by Sarah Gay
Benji always had a sandwich prepared for Cole on Thursdays. It had been an honest mistake. And once the sandwich was in his hands, he couldn’t let sweet Gracie down. It was her favorite, and she was known to be downright unreasonable without it.
He had gotten to know Gracie through a good friend on the team, Ace Sanchez. Gracie was Ace’s sweet step-daughter with Down syndrome who stole Cole’s heart the moment he met her. Cole started Tri-21 Ranch to help the trisomy-21, or Down syndrome, kids through equestrian therapy.
Cole stewed over the deli girl’s words during his thirty-minute drive back to the ranch. He pulled onto the gravel entrance to Tri-21 Ranch with her steel blue eyes still showering icy rain on his spirits.
When he reached the stables, a few of his football buddies were already booting up, as they liked to call it, when they swapped out their street shoes for their cowboy boots. The players who volunteered at the ranch proved tender hearted. Cole never expected such affection from the huge offensive linemen who were all aggression on the field. Bears with hearts of gold would be a good description for these men he now considered to be his brothers.
Cole jumped from his truck and lifted his chin to them in greeting. “Hey.”
They nodded back as Cole lowered the back of his truck to access the supplies he had purchased in town. “Mind helping offload?”
Cole hadn’t associated much with the offensive linemen before last year, being a defensive linebacker. His training sessions were often separate and with a different focus. The offensive linemen were a good deal heavier than he was—with substantially larger girths. They could inhale an entire pizza in a matter of seconds. Cole always made sure he had several large pots of chili or other simple but hearty dishes ready for his buddies to chow down on after their volunteer time.
When they finished off-loading, Cole strode into the grub house to check on the chili. The aroma of red meat, cumin, and chili powder saturated the air.
The dining hall, or grub house, wasn’t much more than a barn with large windows and expensive flooring. The high rafters were deep chocolate stained beams crisscrossing ten feet above his head. Twelve long, wooden tables divided the room equally. A few staff members bustled about the room.
Rosita pulled at his arm as she kissed his cheek, her customary greeting. Rosita was heaven sent. She ran the kitchen and organized the guests’ daily activities with precision and care.
“Señor, I can only work one more week.” Her compassionate face contradicted her destructive words as they whistled through the air like armed missiles. “My husband got a job as a CPA in New York City and we leave in two weeks. But no worry, I be here for your big date tomorrow night.” She winked at him before singing out, “I’m making something extra especial.”
Cole’s mouth dropped open before his eyes widened. Blowing out a breath, he regained his composure. “Congratulations!” he said with excitement. But what he meant to say as he watched Rosita skip away was, You can’t do this to me now. We have our big Tri-21 season’s end celebration at the beginning of June. That was only three weeks away. And this year, his ranch would be featured in one of those reality TV shows that spotlights the nation’s up-and-coming philanthropic outreaches. The camera crew and directors were set to arrive the day before the guests.
When football season ramped up, the ranch wound down. Cole’s future goal was to have a Tri-21 ranch in every state, fully staffed with horse whisperers and therapists to guide these precious Down syndrome kids and educate their parents on how to cope and best navigate the needs of their children. The reality TV episode could help him with that goal, or not, if he couldn’t find someone capable of taking Rosita’s place. Silver Sanchez, Ace’s wife, sprang to his mind. She was as event planner. She could salvage the event.
“Alexis,” he spoke to the speaker on the counter. “Call Silver Sanchez.”
It only rang once before Silver’s melodic voice answered. “Hey, Cole. What’s up?”
“Good News: I picked up Gracie’s favorite sandwich. Bad News: My arm was just cut off.”
“Dramatic much?” she said flatly.
“Seriously. My right-hand man, Rosita, just told me she’s quitting. I need your help.”
“Name it.”
“You know the Tri-21 Camp June 4th through the 8th that Gracie will be attending?”
