Harrison pondered her question for a moment. What did he know about Tristan? They were separated by more than just an eight-year age difference. They had different ideologies when it came to money, women and careers. Nor had they been close as kids. Their age differences meant the brothers had always attended different schools and Tristan’s free time had been taken up by sports and friends.
“He runs the family business since our dad semi-retired five years go,” Harrison began. “Crosby Automotive is a billion-dollar national chain of auto parts stores and collision centers in twenty states. We also have one of the largest private car dealership groups on the East Coast.”
“And you race cars.”
Her matter-of-fact tone carried no judgment, but Harrison imagined someone as no-nonsense as London McCaffrey wouldn’t view what he did in a good light. No doubt a guy like Tristan, who put on an expensive suit and spent his days behind a desk, was more her cup of tea. On the other hand, she had been engaged to a baseball player, so maybe Harrison was the one guilty of being judgmental.
“I’m one of four drivers that races for Crosby Motorsports.”
“Car twenty-five,” she said, doodling a two and a five on her legal pad before encircling the numbers with a series of small stars.
He watched her in fascination. “Yep.”
“I’ve never seen a race.” She glanced up, caught him watching her and very quickly set the pen down atop the drawing as if embarrassed by her sketch.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said. “I’m racing on Sunday in Richmond.”
“Oh, I don’t think...” Her eyes widened.
“It’s my last race of the season.” He made his tone as persuasive as possible.
London shook her head. “It’s really not my thing.”
“Then what is?”
“My thing?” She frowned. “I guess I don’t really have one. I work a lot, you see.”
“And that leaves no room for fun?”
“From what my friend told me about a racer’s schedule, I’d like to know when you slow down for fun.”
“You have me there. I’m on the go most of the year.”
She nodded as if that put an end to the topic. “So, how many people are you looking to invite to your brother’s birthday party?”
“Around a hundred.” He’d secured a list from his mother after realizing he’d better not show up to a party planning meeting empty-handed and clueless.
“And do you have a budget?” London had relaxed now that they’d returned to familiar territory and flipped to a clean page so she could jot notes.
“Keep it under ten.”
“Thousand?” She sounded a tad surprised, leaving Harrison questioning whether he’d gone too high or too low. “That amount opens up several possible venues. Of course, the timing is a little tight with it being the start of the holiday season. Did you have a particular date in mind?”
“His birthday is December fifth.”
“I’ll have Missy start calling around for availability.” She excused herself and went to speak to her receptionist.
Harrison barely had a chance to look at any of the several texts that had come in while they’d been talking before she returned.
“Are you thinking a formal sit-down dinner with cocktails before and dancing afterward or something more casual?”
“My mother insists on a formal event. But I don’t think dancing. Maybe a jazz band, giving people a chance to mingle and chat.” Harrison was even more relieved that he’d checked with his mother because he was able to parrot everything she’d suggested.
“You were smart to get her input,” London said, picking up on his train of thought. “I guess my last question for now is whether you had any sort of theme in mind.”
Theme? Harrison was completely stumped. “I guess I was just thinking it was his fortieth birthday...”
“A color scheme?”