Chapter Thirteen Randall
Since Elise’s mom is expected to supervise the silent auction and her daughter is her official plus-one, I arranged to meet them at the fundraiser. I’m wearing my best dark blue suit. It’s custom fit and yet, for some reason, it’s tight tonight. Even my skin feels too small.
A gift basket with tickets and Mavericks swag sits snug against one arm. When I give my name to a person wearing a headset outside the hotel ballroom, she flaps her fake lashes.
“Mr. Haughland, we’re so happy to have you. Mrs. Chen asked me to take you to the silent auction table, if you’ll follow me please.”
I nod, my attention snagging wherever there’s a flash of red.
We walk through a ballroom with a jazz band playing in one corner, the ambient music accompanying the sound of clinking glasses and friendly chatter. A table on the far end, guarded by actual freaking security guards, displays the silent auction goods. Some are gift packages as big as a toddler, while others are descriptions propped up by a fancy picture frame.
There’s one that’s a full poster with the backdrop of London. The framed description reads:
Two roundtrip tickets from Columbus, Ohio to London, England
Four-night stay at The Tower Hotel
Two tickets to the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford.
Starting bid: $5,000
I lean down and write on the bidding sheet.
“Ahem,” the headset girl clears her throat to get my attention. She leads me to a woman wearing a long black dress.
Geraldine turns around to greet me, opening her arms to exchange a friendly hug.
“Thank you, Randall! I’m so happy you could make it. I saved a spot for it in the middle.” She guides me to a section with a bidding sheet. “Should we start the bid at five hundred dollars?”
I don’t have the heart to tell her that regular season seats go for that amount, but playoffs are another level altogether.
“May I?” a guy addresses Geraldine. He takes the pen and writes $1,000 on the top bid line. That’s more like it.
“Good of you to make the donation, Haughland,” the man says, sticking his hand out. “Conrad Coates. I head the fundraising board.”
“Hi, good to meet you Conrad.” I’m friendly, although Geraldine rolling her eyes doesn’t escape my notice.
Conrad, however, is oblivious to Geraldine’s annoyance. He rubs his chin. I know this look. He wants to talk hockey all fucking night.
A few other guys who smell like whiskey and talk loudly gather around me. I answer their inquiries about the next series with vague gibberish. We’re a tight team, we find strength in adversity, blah blah. All the shit I could say in my sleep. While fawning over me, they’re also checking the bidding sheet. The price for the Mavericks tickets rises steadily.
I see Elise across the ballroom, briskly walking in my direction.
Not wanting her near the loud, claustrophobic group of men, I mumble, “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
We meet halfway. There’s a swell of pride in my chest knowing that, in a room full people, Elise homes in on me. She looks different, her cheekbones exaggerated and her eyes dark with makeup. This version of Elise is straight from a fashion magazine. I’m so taken by her beauty, we’re toe to toe before I notice the worry on her features.
Automatically, my arm wraps around her waist, and I offer my chest to lean on. “What’s wrong?”
“Walk with me for a minute?”
“Of course.”
She leads me behind a partition where there’s a metal door. We push past it to find ourselves in a bare hallway with rolling carts. Servers buzz around. We tuck ourselves against the wall.
“Thanks. I needed a breather. This dress got tighter since I last wore it.”
If by tight she means beautifully molded to show her curves, than yeah, that it is. Her shoulders look like porcelain against the red dress. Elise’s thick hair is twisted in an elegant style, soft tendrils escaping to brush against earrings that shine and dangle.
“You, however, clean up real well Randall Haughland.”
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from the most beautiful woman in that room.” Even with a ratty shirt and someone else’s jeans, Elise stands out. Tonight, she could stop traffic.
“That’s sweet. Thanks.” Elise presses her lips together. “I’m just so fucking pissed right now.”
“At who?”
She looks at her feet and stomps one of them. “At my mom. I understand how these events put her in a lot of pressure. The success of the auction is important to her, and I wouldn’t resent that except…” She pauses.
“You’re killing me, Elise. Except what?”
“Did she have to involve Miles?” Her hands shoot up in frustration. “I mean, seriously? I’ve made it clear that we’re over, and she never stops harping about him.”
Calculations come at lightning speed.
Miles is a man she is over but her mom keeps involving. He must be an ex-boyfriend and Geraldine’s choice for her daughter.
“Is he bothering you?” I ask through the vise on my windpipe. “Because I can straighten that out right fucking now.”
“No! No, it’s not that.” She shakes her head. “He’s, he’s not like that. Still, I don’t want to see him, and I hate that he’s part of this at all.”
“What is he doing here if you didn’t invite him?”
“He’s head of marketing for a travel brokerage. She hit him up for donations.” Elise shakes her head. “Probably the same way she sprung it on you. Ma is relentless when she sets her mind on something.”
“Were you with him right now?” I ask, hating every word of that question. “I mean, before you found me.”
“No, but I saw him talking to Ma. I could tell they were about to launch a missing person alert.”
“Want me to get you out of here?”
“I’m not running off. Just wanted to grab a minute, you know?”
“No need to explain yourself. I got you.”
Her smile is hesitant, lips red and glossy. “I realize you’ll have to go before the full dinner service, but can you stay with me for a while?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” I’m shocked how much I mean it.
With a nod and the clicking of heels, Elise leads the way back to the crowd. We grab drinks immediately. Champagne bubbles tickle my throat. When Elise’s lips touch her own glass, I can’t swallow.
I was distracted by her worry earlier. Now I’m simply and utterly distracted by her.
It’s taken less than two days of Elise returning home for my delusions to come crashing down. Delusions bolstered by funny pictures and kind messages and easy chatter. Friends without benefits, my ass. It’s a pledge that’s turned into a curse.
For weeks, I’ve told myself that Elise and I are building a strong foundation for friendship. The problem is, that foundation sits on top of something volatile and explosive. The effortless companionship we share is piled over the blood-thickening lust coursing my veins and hardening my cock.
I want her. I want her so fucking bad.