Trevor guided them, taking up the floor with long strides. Over the years, he’d picked up his share of dance steps. Between the parties at Honeywilde and his travels, he liked to think he could hold his own.
With a quick prayer that he didn’t muck it up, he spun Brooke into him, before dipping her backward.
She inhaled sharply, and then cracked up laughing. “You did not just dip me.”
“If you say so.”
Dark lashes fanned against her skin as she blinked.
“Kind of feels like you’re mid-dip though.”
“Please don’t drop me.”
“Give me some credit. I’m not going to drop you.” He straightened and brought her with him, still holding her close.
His smile had to be ear to ear. But Brooke was smiling too.
“Admit it. This is fun.”
Lids lowered, she demurred for a moment, and then her gaze tangled with his. “Fine. This is fun. I needed a little fun, so thanks.”
“You think the high schoolers would die of embarrassment if we danced at their prom?”
“I might die of embarrassment. We aren’t eighteen anymore.”
“We’ll be there regardless. Think of how much fun we had at Dev’s wedding. It could be like that, only funner.”
Another laugh popped out. “Funner?”
“Super funner.” Unable to resist, he brushed her hair back over her shoulder, his fingers getting lost in the soft, dark strands.
Brooke’s gaze softened, her lips parted to answer.
Damn, he wanted to kiss her.
He’d told himself he was going to play this cool. Let her lead, play by her rules, plan a prom, and hope for the best. But his attraction hadn’t waned since Devlin’s wedding, and neither had their chemistry.
If anything, they’d both grown.
Seeing her here, in this place she called home and work, in her element, she was as impressive as she was vulnerable. The vulnerability was new, her walls not as tall as before.
“Are you asking me to prom, Trevor?” A playful smile touched her lips.
“You have restricted my conversational skills to one topic. What choice do I have?” He moved his hand across her back, his fingers brushing over the dip of her spine, her skin warm beneath the thin knit top.
A slight shiver ran through her, her gaze unwavering.
“If you’d loosen up the restrictions, a lot of things could be more fun right now.”
“Things like?” The question fell from her lips, and she seemed as surprised as he was that she’d asked.
But her dark gaze took him in, daring him to answer, to put a name on what crackled between them.
“Oh, my God, this place is amazing!” A teenage girl bounded into the ballroom.
Had to be gravity-defying determination that kept Brooke from falling flat on her butt in her scramble to step away from him.
“I can’t believe this. This is where we get to have prom?” The girl turned in circles, long braids flaring out and spinning with her.
“You must be Dorian.” Brooke appeared shell-shocked. She waited for the girl to stop twirling before offering her hand.
“Yes. Sorry.” She took Brooke’s hand, everything about her oozing contagious joy. “I’m just beside myself. Look at this place!” She rushed over to the young man who was lingering near the door.
“This is Lance.” She urged him forward. “We’re the prom chairs.”
Dorian’s sidekick, a blond jock-looking fellow with a smile like he did chewing gum commercials, shook hands with them both. “Thank you for letting us use Jolie on short notice.”
“We’re delighted we can help.”
Without waiting through any further niceties, Dorian took off, oohing and ahhing over every square inch of the room.
Brooke called after her. “As you can see, there’s plenty of space here. We have tables and chairs for the room as well.”
Trevor joined in, trying to channel all of his siblings, to provide some ideas that were fresh and unique for these kids. What would Devlin want? What would Sophie do? How would Roark make it happen?
“We were thinking some flowers would be nice. Since we’ve discussed having the doors open to the garden.”
“Yes.” Dorian clapped her hands together, her nodding fueled by pure enthusiasm and energy.
He liked the girl already.
“We could get the flowers from Brenda’s, downtown,” Trevor suggested. “Beyond that, you’ll need food and drinks.”
Brooke cleared her throat and stepped in. “Don’t most people still go out to dinner before the prom?”
The wind went out of Dorian’s sails. “Normally, yes.”
“But we’d included dinner in the cost of tickets. So our classmates paid premium price because they thought they’d get a meal at prom,” Lance said, shrugging.
Brooke’s tone went flat. “I see.”
“I don’t,” Trevor whispered from the side of his mouth.
“The juniors and seniors have already paid in a lot of money, expecting to get dinner at the prom. Some of them might not have the extra funds lying around to go out to eat next weekend.”
“So, if possible, it’d be best if we have food here?” he clarified.
Dorian nodded. “At least heavy appetizers? But only if it’s possible. We understand if it isn’t.”
Trevor shared a sympathetic glance with Brooke.
They couldn’t let a bunch of kids go hungry at their prom because some business person didn’t know how to manage their money.
Brooke spoke, but the words sounded like they were being pulled out of her by the roots. “We’ll do something for food here. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Trevor added. “Other things to think about would be decorations, a DJ, prizes—”
“Only all of that?” This time, Brooke was the one muttering.
“That’s all of the major things we’d included. Unless you guys know of something we forgot.” Dorian smiled at them both.
