I nod. “Okay.” He pats Owen on the shoulder and rushes out the door. “Hopefully, he’s all right.”
Owen smiles. “He’s fine. It’s probably just something going on at the station.”
Grabbing the papers, I’m about to hand them to him when the waitress comes back. She takes our food and drink orders and then disappears to the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to look at these options.” I slide the papers toward him. “I was told to do what I wanted for the Nightmare Ball, but personally, I don’t like making the firm decisions without going over them.” He flips through the pages, but I stop him on the menu options. “The hotel ballroom has been booked and it accommodates up to seven hundred people if you want the full dinner option. If not, you can have a thousand guests and have several cocktail tables scattered throughout. We can even do light bites and desserts for the same number as well. It all depends on how many people you want.”
Owen purses his lips as he takes a look at the options. “What do you think we should do?”
I shrug. “Personally, I like the light bites and dessert option. If you’re having a singles ball, I’m pretty sure the last thing these people want is to eat a bunch of food and get sweaty on the dance floor. They’re going to concentrate more on the open bar and mingling.”
There’s a slight tilt to his lips; it’s sexy as hell. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just do that then.”
I show him the paper with the DJ’s information on it. “And this guy is really good. Jordan and I have used him many times at our parties. He keeps the energy going and even gets out there and dances with everyone.”
Owen stacks up the papers and steeples his hands together on top of them. “I trust you, Ensley. I have no doubt this party’s going to be a success.”
The waitress comes over with our drinks and it’s not long after when she arrives with our food. We both got the broccoli cheddar soup in a bread bowl. It’s too hot to eat so I wave the steam off. I want to talk to him about the payment, but I don’t know how to bring it up.
“What’s on your mind?” Owen asks, staring curiously at me.
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “Just looked like you were deep in thought over something.”
Here I go. “Actually, I was. I think you paid me too much to plan this party. It’s not costing nearly five hundred thousand to plan. Not even close.”
His brows furrow. “So, what are you saying?”
My stomach is in knots. Never have I ever told someone they paid me too much. “I’m saying I should give you back some of the money. The party has been super easy to plan. It’s not like I’ve had to slave over it. I enjoy party planning and Halloween is my favorite. I don’t feel right making so much profit from it.”
Owen stares right into my eyes and smiles. “Wow. This is a first for me. It’s nice to know there are morally sound people in this world. In my business, you don’t come across many.”
“True,” I agree. “I’ve worked with plenty who don’t even want to pay me.”
Owen leans forward. “Tell you what, Ms. Anderson. I’m supposed to plan a charity function that takes place a couple days after the Nightmare Ball. I haven’t started on it yet so I could really use your help.”
“You’re not going to pay me any more, right?”
He holds out his hand. “Right. Do we have a deal?”
I shake his hand and the same feeling I had earlier when we touched runs straight to my heart. It’s like butterflies fluttering all through my chest and stomach. “Deal,” I say.
After we eat our lunch, Owen walks me to my car. It turns out he parked right beside me in a silver Range Rover. “So, tell me,” he begins, “are you coming dressed up for the Nightmare Ball?” He leans against his car with his arms crossed over his chest and smirking in that sexy grin of his. I swear, it feels like I know him from somewhere. I can’t put my finger on it, but I am not going to ask him.
“Of course. I don’t know as what yet, but masquerades are my favorite.”
His gaze drops to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “Do you actually get to enjoy yourself at the parties you plan or is it strictly work?”
Heat rises to my cheeks and I pray to God he doesn’t notice. Clearing my throat, I toss my purse into the front seat of my car and turn my head. “Sometimes,” I answer as honest as I can. “I’ll maybe have a couple of drinks.”