Which is fine, of course.
She’s not obligated to tell me her comings and goings. I just hate that I didn’t get another chance to see her before the day was over. I want to email her, text her…hell, I want to show up at her house, wherever that may be, and beg her to assure me that everything will be okay. I can still feel the way her hand felt on my shoulder, and I indulge in the thoughts of more. Both hands on my shoulders. Her arms wrapped around me. Her head pressed to my chest. I bet her hair feels so soft. I bet she smells lovely.
In the meantime, I have William Bryan to deal with. He calls me just after nine o’clock which feels late to make a business call. Is that some kind of power move? Maybe I shouldn’t even answer it. Dread takes over those fluffy inappropriate thoughts I’ve had of Charlotte all evening, and I know I should just get this over with.
I’m in the garage working out, blasting music way too loud. I shut it off, rack my weights, and answer the call. I’m out of breath and the massive lump in my throat doesn’t help.
“Hello, this is Caleb,” I say. I’m no mastermind grade A jackass like he is, but I know how to pretend that I don’t know who’s calling just to make him feel not as VIP as he thinks he is.
“Caleb, I haven’t received a revised invite yet,” William says. “Shouldn’t you send them out soon since the date is changing?”
“I apologize for the confusion,” I say with a voice that feels more confident than I am. “The date isn’t changing.”
“Really?” He chuckles. “Is that so? You’re going to lose twenty five thousand dollars to avoid a simple rescheduling?”
“No, sir, there’s no loss. The event has already been planned and it’s not feasible to change the date.”
“Who on earth would give you that much money on such a short notice?” His laughter has turned serious with a touch ofanger. “You’re a brand new nonprofit. No one else will trust that you’ll actually do any good with that money.”
Anger flares in me. “My name and my work has more than enough credibility to it. We have plenty of donors and I’m sorry you were unable to fulfill your original commitment.” I swallow, feeling bold. “Maybe you’ll be able to find other organizations who need your money.”
“Who’s your new donor?”
I picture him gritting his teeth, angry that someone might swoop in and smash his greedy power move. It feels good. And yet—we don’t have a new donor yet.
“Your invitation is still open and we welcome you to come to the gala and see for yourself.”
“Don’t ask me for money again,” he says. The call ends.
I smirk, staring at my phone screen. Then panic settles back in.
What if we don’t get another large donor?
My phone rings at seven in the morning. I roll over in bed, yawning as I reach for it, and hoping like hell it’s not another confrontational call from the WLB CEO. Luckily, it’s just Leo.
“Your girl is here,” he says with a smirky tone in his voice.
“She’s not my girl.”
“Who do you think I’m talking about?”
“Charlotte?”
He laughs. “See? Clearly she’s your girl.”
I roll my eyes. “The barn is unlocked. She knows she can go work in there. I’ll be down in a bit.”
“I would hurry because she brought coffee and donuts. I mean, if you want some you should hurry. Otherwise we’ll eat them all no problem.”
I sit up. “You better save me a donut.”
Charlotte is stunning in her cute little wide-leg jeans and cute little blue button up top. Everything about her is cute. She’s like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise too-masculine business space. She sips from a paper coffee cup, resting her elbows on the front counter and laughing with my brothers. Ethan, Leo, and Max are all here and awake this early, which is insane. Owen’s still at college, probably sleeping in late, like a regular Alden. None of us are much for rising early unless we have to.
“Mornin,’” Ethan says, holding a donut.
Two boxes of Snowflake Donuts—the absolute best donut place around—sit on the counter along with one of those travel cartons of coffee.
“Damn, woman, you didn’t have to do all of this,” I say, shoving a donut in my mouth. “I appreciate it, though.”
