“Sorry,” I mouth to her. She bites her lip.
Rex must have decided that his stay command has expired because he takes off running toward Charlotte, immediatelyturning around and presenting her with his side as if to say, “Pet me!”
She laughs and does exactly what he wants her to do, digging her nails into his fur.
“Are you another K9 handler?” Joan asks.
“Oh, gosh no,” Charlotte says, still petting Rex. “I’m the event planner for the gala.”
“You and K9 Rex seem to get along well,” she prods.
“We’ve had some bonding moments,” Charlotte says, standing back up. Rex rubs against her legs, begging for more attention. It’s like he’s an entirely different dog around her.
“This is cute,” Joan tells Manny. “This is the footage we need. Now, Charlotte, tell me all about Rex.”
I stand back like a bystander instead of the owner, watching Charlotte in awe. She talks about Rex’s retirement and how he was almost euthanized twice before he came here. But she doesn’t sayhere, she says “Alden K9” like a real professional. Suddenly I can’t remember if I even said the name of my own foundation the entire time I was being filmed. God, she’s so beautiful, standing so confidently in front of the camera. Rex just laps up her attention, begging for more each time she stops petting him.
She and Joan have a great conversation about Rex, and the mission to find retired working dogs homes. She talks about the gala and mentions our rockstar donors by name. I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up editing out all of my parts and just keeping Charlotte’s interview on TV. I would be totally fine with that. She’s a natural.
I wish she was mine. My partner, my party planner, my life planner. My girlfriend. I wish this incredible woman would stay here forever. I don’t want the gala to be over and never see her car parked out here again. I think Rex might be in love with her, too.
I swallow. Sweat prickles all over my body. I’m terrified to lift my arm and see the pit sweat my brothers teased me about. So much of my future is riding on this gala and the news coverage and everything that comes next. It’s a sink or swim moment. And all I can think about is how I won’t have any idea how to go back to my life without her.
chapter twenty-three
Charlotte
I can’t believe I got to meet Joan Sanders! She’s a famous Houston journalist and I’ve seen her on TV for years. Not only did I get to meet her—I talked with her. On camera. Some of it might even make it onto the news, or their news website which is just as good in my opinion. I never watch live news but I do catch recaps online. I can’t wait to tell my mom that I might be on TV.
I wasn’t even nervous, probably because Rex was there and he kept begging for pets and attention. This is the most I’ve pet a dog in my entire life. Any time I scratched his head or neck, he’d nuzzle into me wanting more. It’s hard to believe that this is the dog who gets aggressive with everyone who tries to adopt him. Around me, he’s a cuddle bug. Hopefully he finds someone to adopt him that he likes just as much.
Everything should feel like it’s back to normal now, with the rain gone and Rex back where he belongs, but it doesn’t. It’s been a couple of days and the sun is shining, all the broken tree debris has been cleaned up, and the gala is only a few days away. All the excitement and enthusiasm I had for the gala is still there but it’s being overshadowed with a deep, uncomfortable dread.
It’s like I’m lost. Jenny has two new events lined up for me after this one—a retirement party and a couple’s fifty year wedding anniversary. I’ve started a few small tasks for the retirement party, and read over the other event’s data sheet but I’m not excited about either one. They’re boring. Bland events, for boring people.
As an event planner, not every event will sing to me the way the K9 gala has. Some are just boring events, and that’s fine because boring equals less stress and less stress is great for a long-lasting career. Usually I love boring events. I long for boring events. But lately I’m feeling bitter and annoyed, like the high I get from planning the K9 gala will never be matched again.
And no, it’s not just because the founder of said K9 gala is super hot. Seriously, why is he wearing tight-fitting tactical type pants that hug his muscular thighs so tightly? And don’t even get me started on that cute little, crisp shirt. Usually, he’s dressed in ratty old t-shirts covered in dog hair. It looks like he has a fresh haircut that’s been messed up in the perfect way and his scruffy beard is trimmed and tidy. Hands down, Caleb Alden is the hottest Alden brother. I would happily plan a million boring events if all the clients were this good looking.
I’m working from the Alden farm today because we’re getting several shipments of decorations for the gala and I need to be here to make sure they’re all correct. When the local news van showed up, I watched Caleb from afar, trying not to let my imagination go too far with made up little daydreams about that cute smile of his and the way his forearms glisten in the sun every time he gives himself a nervous hair tussle.
Joan stays a while after the camera turns off. We chat about the facility and the nonprofit foundation Caleb’s working on. Max brings K9 Rain out for a walk and she talks to him, too. While Max shares about Rain, I step out of the way and see Calebstanding to the side, alone. He watches his little brother with a serious, almost nervous expression.
“Hey,” I say quietly, giving him a little wave. “This is so cool.”
“Do you think it’s going well?” he asks, shifting on his feet. He rubs his eye.
“Very well,” I say, watching him watch his brother. The slight crease in his forehead deepens. “You’re going to get so much good press from this. A ton of people will learn about the foundation when this airs.”
“I didn’t sound…incompetent or anything?”
“Caleb!” I playfully slap his arm. “Of course not!”
He shrugs, shaking his head slightly. I want to take his hand, or give him a hug, but none of that seems like the right move to make so publicly.
“You okay?” I ask softly. We should be far enough away from Manny’s camera to talk, but I’d rather not risk having a private conversation picked up on film.
“Yeah,” he says.