“I think that about covers it. Here, why don’t I show you the garden that we can incorporate into the event?” Brooke ushered Dorian to the doors, making her way outside like the room was on fire.
Lance wandered over to stand beside Trevor. “Do you work here or…”
“I’m with Honeywilde. So, what does your committee have in mind as far as music?”
For some reason, Brooke rushed right through what all they needed to organize for this prom. That was the whole point of this meeting, so if he needed to take the lead here, he would.
“Other than we’ve got to have some?” Lance stood there, not a trace of sarcasm, even as he refused to expound.
“Um…yeah. Other than you’ve got to have some. Any ideas, preferences?”
“I don’t even know. If things are desperate enough, we batted around the idea of creating a playlist and borrowing some speakers to hook up to a phone. We’re pretty limited on options, now that we have zero money.”
“No, no, no. You can’t use phones and a speaker,” Trevor insisted. “This isn’t a house party at the lake and you don’t have zero money. That’s where our help comes in. How do you feel about using the best DJ in the area?”
Lance’s eyes widened for a split second. “DJ Knight?”
“That’s the one.”
“There’s no way we can afford him. He’s the best.”
Brooke and Dorian returned as if on cue.
“I know the guy; he’s a buddy of mine. If I can get a deal, would you like him to handle the music at your prom?”
Brooke’s glare could’ve cut through steel. “He’s the most expensive DJ around.”
She would probably take great pleasure in throttling him as soon as Dorian and Lance were gone, but the kids were hoo
ked on the idea, and Trevor could get him at discount. So long as DJ Knight was available.
“Do you think he’s available on such short notice?” Lance asked.
Trevor nodded. “That’d be the catch, but I’ll call him and see what I can do.”
“What if this prom ends up being the best one ever?” Dorian positively glowed as she grabbed Lance’s arm. “Come on, I want to show you the garden outside. You’re going to die.” She dragged Lance to the garden.
Brooke leaned in to Trevor’s shoulder, her voice barely a hiss. “Now you’ve gotten their hopes up. What happens if you can’t follow through?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
“That’s what worries me. You’re filling their heads with all these grand ideas and we haven’t discussed what kind of budget we’re working with. You’re talking about real flowers and in-demand DJs and who knows what else you offered up while I was gone. Four-course meal?”
Trevor turned to her. “Breathe. It’s fine.”
“We need to discuss the budget. You’re talking about dinner and I’m worried we won’t even be able to afford the good punch from Tanner’s. You do know the school has no money. Zero dollars. Jolie and Honeywilde are footing this entire bill.”
“You sound like my brother.”
“Then your brother is a wise man.”
“We’ll have the money. As long as we aren’t serving filet mignon or hiring Beyoncé to sing, the budget is there.” He was pretty sure anyway. A little finagling might be necessary, but they’d be close enough.
Twin lines appeared between her dark eyebrows, a scowl marring that beautiful face.
“Seriously, it’s fine. Honeywilde is giving more than enough to cover music and flowers, and I’m not even taking into account what Jolie contributes.”
The color drained from Brooke’s face again, the scowl slowly morphing into a look of mild terror.
“What is it? What’s that look about?”
The Sargent stare was back, no words, just the shadow of panic in her eyes.
“You look like you’re freaking out and that’s freaking me out.”
Finally, she spoke. “We need to discuss this budget, sooner rather than later. Like, as soon as they leave.”
“Does this mean you’re officially accepting my help?”
“I—Yes, of course. I asked you to help days ago.”
He had to chuckle. “Actually, no, you didn’t. I simply went ahead and started helping. If you’ll remember, you didn’t even invite me over today. I asked when the prom chairs were showing up and told you I’d be here.”
“What? That’s not—” Brooke froze midsentence, the slow realization playing out across her face. She glanced away, a faint pink coloring her cheeks. “I thought I’d asked.”
He took her elbow and tugged her toward the garden. “Doesn’t matter. Now that we’ve got this whole partnership thing in full swing, we can have our official meeting as soon as we’re finished here. Everything is going to work out fine.”
Brooke muttered under her breath again. “That’s what you think.”
Chapter 10
Trevor put on a smile and murmured from the side of his mouth as they approached Dorian and Lance. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What am I missing?”
Only the fact that Jolie’s contribution was probably a quarter of what Honeywilde could donate. If that.
Trevor was running around with delusions of prom grandeur while she was wondering if they could get away with popcorn and punch for hors d’oeuvres.
She had no choice but to fess up. “Let’s talk when they leave.”
Dorian had Lance cornered near a trellis, hands flailing in animated gestures as she talked about something.
“Hey.” She turned as they got near. “We were just talking. This is going to end up being more amazing than that other venue ever thought about being.”
“I think so too.” Brooke’s insides twisted. That’s what she wanted, from the moment she agreed to this project. Unfortunately, the reality of her situation crept closer and closer every day, its ugly friend—guilt—following close behind. “We’ll touch base and meet again, say, the day after tomorrow?”