“Yeah,” she replied with concern. “Do you need it catered?”
“Yes.” Instant relief washed over him. Silver would come through. “And I need someone on the ground to help coordinate and run everything behind the scenes when I’m helping the therapists, kids, and staff. Organization isn’t my thing. I need someone at the helm assisting the film crew, etc.”
“Oh.” Her intonation didn’t sound promising.
“Please tell me that Oh is an Oh, I’m so excited to do it.” He pulled at his thick beard. “It would pay extremely well.”
“I’m out of town that week. Gracie will still make it to camp, but she’s staying with my in-laws when Ace and I open up a new restaurant in Phoenix.”
“If you think of anyone—”
“Wait,” she cut him off. “I double booked tomorrow evening, so I hired a go-getter to help with an event, enabling me to focus on the bachelor auction. Why don’t you stop by at my other function before the auction and taste a few samples of the gourmet French dishes she specializes in? Come see if you two mesh.”
“French food at my ranch?” he questioned with amusement.
“You’re such a snob, Cole,” she rebuked him.
“How is that being snobbish?” He scratched at his head above his ear. “Seriously though, can she cook anything else?”
“Just stop by before you’re treated like a prized pig at auction and sold to the highest bidder.”
He tsked his tongue at her. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” She laughed. “The night Ace was auctioned off was super stressful and emotional for me, but it brought us back together.” Her voice lifted an octave as if she were drifting off to a fantasy land. “Tomorrow night could be just as magical for you.”
Instead of saying seriously sarcastically, he used the intonation to say, “Silver?”
“Just come to my other event and I’ll introduce you to her. I’m texting you the address now.” Her voice held an edge of irritation. “I’ll be there between four and five to check on things before I head back to the auction.”
He knew Silver was trying to help, and he’d be up a creek without her. “I appreciate it.” He replaced his sarcasm with gratitude. “Do you mind if a few of my buddies tag along to meet your French caterer? They’re helping me at the ranch and then giving me a lift to the auction.”
“Seeing as how the other guests will not have arrived by then, I’m sure you’ll all fit in the building,” she teased.
“You’re a funny lady.” He gave a courtesy laugh. “We’ll be there.”
4
“What do you think?” Maggie adjusted her phone on the industrial, twelve-foot kitchen counter for Pineapple to gain a better view of the bite-sized appetizers in their little white parchment cups. The shiny metal trays, which held hours of her sweat and tears, splayed across the entire length of the countertop. “And I thought being a firefighter was tough.”
“That’s impressive.” Pineapple gave her a thumbs-up. “Wish I could try them all.”
“I wish you could too.” She puckered her lips into a pout. “I need my seasoned taste-tester to tell me if I need to add more tarragon to the mini-quiche or a shake of sugar on the chocolate eclairs.” She puffed her satisfaction out the side of her mouth like a true Frenchman. “Here. I’ll try this one for you.” She slowly placed a scallop fresh out of the oven on her tongue and sealed her mouth over the warm delight as she closed her eyes.
Pineapple grunted. “I’m looking away now.”
“Mm.” The creamy, delicate flesh of the scallop replaced the salty crunch of the toasted chees
e as Maggie slowly bit down. “You are definitely missing out.” She opened her eyes to a blank wall. “Pineapple?”
“You finished torturing me?” He stepped back into the frame.
She laughed. Pineapple always brought sunshine to her soul. “I’ll make you these when I get back.”
“Hey, did you ever hear from my cousin?”
“Pineapple,” she scolded, accusation saturating her voice. “Did you give him my number?”
“You’re in a big city and all alone.” He shrugged. “I worry about you.”
“Well, if all goes well tonight, I’ll have to get used to being all alone in this big city.”
“When is your flight back to pack your bags for the move?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She waved a hand in the air. “I have a flight to Utah tomorrow afternoon. I need to be at work Monday morning. That one day will give me some time to unwind, and hopefully sleep all Sunday, because I sure haven’t gotten much sleep. I’ve been up since four this morning baking.”
