Page 49 of Catching the Mistletoe

I smiled. “Hello.”

She glanced down at her clipboard, and back up to Evelyn and Sam, who’d moved to stand next to us. “And you must be Evelyn and Sam?” At their nods, she continued. “It’s lovely to meet you all. My name is Nicole and I’ll be looking after you this evening. Thank you so much for coming. It means so much to us and we’re so grateful.”

“Our pleasure.” Mack’s voice was low and deep and did it have me clenching my thighs together? Yes. Yes, it did. And did he have to say ‘our pleasure’ like that?

“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your table. We’ve put you near the podium, so when it’s time for your speech, you won’t have to walk across the whole room.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the thought.” It was my first big, public speech, so it was nice that she was being so thoughtful.

“Have you decided which one of you is going to do the talking?”

Mack glanced at me. “Arabella”

Nicole smiled at me. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll be sure to have the microphone adjusted for you and you just let me know if you need any prep.”

“Will do.”

We made our way to the table and Mack held out my chair. Such a gentleman. As I sat, he leaned close, his breath tickling my ear. “I just wanted to say...”

I turned my head, gasping at how close he was. Close enough that if I leaned forward half an inch, I could kiss him. “What?” Oh, great, so I was squeaking now.

“You look really nice.”

Clearing my throat, hoping not to squeak again, I said, “Thanks.”

With a nod, he settled into his seat, his gaze scanning the room. “Pretty fancy.”

Phew, I could breathe again. “Yeah.”

“You nervous?”

“Nah. Gotta say I actually don’t hate feeling like a celebrity.”

He flicked me a little grin. Okay, so this was good. It felt a little more natural between us. Maybe we could get over this morning and manage to be friends. Or something.

At the mention of the word celebrity, it was like I’d triggered some cosmic algorithm, because suddenly, everyone wanted to talk to us. One after the other, for twenty minutes, people came by our table, wanting to thank us and chat. It gave me such a kick, even though it was a bit weird to be the center of so much attention.

Finally, the host swaggered up to the podium, gripping the mic like he was about to drop the hottest country album of the year. Dude was legit: a portly frame, a handlebar moustache so meticulously curled it was art, and a cowboy hat that screamed ‘I’m the real deal, y’all.’ The moment he cleared his throat, the room hushed. It was showtime.

“Evenin’, y’all. I’m Ted, and I’m honored to welcome you to our Winter Wonderland Charity Gala. Now, I know y’all are dressed to the nines and lookin’ sharp, but let’s not forget why we’re here: to raise some big bucks for the kiddos in need this Christmas season.” Ted glanced down at his notes before looking back up, his eyes locking onto where Mack and I were seated. “And on that note, folks, let’s give a big Colorado welcome to our guests of honor for the evening—Mack and Arabella! They’re the heart and soul behind the Caravan of Christmas, travelin’ all over this great nation to bring joy and hope to some very special kids.” Then, with a wink, he said, “Why don’t y’all stand up so we can get an eye full.”

We stood, and the room erupted into applause and cheers, catching us both by surprise. We exchanged glances, both of us feeling a bit overwhelmed but totally pumped for the night ahead.

“Listen up, y’all, our dynamic duo here—Mack and Arabella—are makin’ waves from coast to coast, and we’re all eatin’ it up, ain’t we? But now, real quick, let’s get somethin’ straight: the grand total they’ve racked up so far is hush-hush, you hear? Nobody spill those beans to ‘em, got it? We don’t wanna mess up the magic of their show.” A pause, then another wink at us, that said ‘I got you,’ before he continued. “Alright, now that we’ve cleared the air, let me give y’all the rundown on tonight’s shindig. You’re gonna wanna buckle up ‘cause we got a night jam-packed with good times and even better company. First off, y’all better have come hungry, ‘cause Chef Emily has whipped up a three-course dinner that’ll make your taste buds two-step. We’re talkin’ local flavors meetin’ gourmet, y’know?”

Ted adjusted his hat, clearly pleased with the crowd’s approving murmur.

“Then, right after we’re all stuffed like Thanksgiving turkeys, we’ve got the soulful tones of Miss Cassidy James gracin’ us with her vocal magic. Believe me, y’all, this gal can sing the chrome off a trailer hitch!”

A few people chuckled, and Ted’s moustache seemed to twitch in delight.

“But we ain’t stoppin’ there. Oh no. After Cassidy, we got the Mile High Dancers comin’ out to show us how to really cut a rug. Trust me, their moves are as smooth as Colorado whiskey! And if y’all are still standin’ after all that, well, the bar’s open, the dance floor’s waitin’, and the DJ’s spinnin’ tunes ‘til the cows come home. So let’s make tonight a night to remember, hey?”

Ted raised his glass, prompting a ripple of cheers and clinking glasses throughout the room.

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