CHAPTER1
Something wasn’t right. What? The playlist? Were the songs too slow?
Sky Williams leaned her hip against her dining room table, studying the printed plans in front of her.
No. That wasn’t it. It was a fundraiser ball. She’d chosen the perfect mid-tempo playlist to get people out on the dance floor.
Maybe it was the food. She didn’t have enough variety. Too much sweet and not enough savory.
No. That wasn’t it either. She had at least a dozen savory options and half a dozen sweet. That was plenty.
So, what was it?
Argh. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was just overthinking the entire dang thing and the fundraiser would be a perfect success, just like every other fundraiser she’d organized.
Ha. The last fundraiser had been a trivia night, and Rosemary Symes and Ivory Hanks had gotten into an argument about whose dog was better behaved. Then Mr. Bruno, who’d had one too many drinks, had jumped in and claimed it didn’t matter whose dog was better behaved, because they both looked like monkeys’ asses.
Now, if it had been her, she would have laughed the ridiculous, drunken joke away, but Rosemary and Ivory were very sensitive about their dogs, and Ivory had ended up throwing her drink into Mr. Bruno’s face.
Her phone rang and Sky picked it up, already knowing who it was without even looking at the screen. “Ivory’s going to throw her drink on Mr. Bruno again.”
Her mother chuckled. “No one’s throwing a drink on anyone, Skylar.”
“You can’t guarantee that.” She pursed her lips, still studying the millions of pieces of paper scattered over the table. Plans and receipts. Ideas scribbled on sticky notes. “Something’s wrong with the fundraiser.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I’m looking at the plans and I can’t figure it out.”
“Then how do you know something’s wrong?”
“It’s just…a feeling.” Not the most scientific method to know a problem existed, but she was right.
“Honey, you’re overthinking this. Despite some oversensitive dog owners, your last fundraiser was a success, and this one will be, too.”
Sky nibbled her bottom lip. The last onehadbeen a success. They’d raised a ton of money for the dog charity, and she was hoping they’d raise a lot for this one too.
“Are we still handing out fliers on Wednesday?” her mother asked.
“They’re printed and ready to go. Thank you for helping.”
“Of course. Anything to spend time with my only daughter. Now, I called to talk to you about Tony.”
The groan tried to slip from her throat, but she swallowed it.
Her mother may want to talk about Tony, butshedid not. She’d known Tony since they were kids, and the day his family moved away she’d been happy, because even as a ten-year-old, she’d found him annoying. And smelly. How a kid could maintain their stink into adulthood, she wasn’t sure, but he had. A disgusting onion odor that could be detected a mile away.
She’d actually nicknamed him Stinky Tony. Well, not to his face. But in her head, it was basically his legal name.
“He’s still staying with your father and me.”
“I know that, Mother. You told me he’ll be with you for a couple of months the other night, when you showed up with him at Indigo.”
Not only had her parents shown up with him, they’d then left the table to “get a drink from the bar” and hadn’t returned forthirty minutes. It was the most obvious date setup she’d ever endured.
She was thirty-two dang years old and herparentshad set her up on a date.
“Well.” Her mother cleared her throat. “We were actually talking this morning, and he mentioned that he’d love to have another meal with you.”