“Stop by Sunday morning,” Pineapple encouraged. “I’m hosting a brunch for my family for Mother’s Day.”
“Of course you are. Always serving others.” She gave him a tender smile as she relaxed her elbows into the counter. “That’s why I think the world of you. Can I help you prepare the brunch?”
“I think you’ve cooked enough. Just stop by to meet my family and have a bite.”
She arranged the scallops on the platter. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Give me a ring later and let me know how the event went.”
Maggie gave him a shaka sign and pushed the end button. She pulled at the bottom of her long white chef’s jacket to adjust the fit. Her hair was up in it’s typical bun but controlled in a hairnet.
She reviewed the appetizers and desserts. With an hour remaining before the guests were scheduled to arrive, she had the food plated on their trays and ready to go out. All she needed to do was place the trays on their stands around the banquet room and she was golden. Silver had been a gem to work with. Maggie balled her fists with excitement. Dallas could be her next home.
“Howdy!” came Silver’s familiar sing-song greeting as she entered the kitchen. She stopped suddenly when she caught sight of the filled trays. “This looks amazing! But I must warn you.” Silver’s composure shifted to a motherly one as her chin tipped down and her eyebrows lifted. “The first rule of event planning states: No matter how thoroughly you plan an event, something always goes wrong.” She tapped her watch. “And nothing has gone wrong with the auction yet, so I’d better head back there after I help you place the trays.” She pointed to Maggie. “You’ll come over as soon as you finish up here, right?”
Maggie nodded.
“Good,” she said with a sigh. “Because this little quiet gathering here,” she pointed to the floor, “is nothing compared to the boisterous soiree you’ll find at the auction. You need to be at the auction to see if this is really what you want to do. If you still want to live in this world of bringing magic into people’s lives after the auction tonight, then we’ll sit down and talk tomorrow morning.”
Maggie folded her arms. “Nothing’ll change my mind.”
“Fabulous.” Silver nodded. “Now, you’ll want to wear an evening gown to the auction. Did you bring one?”
Maggie’s mouth went dry. “Evening gown?” she squeaked out as perspiration gathered on her upper lip. She’d never gone to prom or homecoming. She’d never even worn anything fancier than a cotton dress to church.
“I want us to blend in. We’re there as facilitators, not chefs.” Silver wrinkled her nose and scrunched her lips as she grabbed a tray and motioned for Maggie to follow her to the banquet room.
Maggie picked up a tray of eclairs and followed Silver to the carpeted room with its mosaiced ceiling, granite pillars, and crystal chandeliers that cast a thousand sparkles of soft light across the warm mustard room. At the entrance to the room stood an elegant circular table with a frosted crystal donations vase. An easel stood to the side of the table with simple and direct instructions on how to donate through a phone app in seconds. Framed photos of children with Muscular Dystrophy surrounded the vase. “You don’t get any classier than this,” Maggie said, setting her tray on a stand.
Silver blinked her freshly applied lashes as she lifted Maggie’s arms up from her sides by her wrists. “We’re close to the same size. I’ll drop off one of my dresses at your hotel on my way to the auction. I know just the one.” Silver winked. “You’ll look stunning in it.”
“Thank you,” Maggie responded with a whisper of gratitude as they walked back to the kitchen to retrieve their second round of trays.
As they arranged the remaining trays onto their respective stands, not a word was spoken. Maggie found herself speechless, which didn’t happen all that often. The only food they left in the kitchen were Maggie’s signature macarons. Per detailed instructions from the dating service, the macarons were to be wrapped in packages of one or two. The packages of one were to be given to the guests who remained single at the end of the evening as a sad consolation gift, and the packages of two—as a recognition of sorts to be shared together by those couples who paired together during the event. Maggie contemplated how she’d feel leaving alone at the end of the evening with a single macaron. Seemed like a twisted joke.
