before, and although I’m confident that I’ve covered all angles and thought of all the potential downfalls, my fear is still there, niggling that it’s not going to be successful.

By the time my hour comes to an end, I’ve got everything ready to go. I’m over-prepared, I know I am, but my need to prove myself and this event gets the better of me.

With my clipboard under my arm, I make myself a fresh coffee and head for the conference room.

I knock before Mags calls for me to join them.

Pushing the door open, I’m relieved to find it’s just her and Reese waiting for me. It’s what I was expecting, but there was a part of me that was worried I’d have more eyes on me.

“Come and grab a seat, Harlow,” Mags says softly as Reese smiles at me.

In previous years, she’s organized this event. But this year, she’s handed it over to me so she could work on other things. I’m certainly feeling the pressure of stepping into her shoes and raising the funds we need to help support the ice hockey players of the future and our local community.

“Right, hit us with the details.”

I talk through my schedule for the night, how I’ve arranged the rooms we’ve hired, and the costs versus my projected profit based on the rough figures each auction lot should bring in.

“Harlow, this is incredible,” Mags says, pride oozing from her kind face. While her husband might be the big boss around here, Mags loves getting involved where she can, and especially with any kind of event we’re running. The woman lives to get dressed up and socialize.

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