“What do you think?” Maggie adjusted her phone on the industrial, twelve-foot kitchen counter for Pineapple to gain a better view of the bite-sized appetizers in their little white parchment cups. The shiny metal trays, which held hours of her sweat and tears, splayed across the entire length of the countertop. “And I thought being a firefighter was tough.”

“That’s impressive.” Pineapple gave her a thumbs-up. “Wish I could try them all.”

“I wish you could too.” She puckered her lips into a pout. “I need my seasoned taste-tester to tell me if I need to add more tarragon to the mini-quiche or a shake of sugar on the chocolate eclairs.” She puffed her satisfaction out the side of her mouth like a true Frenchman. “Here. I’ll try this one for you.” She slowly placed a scallop fresh out of the oven on her tongue and sealed her mouth over the warm delight as she closed her eyes.

Pineapple grunted. “I’m looking away now.”

“Mm.” The creamy, delicate flesh of the scallop replaced the salty crunch of the toasted cheese as Maggie slowly bit down. “You are definitely missing out.” She opened her eyes to a blank wall. “Pineapple?”

“You finished torturing me?” He stepped back into the frame.

She laughed. Pineapple always brought sunshine to her soul. “I’ll make you these when I get back.”

“Hey, did you ever hear from my cousin?”

“Pineapple,” she scolded, accusation saturating her voice. “Did you give him my number?”

“You’re in a big city and all alone.” He shrugged. “I worry about you.”

“Well, if all goes well tonight, I’ll have to get used to being all alone in this big city.”

“When is your flight back to pack your bags for the move?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She waved a hand in the air. “I have a flight to Utah tomorrow afternoon. I need to be at work Monday morning. That one day will give me some time to unwind, and hopefully sleep all Sunday, because I sure haven’t gotten much sleep. I’ve been up since four this morning baking.”

“Stop by Sunday morning,” Pineapple encouraged. “I’m hosting a brunch for my family for Mother’s Day.”

“Of course you are. Always serving others.” She gave him a tender smile as she relaxed her elbows into the counter. “That’s why I think the world of you. Can I help you prepare the brunch?”

“I think you’ve cooked enough. Just stop by to meet my family and have a bite.”

She arranged the scallops on the platter. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Give me a ring later and let me know how the event went.”

Maggie gave him a shaka sign and pushed the end button. She pulled at the bottom of her long white chef’s jacket to adjust the fit. Her hair was up in it’s typical bun but controlled in a hairnet.

She reviewed the appetizers and desserts. With an hour remaining before the guests were scheduled to arrive, she had the food plated on their trays and ready to go out. All she needed to do was place the trays on their stands around the banquet room and she was golden. Silver had been a gem to work with. Maggie balled her fists with excitement. Dallas could be her next home.

“Howdy!” came Silver’s familiar sing-song greeting as she entered the kitchen. She stopped suddenly when she caught sight of the filled trays. “This looks amazing! But I must warn you.” Silver’s composure shifted to a motherly one as her chin tipped down and her eyebrows lifted. “The first rule of event planning states: No matter how thoroughly you plan an event, something always goes wrong.” She tapped her watch. “And nothing has gone wrong with the auction yet, so I’d better head back there after I help you place the trays.” She pointed to Maggie. “You’ll come over as soon as you finish up here, right?”

Maggie nodded.

“Good,” she said with a sigh. “Because this little quiet gathering here,” she pointed to the floor, “is nothing compared to the boisterous soiree you’ll find at the auction. You need to be at the auction to see if this is really what you want to do. If you still want to live in this world of bringing magic into people’s lives after the auction tonight, then we’ll sit down and talk tomorrow morning.”

Maggie folded her arms. “Nothing’ll change my mind.”

“Fabulous.” Silver nodded. “Now, you’ll want to wear an evening gown to the auction. Did you bring one?”

Maggie’s mouth went dry. “Evening gown?” she squeaked out as perspiration gathered on her upper lip. She’d never gone to prom or homecoming. She’d never even worn anything fancier than a cotton dress to church.

“I want us to blend in. We’re there as facilitators, not chefs.” Silver wrinkled her nose and scrunched her lips as she grabbed a tray and motioned for Maggie to follow her to the banquet room.

Maggie picked up a tray of eclairs and followed Silver to the carpeted room with its mosaiced ceiling, granite pillars, and crystal chandeliers that cast a thousand sparkles of soft light across the warm mustard room. At the entrance to the room stood an elegant circular table with a frosted crystal donations vase. An easel stood to the side of the table with simple and direct instructions on how to donate through a phone app in seconds. Framed photos of children with Muscular Dystrophy surrounded the vase. “You don’t get any classier than this,” Maggie said, setting her tray on a stand.

Silver blinked her freshly applied lashes as she lifted Maggie’s arms up from her sides by her wrists. “We’re close to the same size. I’ll drop off one of my dresses at your hotel on my way to the auction. I know just the one.” Silver winked. “You’ll look stunning in it.”

“Thank you,” Maggie responded with a whisper of gratitude as they walked back to the kitchen to retrieve their second round of trays.