“Oh!” Silver exclaimed as she grabbed her purse from off the counter. “I almost forgot. I’ve got someone.” Her eyes wandered down to her side as if deciding how much information to share. “A prospective client will be stopping by shortly.” She tapped her watch. “But I can’t wait for him. Just find out what he needs, and we’ll discuss the details later.”
Silver bolted out the door, leaving Maggie to scratch the back of her neck and question aloud, “What he needs?” She picked up the sifter of powdered sugar she’d used to dust the cream puffs with as she leaned her back into the counter. She tapped the side of the sifter, watching the fine white powder waft through the air as she contemplated Silver’s riddle. “What who needs?”
“If you’re asking me?” a man boomed. “I need to find out who made these!”
Maggie jumped at the deep, sultry voice behind her, causing the powdered sugar to puff up one side of her face. She turned toward the banquet room as she blew the sugar she’d inhaled out her nose and mouth and blinked away the white powder now caked onto her lashes, causing her vision to cloud. By the amount of powdered sugar thrown into her face, she must’ve resembled Casper the ghost.
A heat of embarrassment blasted through her chest and settled in her cheeks when she saw the gorgeous colossus who had caused her to jump.
An elegant, clean shaven Hercules stood formal and erect in a black tailored suit with his hand outstretched to her in greeting. His long golden locks were pulled back behind his ears. She had a sudden urge to twist his curls in her fingers. It reminded her of a popular YouTube parody of how to properly do a man-bun. The muscular guy in the video demonstrates the proper hair-styling technique with his shirt off. She, and every other woman who enjoyed that video, didn’t watch it five times to learn how men accomplished that great feat, and yet that guy had nothing on this Hercules. This prospective client of Silver’s was gorgeous.
He cocked his head to one side and wrinkled his brow moments before he relaxed his shoulders and dropped his outstretched hand to his thigh for support as he bent forward in laughter.
Maggie reached for a kitchen cloth to wipe her face, finding enjoyment in his laughter. She should have been offended at how he laughed at her, but his laugh engaged her in a relaxed, familiar sort of way.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed out, swiping the tears of laughter from his eyes with the palms of his hands. “But thank you.” He shook his head as he regained his composure. “I really needed that to calm my nerves before I head into the lions’ den tonight.”
“Lions’ den?” she questioned, wiping her face with the thin cloth.
&n
bsp; “Silver didn’t tell you? I’m a Titan.”
She nodded with a coquettish smile and a raised brow. “I can see that.”
“No.” He returned her smile with wink, causing her heart to race. “I’m a Texas Titan.”
The space around her suddenly grew ten times larger, or perhaps she shrunk down to the size of a mouse. He hadn’t been flirting with her, just stating a fact. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this embarrassed. Perhaps in sixth grade when that mean boy lifted her skirt on the playground. She gave that boy a bloody nose and never wore a skirt again.
He stepped around the counter to her, picking up another towel as he rounded the corner. Her respirations quickened as his seductive gaze rested on her lips. He had winked at her, but maybe it was a flirtatious wink and not a know what I’m saying? kind of wink like she originally thought.
“Here, you missed a spot.” He lifted the cloth as he took two more steps toward her. His feet shuffled then slipped on the powdery floor.
Instinctively, Maggie widened her stance, slapped her forearms in a crisscrossed manner to his, and grasped tightly to the thick muscle below his elbow as she bore down into her legs. She held him from falling all the way the floor, allowing him to regain his footing. Once he steadied himself, they simultaneously blew out a sigh of relief. With their arms still linked and his eyes settling back on her lips, they stood motionless—as if the moment were worthy of being cherished, or at least remembered.
He cleared his throat. “How did you do that?” he questioned with apparent surprise.
She shrugged, looking from side to side. “Do what?”
He loosened his grip on her arm, but she refused to let go of him and stop the flow of energy between them.