“Perfect. I’ll give you my number and you can let us know if you get an answer on food and music before then.”
That seemed highly unlikely.
Dorian flung out her arms to hug Brooke and Trevor. “I can’t wait to hear. I never thought I’d be this excited about our prom again.”
“Yes, thank you. Both of you.” Lance offered his hand in another formal shake.
The two of them turned to go, both happy—in their own way. Cute and unjaded by life, even after losing thousands of dollars, and the faith of their classmates, in an instant.
Somehow, she and Trevor had to make this prom phenomenal for them. They were good kids who’d obviously put their heart and soul into the prom that died. They deserved their dream. Not popcorn and punch, but an actual formal function. If it meant having a yard sale to fund it, or selling her car, Brooke couldn’t let them down.
“You guys are the best!” Dorian waved on the way out.
As soon as they were gone, Trevor took Brooke’s arm and led her to the white arbor at the far end of the garden. “I get the feeling we should have that official meeting now, don’t you? Let’s talk budget.”
Goody. Time to talk about how her side of the partnership had little to offer beyond a setting. Yay.
They sat and, for a moment, she worked very hard at smoothing out her slacks and avoiding Trevor’s steady gaze.
But she couldn’t deny reality forever. She’d tried it in her marriage, and the tactic hadn’t worked then either.
“I…I don’t think the funds that Chateau Jolie can contribute to this project will quite match what Honeywilde is contributing,” she said.
Trevor lifted his eyebrows, urging her to continue.
“You know, depending on what Honeywilde plans to spend. When I met with Roark, he didn’t speak exact numbers, so…” Maybe she’d luck out and they could keep everything vague, and Honeywilde would pay for most of it.
Miracles happened all the time.
“I’ve been given a budget of two thousand to work with,” Trevor said.
So much for a miracle.
“Roark would prefer I not max that out, but he’ll get over himself if I do. I know the kids lost almost eight grand from their ticket sales, but we don’t have to pay for a location rental anymore—thanks to Jolie—and, if we have about a four-thousand-dollar total budget, that’s more than enough to cover food, music, decorations, and everything else.”
“Yeah. See…that’s the thing. Jolie doesn’t exactly have two thousand dollars to put in.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Not even close.”
“Roark doesn’t know this, does he?”
“He never asked. Like I said, exact numbers weren’t mentioned at that first meeting. I think he assumed that we would go in dollar for dollar, and it’s been a whirlwind since, and—”
“And you just let him believe whatever.”
“Yes.”
“How much were you planning to put in?”
“We can probably donate, I don’t know, realistically? Somewhere around a thousand dollars. Probably.”
“Probably?”
“Definitely.” The chateau needed the money in its operating account, especially if she had to pay her attorney to stave off the wolf. “Less is better. If possible.”
“Less?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then, in that case, let’s say we have under three grand to work with.”
“Which is nowhere near enough for the things you were talking about today. Flowers and music and steak and lighting.” She flailed her hands out, coun
ting off all the things he’d mentioned. “I want these kids to have the best, but we can’t afford all of that.”
He took her hands, cradling them in his. “It’s okay. Breathe. We don’t need steak. We nix the flowers unless Brenda can cut us a deal, and we order some trays of chicken fingers instead of a sit-down meal.”
How was he so calm about all of this? Sure, he didn’t have an ex-husband looming in the wings, trying to take away a chunk of his family’s business, but he was still preternaturally chill for someone who’d learned they have about half the budget he’d thought.
“Chicken fingers are a long fall from what they had planned at that place in Newton. And what you had planned five minutes ago. I want to give these kids more than chicken nuggets.” The guilt chewed at her from the inside out.
“Yeah, well, that place in Newton shut down and these kids know that dream is gone. They’ll be happy with whatever they get.”
“But you heard Dorian. She thinks this is going to be even better. She used the word ‘amazing’ about a dozen times.”
“And it can be amazing. But we’re going to have to get real creative, real quick.”
With a groan, she leaned forward, burying her head in her hands. “You’re so calm and positive. Meanwhile I’ve been hiding the truth, but you’re not even mad. It’s making me dizzy.”
“Hey.” Trevor placed his hand on the center of her back. “This isn’t your fault. You’ve got nothing to feel bad about. You’re helping these kids out in a major way. They’d be dancing in a field somewhere if it weren’t for Jolie. So what if you can’t pitch in two or three grand on top of giving them this awesome place to have their dance? You’re doing plenty.”
“It’s not that. It’s…” Ugh. She couldn’t blurt out her envy of Honeywilde, or that she didn’t want them to overshadow Jolie or what she was doing. Her distress was for partially selfish reasons. She owned that, but she didn’t want Trevor to know.
“What?” He leaned forward too, his face right beside hers. “How can you possibly feel guilty about offering up your hotel and pitching in almost a grand on top of that? We’ll make it work. I promise.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
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