As they arranged the remaining trays onto their respective stands, not a word was spoken. Maggie found herself speechless, which didn’t happen all that often. The only food they left in the kitchen were Maggie’s signature macarons. Per detailed instructions from the dating service, the macarons were to be wrapped in packages of one or two. The packages of one were to be given to the guests who remained single at the end of the evening as a sad consolation gift, and the packages of two—as a recognition of sorts to be shared together by those couples who paired together during the event. Maggie contemplated how she’d feel leaving alone at the end of the evening with a single macaron. Seemed like a twisted joke.

“Oh!” Silver exclaimed as she grabbed her purse from off the counter. “I almost forgot. I’ve got someone.” Her eyes wandered down to her side as if deciding how much information to share. “A prospective client will be stopping by shortly.” She tapped her watch. “But I can’t wait for him. Just find out what he needs, and we’ll discuss the details later.”

Silver bolted out the door, leaving Maggie to scratch the back of her neck and question aloud, “What he needs?” She picked up the sifter of powdered sugar she’d used to dust the cream puffs with as she leaned her back into the counter. She tapped the side of the sifter, watching the fine white powder waft through the air as she contemplated Silver’s riddle. “What who needs?”

“If you’re asking me?” a man boomed. “I need to find out who made these!”

Maggie jumped at the deep, sultry voice behind her, causing the powdered sugar to puff up one side of her face. She turned toward the banquet room as she blew the sugar she’d inhaled out her nose and mouth and blinked away the white powder now caked onto her lashes, causing her vision to cloud. By the amount of powdered sugar thrown into her face, she must’ve resembled Casper the ghost.

A heat of embarrassment blasted through her chest and settled in her cheeks when she saw the gorgeous colossus who had caused her to jump.

An elegant, clean shaven Hercules stood formal and erect in a black tailored suit with his hand outstretched to her in greeting. His long golden locks were pulled back behind his ears. She had a sudden urge to twist his curls in her fingers. It reminded her of a popular YouTube parody of how to properly do a man-bun. The muscular guy in the video demonstrates the proper hair-styling technique with his shirt off. She, and every other woman who enjoyed that video, didn’t watch it five times to learn how men accomplished that great feat, and yet that guy had nothing on this Hercules. This prospective client of Silver’s was gorgeous.

He cocked his head to one side and wrinkled his brow moments before he relaxed his shoulders and dropped his outstretched hand to his thigh for support as he bent forward in laughter.

Maggie reached for a kitchen cloth to wipe her face, finding enjoyment in his laughter. She should have been offended at how he laughed at her, but his laugh engaged her in a relaxed, familiar sort of way.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed out, swiping the tears of laughter from his eyes with the palms of his hands. “But thank you.” He shook his head as he regained his composure. “I really needed that to calm my nerves before I head into the lions’ den tonight.”

“Lions’ den?” she questioned, wiping her face with the thin cloth.

“Silver didn’t tell you? I’m a Titan.”

She nodded with a coquettish smile and a raised brow. “I can see that.”

“No.” He returned her smile with wink, causing her heart to race. “I’m a Texas Titan.”

The space around her suddenly grew ten times larger, or perhaps she shrunk down to the size of a mouse. He hadn’t been flirting with her, just stating a fact. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this embarrassed. Perhaps in sixth grade when that mean boy lifted her skirt on the playground. She gave that boy a bloody nose and never wore a skirt again.

He stepped around the counter to her, picking up another towel as he rounded the corner. Her respirations quickened as his seductive gaze rested on her lips. He had winked at her, but maybe it was a flirtatious wink and not a know what I’m saying? kind of wink like she originally thought.

“Here, you missed a spot.” He lifted the cloth as he took two more steps toward her. His feet shuffled then slipped on the powdery floor.

Instinctively, Maggie widened her stance, slapped her forearms in a crisscrossed manner to his, and grasped tightly to the thick muscle below his elbow as she bore down into her legs. She held him from falling all the way the floor, allowing him to regain his footing. Once he steadied himself, they simultaneously blew out a sigh of relief. With their arms still linked and his eyes settling back on her lips, they stood motionless—as if the moment were worthy of being cherished, or at least remembered.

He cleared his throat. “How did you do that?” he questioned with apparent surprise.

She shrugged, looking from side to side. “Do what?”

He loosened his grip on her arm, but she refused to let go of him and stop the flow of energy between them.

“How did you manage to pull me up?” He squeezed her arms gently. “I weigh more than twice what you do. How’d you pull me up instead of falling on top of me?”

She stood a little taller at his compliment. “Thanks. I’m sure you’re used to girls falling all over you, but like you said, I’m not that kind of girl.”

With him so close, she took the opportunity to examine his defined muscles. They rippled under his white fitted dress shirt like her grandmother’s washboard. Her eyes moved to his broad shoulders. Sugar must have sifted off her and onto him when he went down. “You have powdered sugar on your suit,” she said apologetically. “Here, let me get it off.”

She picked up a third cloth from the counter and began dusting off his suitcoat. The first two cloths were now settled peacefully on the floor with the menacing film of sugar. Good thing she’d bought a stack of fresh towels before the event.

