“I am going to murder each and every one of you if you don’t shut up and let it go.” I rub my forehead. “And for the love of God, please do not do any of this shit in front of her. She’s a professional event planner and we need her hard work to help the nonprofit succeed, got it?”
There’s no hesitation in my voice now. They understand, and they straighten up, which is good because we’re here. The restaurant sits back from the road a bit. There’s a large parking lot and mature pine trees scattered throughout. Campioni’s is classy and elegant, but not so much that you need reservations to dine here. It’s just nice enough that I can pretend like I belong here instead of where I truly belong, which is outdoors with the dogs.
We make our way back to the private event room. I see her before I notice anything else. Charlotte’s hair, which is always in a messy pile on top of her head, partially covered with sweat in the barn, is long and flowy today. Don’t get me wrong, her messy hair is sexy…but tonight? She’s an entirely new woman. Her eyes sparkle and her cheeks have a cute dusting of blush on them. I don’t think I’ve seen her wear makeup before but now she’s a vision, all done up to perfection. Her lips are the most different. Tonight, they’re painted a deep red, making them the focal point of her beautiful face. I can’t stop staring.
Her kissable red lips smile as she talks with a server. I’m so used to seeing her stressed but professional. Problem solving and downing coffees faster than I can brew them for her. Gripping her forehead in annoyance while talking on the phone.
But right now she’s able to bask in everything she’s accomplished through that hard work. She moves around theroom, greeting donors with a smile and handshake. She seems to have a little inside joke or laugh with every single person, charming them into remembering her, into supporting the cause. I’m frozen in awe.
“Caleb!” she says, eyes lighting up when she sees me across the room. She glides over, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Every single donor RSVP’d yes,” she says softly. She does a microscopic little dance meant only for us and no one else to see. “Everything is going perfectly!”
“You’re incredible,” I say. “Thank you so much for everything.”
“Let’s go introduce you to Dr. Magana.” With my hand still clasped in hers, she leads me across the room.
“Dr. Magana, this is Caleb Alden.”
Our biggest donor is tall, with graying hair, and a lovely smile. She looks just like someone with a heart big enough to dedicate her life to saving animals. Instead of shaking my hand, she hugs me.
“We are so unbelievably grateful for your donation,” I tell her.
“I’m thrilled to help,” she says, squeezing my arm. “I’m always looking for more ways to give back, and Charlotte found me at the perfect time. Is she your girlfriend?”
My throat catches. Obviously the answer is no. I know that. Of course she’s not.
Why do I wish I could say yes?
Why do fantastical thoughts take over my brain, allowing me to imagine that yes, she’s my girlfriend, and we’re running this organization together? Before I can fumble out a real reply, Charlotte says, “No, ma’am, I’m his party planner.”
“Ah, so you do all the hard work a girlfriend would do but you get paid for it,” Dr. Magana says, winking at her. The two share a laugh while I’m still here unable to take my eyes off this woman.
What the hell is going on?
There are beautiful women all over the world. On TV, the internet, and in real life. You can go to the tractor supply store and still run into a beautiful woman. Women in general are beautiful. Their soft, flowy curves, delicate features, and ability to put up with men. It’s all so lovely. That’s why I’ve spent my entire life flirting with every woman I meet. It’s fun. It makes me feel alive.
At least it used to.
Why is Charlotte making me feel like I’ve never even seen a woman before? As she moves around the room, introducing me to donors and speaking confidently about the cause of my nonprofit, I can’t focus on a single word she says. I feel like a Big Dumb Caveman next to her and she’s like a perfect goddess, working the room, effortlessly making everyone fall in love with her and the mission.
I don’t know what to do with myself. This is a new feeling entirely. Maybe I should ask her on a real date. See what life would be like as a man who chooses a woman and settles down. She turned me down when I asked her on a non-date, so the probability of her saying yes to a real date is probably zero.
“You okay?” Ethan says.
“Huh?” I blink.
“You good, man? You’re just standing here zoning out.”
I nod. “Yeah, yeah, just thinking about…the gala.”
“Well you’re at the pre-gala dinner now, and you’re kind of the whole reason we’re here, so act like it, bro.”
“Got it, thanks.”
Across the room, the woman I can’t stop thinking about connects her phone to the small projection screen that displays our logo on the wall. She starts a slideshow she’s thoughtfully crafted that features every donor’s name and business logo as well as photos of Rex and Rain and the K9 facility.
I make my way across the room, butterflies building in my stomach as I realize what I’m about to do. I don’t care about my self-imposed rules. I don’t care to flirt around with any and every woman anymore. I just want her.
Tom Laughran, high school football coach and co-owner of his dad’s automotive business, stops me to say hello. He was one of my first donors so I can’t blow him off, even though every ounce of me wants to push past him and go talk to Charlotte right now. Hell, I want to take her by the hand, pull her outside and kiss her under the stars. The way she’s smiled at me every time our eyes meet tells me she might, maybe, feel the same.
