1
Ensley
“Talk about a year we’ll never forget!” Jordan exclaims as she gets into my car.
Once she’s in, we head on our way to the radio station. “Tell me about it. We’ve made more money this past year than we have in the prior seven years combined.”
All it took was planning a party and having the right people in attendance, which was the Valentine’s Day ball in Raleigh for the mayor’s daughter. After that evening, we booked up solid. We even planned a few weddings here and there. Those aren’t exactly what we’re known for, but I’ll still prepare them. One day, I’ll be able to plan my own. I’ve been envisioning it my entire life. What Jordan and I do love most is the Halloween season. Masquerades and costume parties are my specialty. I have a soft spot for them. Maybe it’s because my parents made it one of the best times of my life growing up. My mother would paint my face to go with whatever costume I had picked out, we’d decorate Halloween cookies, and then Halloween night, we’d hit all the haunted houses in the area. They keep waiting for me to have kids so they can spoil them as they did me. Unfortunately, I’m thirty-two years old and have yet to meet my soulmate and start my own family.
“Last weekend’s party was pretty epic,” Jordan says, drawing my attention away from my inner thoughts.
“Yes, it was,” I agree.
She snorts and looks over at me. “And I still think you’re crazy for turning down Brent Davidson. He’s the freaking running back for the Carolina Cougars. If I wasn’t married…”
I roll my eyes. “He’s a womanizer, Jordan. The last thing I want is to be in the tabloids like all his other conquests. I feel sorry for all the women he dupes.” Don’t get me wrong, the man is not only famous, but he’s gorgeous. We had the privilege of planning the team’s Halloween party this past weekend. We made five figures from that one party, and they asked us to plan their Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve gatherings as well. Never in my life would I have thought I’d be making as much money as I am doing what I love.
Jordan sighs. “Yeah, it’d probably be bad for business if you got mixed up with him. It’d make for planning their next parties very awkward.”
“Exactly.” I nudge her with my elbow. “Although it was nice being flirted with.”
She narrows her gaze, giving me that mischievous grin of hers. “I seem to recall a little more than flirting going on at the masquerade party we put together last month where someone in this car mixed a little business with pleasure.” Her eyes widen. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to get it on with Brent. You’re still hung up on your mystery man, aren’t you?”
Groaning, I smack a hand to my forehead. “Please don’t remind me of my indiscretion. I let a little intrigue cloud my judgment. It’s never going to happen again.”
Jordan fans herself. “Well, whoever it was behind the mask had an amazing body and sexy hair. I can’t believe you didn’t get his name.”
“That was the whole point. We didn’t want to know each other’s names.” The masquerade party was for one of Charlotte's biggest architectural firms held at one of the nicest hotels downtown. The owner had all of his employees from both the east and west coasts come in. There were hundreds of people. All decked out in formal wear and masks. When the mysterious man with the striking gray eyes came my way, I couldn’t seem to tell him no. I didn’t want to say no. A round of drinks turned into another and another. The next thing I knew, we snuck out of the ballroom to a hotel room upstairs and made a night of it. What I loved most about him was how attentive he was to me. He made sure I enjoyed myself. By three o’clock in the morning, I was exhausted, but I slipped out before I could fall asleep.
Jordan releases a heavy sigh. “Oh, to be single again. Sometimes I wish I had done spontaneous things like you. It sounds so exciting.”
I shrug. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” I say, even though I’m sort of lying. The night I had with my mysterious man was one of the best times I’ve ever had. Would I like to do it again? Most definitely. “I’d give anything to find the man I’m supposed to be with,” I add. “Maybe get married and have children. I’m not getting any younger.”
“Please, you look amazing. And thirty-two is not old; it’s prime time. I swear, every year you get more and more beautiful. I’d kill for your auburn hair and bright green eyes. Not to mention, your boobs look amazing in those skintight dresses you wear to the parties.”