Page 32 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“What? I don’t even get to know ahead of time who this guy is? Would you send your admirals into a mission without them knowing the facts?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“I certainly wouldn’t. Mostly because admirals outrank me.”

I huff out a breath. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t want you to know who he is yet because then you’ll be too eager. And what if there’s someone in there you click with more naturally? I’d like to keep your options open without you getting too in your own head when you meet the person I think might be a good fit,” he says.

“Ugh, you are infuriating, you know that?” Despite my complaint, a smile tugs at my lips. Thatcher has a way ofpushing my buttons, making every interaction feel like a chess match where I’m perpetually one move behind.

And kind of like a chess match, even when I’m losing, it’s still fun.

“Stay sharp. Remember what we talked about,” he instructs, ignoring my jab.

“Right, don’t spill drinks, don’t talk about conspiracy theories, and for goodness’ sake, don’t trip on anything.” I list off the main points from our earlier briefing, each one punctuated by an exaggerated hand gesture.

“Exactly.” He gives me a curt nod, then he splits off from me so that we don’t enter together. I take a deep breath, waiting a few beats before stepping into the grandiose hall, the buzz of conversation wrapping around me like a warm embrace.

“Okay, Thatcher, Operation Prince Charming is underway,” I whisper, scanning the room filled with elegantly dressed guests mingling among vibrant displays of silent auction items, all supporting the local animal rescue.

“Remember, let it happen naturally.” The words vibrate against my eardrum, Thatcher’s reminder grounding me.

“Right, naturally,” I mumble, only half listening as I accept a flute of champagne from a passing server. “Do I look like a loser coming to a gala all alone?” I whisper into the earpiece. “I’m even talking to myself like a weirdo loner.”

“Relax,” Thatcher says into my ear. “Lots of people come to these things alone. It’s perfectly normal. But you’re right about one thing… You may want to stop talking.”

I smooth my palm over the emerald-green gown that I borrowed from my boss. She wanted to give me her Prada dress, but God help me if I spilled something onthat. I insisted on borrowing the elegant dress that she found atlast year’s sample sale. Worst-case scenario, I can afford to reimburse her if anything happens to this Ralph Lauren dress.

I scan the ballroom, eyeing the different men here and can’t help but wonder which one Thatcher has picked for me. Across the room, a man smiles at me from where he’s chatting with two older women. On the stage, a guitarist is playing with the live band.

“It’s the guitarist, isn’t it?” I whisper, holding up my champagne flute to cover my moving lips. “You’re setting me up with a dog-loving musician?”

I can hear his exasperated sigh. “There’s no guarantee the band loves dogs,” he says. “This may just be a paying gig for them.”

“Hmmmm, good point.” Against the farthest wall, a man in a tuxedo sets up the silent auction items, bossing around some hotel employees. “How about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome volunteer over by the silent auction table?”

There’s a beat of silence before Thatcher says, “You think he’s tall, dark, and handsome?”

“Itishim, isn’t it?” I squeal, getting excited.

“No, it’s not. Stop trying to figure it out and enjoy the event.”

Snickering to myself, I turn away from the silent auction table and bump right into a man beside me. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” I start to say at the same time he also apologizes.

He’s already extending his hand, his smile friendly but forgettable. “I’m Chad,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi, Chad.” I take his hand, shaking it, but he doesn’t release me. He stands there, holding my hand, staring at me.

“Your name, Allie,” Thatcher says in my ear. “He’s waiting for your name.”

“Oh! Right, sorry, I’m Allie,” I offer, feeling my cheeks warm.

“Why are you apologizing?” he laughs.

“Oh, just…um…do you have a dog?”

“Cats,” he says. “I’ve rescued five from the Animal Rescue League.”

“Five!” I exclaim. “Five cats, wow. That’s a lot.”

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