Page 27 of This Thing Between Us

A cool sense of calm washed over me. This I could do. This I was good at.

I’d manage Jack Montgomery like I had my other clients, keeping him at a safe, professional distance. I’d build a brick wall around myself so strong that not even his ridiculously muscled arms could tear it down.

My gaze landed on said arms, then trailed upwards to Jack’s chest, taking in how his muscles filled out his uniform.

In high school, Jack’s strength training carved his young body, but now he possessed the bulk of a man, putting actors that played Hollywood superheroes to shame. I lifted my eyes to find Jack’s attention on Barb. I snapped my gaze back to my notepad, a flush of relief coursing through my body that he hadn’t caught me staring. I don’t think my ego could’ve handled it if he had.

“We still need a gala theme,” said Barb. “Last year we did Heaven on Earth and the year before we did Viva Las Vegas.” Barb laughed at herself. “That didn’t go over too well with the big guy.” Her husband, she meant. “I guess gambling and the police force don’t go well together. But I’ll be damned if it wasn’t the most profitable gala we’ve ever had.” She smacked the table in delight.

“So, we need to pick a theme, but do we have a date or a location, or do we need to figure that out too?” I shot a quick look to Jack before waiting on Barb’s response.

“We have a date but need a venue. Unfortunately, the Masonic Lodge is being renovated and is not an option for us this year.” Barb tucked back a strand of her gray hair behind her ear. “You two will need to find a venue first.” She pulled out a few pieces of paper, handing one to me and one to Jack. “That’s our budget, so keep that in mind when choosing a location. And then if you flip it over…” We complied. “You’ll see a breakdown of the prior year’s budgets and how they compare.”

I read through all the line items, and nothing stood out as unique. Venue, catering, drinks, decorations, all standard event details that needed to be covered. I nodded, feeling confident in my ability to produce.

“What’s the date again?” Jack asked, breaking his silence.

“November fifteenth,” Barb and I said at the same time. We looked at each other and shared a smile.

“Just over a month to plan the whole event,” I nodded, looking again at my notepad. A tight schedule, no doubt, but I typically managed multiple events at a time, so having only one to pour my energy and attention into would be a cake walk. Then I looked across the table again. Well, maybe not.

Jack folded his arms across his chest. I caught how his biceps strained the material of his shirt. He’d filled out since I last saw him ten years ago.

“Seems like we need to get started right away, Sprinkles.”

I grimaced. “Seems like we do.” I started packing my things up. We had our marching orders, now we just had to get started. “I’ll create a detailed timeline working backwards from the event date and email it over to you first thing in the morning. Sound good?” I stood up, not waiting for his reply. “Barb, thanks for everything.” I bent down and gave her a hug.

As I started to leave Jack cleared his throat. “Hey, Sprinkles, you forgot something.”

I turned around as my hand went to my purse confirming I had my notepad, my cell phone, and my wallet. “What’s that?”

“You forgot to ask me for my email address.” He smiled his wolfish grin, forcing me to walk toward him so I could make note of it. I had deleted the email account I had in high school. It was one barrier I put up to prevent Jack from contacting me over the years. I permanently deleted his email too, not wanting to hear from him either. Not that I hadn’t already had his old email address memorized.

Whatever.

I plucked my notebook out of my purse and set it on the table in front of Jack.

“Write it down, please.” I handed him a pen, lingering next to him as he slowly wrote down his email address—a different one than I remembered. When he finished, he handed the pen and the notebook back to me. I reached out to grab it, strategically trying to avoid touching him. But that didn’t stop Jack from reaching out and grabbing my hand.

“Don’t forget to email me.” His eyes glinted before he turned away to talk to Barb, effectively dismissing me. I stood there stunned for a second before turning away and walking out of Barb’s diner as quickly as my feet could carry me.

I started working on the gala immediately. My mind filled with theme ideas, and I was only occasionally derailed with images of Jack in his form fitting uniform. I tried pushing the latter away, but it was no use. I even decided to buy a bottle of wine on my way home from Barb’s. I sipped slowly from my glass as I worked on the gala planning that evening.

Stationed at the round dinner table, I oscillated between my notebook and my laptop. I particularly liked using my notebook during the brainstorming phase. It helped me to write down ideas, striking them through when I realized they were terrible or circling them in red pen when they were worth exploring.

My notebook already contained ten different types of gala themes we could go with, two of which I absolutely loved. As I sipped my wine, I began searching for venues when my sister walked in from her room.

“Whatcha doing?” Savannah yawned, still sleepy from her evening nap.

I peered over my laptop to look at her. “Looking up venues for this gala.”

“I thought they always held it at that one place, the Masonic Lodge, I think,” she said, absently rubbing her nonexistent bump.

I nodded. “Normally, they do, but it’s being renovated, so it’s a no go, meaning I need to find someplace cool so the donors and regular attendees won’t be annoyed by the change in location. You know how people can be sticklers about tradition.” I pursed my lips.

Fresh could be a good thing. I’d pick a kick-ass venue and by the end of the night, gala attendees would be so glad for the change in scenery.

At least, that was the plan. But my initial search turned up a real deficit of location options.

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