She wasn’t proud of herself for cutting off typical relationships. As if anyone else would have a chance while she was still hung up on him. It was embarrassing really, and probably why she didn’t talk about it. Eleven years really should be enough time to get over her high school ‘sweetheart’. Acceptance was the first step toward full recovery. The sooner she accepted that she’d never worked through her feelings for Wyatt, the sooner she could move on. For real this time.
And what if he stayed in Deadwood? He said he looked you up.
She cut off that annoying little voice in a hurry. It was bad enough that Wyatt was in town, and worse that he was staying in a casino. Her casino. Whatever crazy twist of fate that brought him back into her sphere was irrelevant.
But if he planned to stay…
Her imagination hijacked basic logic. They might rekindle their friendship, he might convince her father to take a chance onherplans. And pigs might soon be flying through the blizzard bearing down on the area.
She couldn’t count on Wyatt’s plans or anyone else’s. Her goals and ideas took precedence. She was sufficient and capable and… and still hopelessly hung up on a man who’d broken her heart.
Annoyed with herself, she clutched her phone, lifted her chin and thought about the seventy-five people who would soon be wandering around searching for distraction and entertainment.
Turning down the hall to the hospitality office, she almost plowed into Jack Thornton, a hospitality manager on the guestrelations side the Silver Aces operation. He caught her shoulders and steadied her.
“Hello, Evelyn.” His eyes roamed over her face and his hands withdrew slowly. “We heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, um, thanks.” He’d asked her out last week. His dark hair and eyes made him pretty much the opposite of Wyatt, but he was fit and friendly and had only been in Deadwood for five years or so. There was no lumpy, old emotional baggage between them. Suddenly she couldn’t recall why she’d turned him down. “Sarah sent me over for the ballroom set up.”
Jack’s eyes lit up. “So we’ll be working together today?”
“Looks like it.” A pleasant sensation swept through her as she smiled back at him. Thiswouldbe a great day. “I was thinking—” An alert made her phone vibrate in her hands. “One second.”
She skimmed the email message quickly and a happy cheer burst free, startling Jack. “Sorry.” Finally, Tate Cordell had reached out. From the tone of the email, he’d made a decision to invest in Cottonwood, despite not seeing the area firsthand. She pressed her lips together hard to keep from squealing with joy while she dashed off a reply.
This was exactly the kind of investment she needed to elevate the family business and provide tours and services year-round. According to the email, the package she’d sent with testimonials and proposals, along with her thorough business plan impressed him. The number he provided as his initial funding was twice the total she’d hoped to secure and he asked when and where he could wire the funds. Right now worked for her, if only so she could ogle the bigger bank balance online until the storm passed. She sent him the details for the wire transfer.
“Evelyn, are you all right?”
“I am!” She hooked her arm in Jack’s and did a quick do-si-do turn in the hallway. “I just got thebestnews.”
“Well, you certainly deserve that,” he said.
“Thanks.” She knew he didn’t mean it as a downer, but out of respect for Stan, she dialed down her celebration. “Let’s get going,” she said. “I’ve been working on some long-term solutions for the family business,” she explained as they took the service hallway to the ballroom. “It looks like it’s all finally coming together.”
“I’m happy for you,” Jack said. “Cottonwood is a great enterprise.”
He couldn’t have offered a more perfect response. “Thank you.”
In the ballroom they quickly formed a plan to give the stranded conference attendees a decent place to hang out, play for low to zero stakes, and network. “They might as well get more than they came for,” Evie said.
Jack walked over to the corner to the right of the doors. “We’ll keep beverage service and a buffet going in this corner. Games over there,” he pointed to the opposite corner.
“Sure thing. I’m thinking with this size group, we only need three poker tables and two for black jack.” They discussed the rest of the layout and tables for mingling. “You have enough wait staff.”
“We’re compressing services across the board. It’ll work.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Do you really think we’ll get six feet of snow?”
She glanced up from the update she was sending to her manager. “Are you afraid of cabin fever setting in?”
“More like a power outage,” he admitted, pulling out his own phone. “According to this update, the preliminary stage of this storm ends just after noon today and we’ll be in the thick of it.”
“Come on, Jack. You know the casino is prepared for any crisis.”
“Sure.” His gaze moved to the doors. “I just don’t like the idea of being snowed in.”
“Trust me, if it’s half as bad as they’re predicting, you’ll be happier inside than out.” She was still floating high on the knowledge that her business had been saved to worry about weather or stir-crazy customers. “Now that we know how many tables, I’ll go get what we need. Think we can open to the group around ten?”
Jack nodded absently while he keyed details into his phone, presumably passing along the schedule and information to his staff.
