Charity Booth

Kevin's office smelled faintly of peppermint and printer toner, the blinds half-drawn against the glare of downtown Dallas. He gestured to the chair across from him—the one clients usually sat in—and Emily perched on the edge like it might eject her at any moment. "You ever been to the county fair?" he asked, spinning a pen between his fingers.

Emily's brows knitted. "Well sure, every year since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Rodeo, funnel cakes, the whole shebang." She hesitated. "Why?"

Kevin grinned, tapping the pen against a glossy brochure on his desk. "Silver Financial's sponsoring a booth this year. Proceeds go to the children's hospital." He leaned forward, elbows on the desk. "And I want *you* to run it."

Her mouth fell open. "Me? But I've only been here three months!"

"That's exactly why," Kevin said, chuckling at her panicked expression. "You're fresh. You're relatable. And let's be honest—" He waved vaguely at her sundress. "You're the human equivalent of a golden retriever puppy. People'll donate just to see you smile."

Emily flushed pink to the roots of her blonde hair. "I—what kinda booth?"

"Whatever you want," Kevin shrugged. "Car wash, bake sale—hell, last year Merrill Lynch did a dunk tank." His eyes lit up suddenly. "Actually..."

"No way," Maggie interjected from the doorway, balancing a stack of files on one hip. "You are *not* putting our Emily in a dunk tank."

Kevin spread his hands innocently. "I'm just saying, for charity—"

"With her in a *bikini*? Please." Maggie rolled her eyes. "Half the county would line up with baseballs."