Well Played (Well Met #2)(32)

He shrugged again. “Some people are good at cooking. I’m really good at picking up takeout.”

“Everyone’s good at something,” Simon said absently from the other end of the table. He frowned at his laptop before looking up at Mitch. “Speaking of which, how are the acts coming?” Simon was holding down the Faire-planning end of things while Emily took care of the wedding stuff. They were a list-making power couple.

“It’s getting there,” Mitch said. “There are a few that I still have to confirm, and a good seventy-five percent still have to send in their contracts, but I’m sure it’ll work out fine. It always does, right?”

“Well, yes.” Simon’s frown didn’t go away. In fact, the crease between his eyebrows deepened. “But not without effort. You’ll be able to stay on top of it, right?”

“Well . . .” Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. “Here’s the thing. Baseball season is winding down, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got a shot at State this year. I’ve really got to concentrate on my guys right now. I mean, I’ll do what I can, but . . .”

Simon sighed. “Okay.” His eyes sharpened and he pinched the bridge of his nose; he was thinking hard. “Okay,” he said again. “I suppose I can take that part over, so you can . . .”

“No, you can’t.” Emily’s eyes were just as sharp. Bridezilla or not, the closer it got to go time, the more stressed out she’d become.

So I jumped in, to try and diffuse some of her tension. “What about Chris?” As the words came out of my mouth I realized that she should be here. Didn’t she help organize Faire every year?

But Simon and Emily shook their heads in tandem. “She’s still in Florida,” Emily said. “With her mom.” She clicked through the calendar app on her phone. “She comes back in June, so she can help with rehearsals at least.”

Mitch sucked in a breath. “Yeah, I need someone to take this over before then.”

“Okay,” Simon said. “I’ll see if I can . . .”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Emily said. “You have wedding stuff to do. We’re meeting with the bakery soon, and we still have a million little things to decide on. Like, you know, what you’re wearing.”

“I’ve got a kilt you can borrow,” Mitch said cheerfully. Emily snorted, and even Simon cracked a smile.

“No one’s checking out my knees at my wedding,” he said.

“I’ll do it,” I said.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “What, check out my knees?”

“They’re not that great,” Emily tsked. “Sorry, hon. Your strength really lies in your leather pants.” She looked thoughtful. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married as Captain Blackthorne? My mom would love to see you in that hat.”

“No.” Simon’s voice was stern, but his eyes warmed as he looked at his fiancée. “I’m not getting married dressed as a pirate. That’s final.”

I couldn’t believe this. They’d all completely lost the thread of the conversation. Was this Opposite Day? How was I the only one who cared about Faire right now? “What I meant was, I’ll do the entertainment stuff.” I looked over at Mitch. “It’s just down to confirmation, right?”

“Yep,” Mitch said. “Almost everyone’s booked, like I said. Once we get the contracts, it’s just a matter of confirming rooms for the ones who need them and sending them their confirmations. We have a deal with a couple hotels and split the cost with the performers fifty-fifty. And it’s not even that many. Most of these guys camp in RVs. It’s just a few that use the hotel.”

“I know that,” I said. I probably said it a little too quickly, but I was pretty familiar with at least one of the hotels, and at least one of the acts who took advantage of our offer of rooms. A thrill had started taking hold in my chest the moment I’d volunteered for this. It didn’t make sense: Dex had nothing to do with contracts and hotel reservations. His cousin Daniel was the one who handled that minutiae. But there was still a part of me that was excited to see the Kilts listed as performers. Confirmation that he was coming back into my life. My real life.

If Mitch noticed my uncharacteristic eagerness, he didn’t say. “Yeah, so that’s basically it. You think you can handle it?”

I waved a hand. “No problem. Do you have a list of what you’re still waiting for?”

“Yep. Here . . .” He pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and sent me a text, judging from the answering beep that came from my phone in my bag hanging on the chair behind me. “That’s the password to the email account; just about everything is in there. I’ve got a spreadsheet with everything else. I’ll email that to you tonight.”

“That sounds perfect.” I wasn’t sure why I was so impressed at Mitch being that organized. It was easy to think of him being the fun guy who shoved tequila shots in my direction at Jackson’s, but the man coached football in the fall and baseball in the spring. Of course he was organized.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Simon’s words were careful, but I caught the meaning behind them. He knew, Emily knew, hell, probably Mitch knew, that I wasn’t exactly stellar when it came to organization and planning. It was a weakness, and something I wanted to get better at. I was great at big-picture stuff, and I could tell when things were going wrong, but details overwhelmed me. I wasn’t great at figuring out what puzzle pieces I needed to make that big picture happen.