He grabbed another cloth. “You missed a few areas on your face earlier.” He gently wiped the cloth across Maggie’s forehead, down the right side of her face and rested his fingers under her chin. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

Her face heated and her palms moistened at the realization that this gorgeous man was flirting with her. She hadn’t expected to find someone to swoon over this quickly, but here he was in front of her. She had never felt this strong of a connection with anyone before. The magnetic pull to him overpowered her, causing her body to lean in to his.

She slowly blinked, allowing her black lashes sufficient time to convey their message and rose up onto the balls of her feet as his face lowered. She rested her hand on his left shoulder as her other hand cupped his freshly shaven cheek. His skin was soft and creamy, as if it hadn’t seen wind or sun in months.

A zip of heat shot up her spine as she ran her fingers down his neck, examining the strong cut of his jaw and the faint cleft in his chin. Before his lips reached hers, she raised her eyes to his. His milk chocolate eyes had a familiar look to them.

Panic hit. “Selfish jerk-face?”

He wrinkled his forehead. “Sassy deli-girl?”

Maggie gasped. He looked like a completely different person with his locks tamed and no facial hair.

Heavy footsteps entered the kitchen. Maggie whipped her head to the sound.

A huge man entered the kitchen from the banquet room. “Sorry.” His shoulders slumped forward. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The jerk-face grunted as he took a few steps back from her. “You’re not interrupting anything, trust me.”

Maggie’s hands flew to her waist and her eyes narrowed. “About what I’d expect from a—”

“Hold on.” He held up his hand. “You mean a selfish, jerk-faced jock.” He bowed. “At your service.”

The jerk’s companion shrugged and shook his head. “Look, man. You can trust us with your little secret that you’re no ladies’ man. We never see you with anyone. It’s cool with us,” he motioned to the jerk and then to Maggie, “if you want to settle down with a nice, sweet girl.” His head bobbed from side to side. “Who may not be that…glamorous. No worries. We all do. It’s okay, man.”

Maggie crossed her arms and stared at him, contemplating if that was meant as a compliment or not.

When he caught her eye, he threw his hands out in front of his chest apologetically. “I think you’re amazing. And it’s not just because of your delicious food.” He teetered back and forth from one foot to the other. “Okay.” He nodded like a schoolboy. “It is because of the food. Do you have any more? It’s so good.”

Maggie took in a quick breath as the second panic round immobilized her. She coughed out, “More food?”

Jerk-face sprinted out of the kitchen with an, “Oh no.”

Maggie remained frozen. It couldn’t be. The event would be ruined. Not possible.

The jerk returned. “Yeah,” he said slowly as if hesitant to disclose a misdeed. “My buddies cleared out the appetizers. Just point me to the rest of the food and I’ll get it out there before any of the real guests show up.”

She blew out a long breath, slowly lowered herself into an Indian style seated position on the hard, sugar dusted floor, and closed her eyes.

“Deli girl?” he said as if petitioning where he could find more food.

“That was everything.” She took in a deep, calming breath and held up her pointer finger for him to give her a minute to think. For a split second she thought to give him her other finger, but she refrained. She could do this. She’d been in worse predicaments than this before. As a firefighter, she helped others through the worst day of their lives. She could help herself through this one. She clasped her hands together as she jumped to her feet from her seated position in one fluid movement.

He touched her arm. “I’ll call Silver and have her family—”

“No! Don’t call Silver.” Maggie shook his hand away. “I can do this.” She glared at him. “But it’s time for you to leave.”

He dipped his chin, accepting his banishment. “We’ll clean up on our way out.”

As he left the kitchen, she whispered to herself, “Because that’s what jerk-faces do, they abandon the damsel they’ve distressed.”

There was only one thing to do. Maggie went back down onto the floor, but this time she fell to her knees and asked for some much-needed assistance.

The door creaked back open. “Deli girl?” His voice held a kindness and sincerity completely unexpected.

Maggie jumped up to his quizzical gaze. “Yes?” She patted the white powder from off her black pants.

“Silver’s in-laws will be here with plenty of food in less than an hour.”

Maggie scowled as she shook a finger at him. “I told you not to call Silver!”

“I didn’t.” He gave her a wicked smile. “I called her mother-in-law. Good luck tonight, deli girl. I’d switch places with you if I could. I’m off to the selfish, jerk-faced, jock bidding block.” He said jerk-face in a mocking tone, as if she’d been childish in using those immature words.

They were immature words. The worst words that Maggie and her brother could come up with as kids to offend each other, and now those were the words that sprang to Maggie’s mind when someone ticked her off. When she was young, Maggie thought they were the naughtiest words in the dictionary, until her brother taught her the “F” word. Her mother was shocked when Maggie told her that her brother had called her the “F” word. Her mother immediately removed her shoe to threaten poor Daniel with—until she realized the word was freak.

Maggie would have laughed at jerk-face’s comical expression. He had contorted his facial muscles reminiscent of a prisoner on their march to the guillotine, but she was still livid at how the football players had eaten every crumb of food in ten minutes flat. How would she salvage the event?