Page 27 of Dear Rosie

I pick up another one.

When I was hanging out with Maddox earlier, I not so subtly asked him about the caterer, which is how I found out that my curvy little Rosalyn is the owner of the catering company.

Not that it makes a difference in how attractive I find her, butbeing a business owner is hot. And it’s a good bit of information to know.

“What’s your deal?” Tony asks, eyes narrowed, bringing me back to the moment.

“No deal.” I take a bite of the second inside-out s’more. “Just wondering how I’m gonna get the caterer to call me.”

“You got a party coming up?”

“No…” I trail off and think about his question. “Huh. Well, that could work.”

Tony lifts a brow. “Should I even ask?”

I smirk at my friend. “Probably not.”

SEVEN

ROSALYN

“This is for you.” Hannah holds out a bottle of champagne.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” I try to refuse. She’s already given us a bigger tip than the last two events combined.

“I must. We have too much left, and your team killed it tonight.” She practically shoves the bottle into my hands.

Reluctantly, I accept the champagne. “Well, thank you. It was an easy event to work.”

It really was. No one was rude. Even the drunk people were friendly. And everyone loved the food.

“Glad to hear.” Hannah smiles. “Now excuse me while I go wrangle everyone who’s still left.” She shakes her head. “Swear they’ll be here another two hours.”

Darkness has completely fallen outside, and the inside of the house, even though everyone has mostly stayed outside, is set for the party mood—all the lights are on low, even in the kitchen.

I eye the bottle.

It’s awfully tempting. Especially after the suddenguestappearance today.

Presley, the only one of my crew still here, takes the bottle from my hands and yanks the cork out.

The pop is loud in the quiet house.

I laugh. “Thirsty?”

“Boss.” Presley lifts her brows. “If you don’t drink this willingly, I’m going to waterboard you with it.”

I grimace, imagining bubbles up my nose. “Fine.”

She nods and pulls a coffee mug out of the cupboard.

Presley fills it, then hands it to me. “I know the boss lady gave it to us to drink, but this way, guests who leave won’t think you’re getting drunk on the job.”

“I knew I liked you,” I tell my employee before taking a sip.

Her expression turns smug. “Obviously.”

I take another, larger, sip. “You having some?”

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