Page 7 of Hard Rock Heat
"Good forher."
From the look on Gerald's face he was clearly comparing his daughter, the doctor, to me, the girl who ran around making sure there was a napkin on everyplate.
"The first course will be served soon, if you don't mind mingling for now," I told him. "I've put you up front near the bar." Because I knew he would have insisted on being placed there if Ihadn't.
He patted my arm and chuckled. "That's why you're myfavorite."
I returned it with a polite laugh as we said ourfarewells.
"For someone who hates these events, you sure do seem chipper," Hope said when he wasgone.
"Part of the job," Isaid.
"So you're good at faking it, is what you're saying?" Damon interjected with agrin.
I snapped my head around to glare at him. Helaughed.
"I'm going to hit the men's room." Damon stood from the table. "I hope I don't miss anything riveting while I'm gone," he said, before saunteringaway.
I clenched my butter knife in my fist. "I'm going to kill thatman."
"Please don't," Ian said, amused. "You'll get blood stains all over this nice whitetablecloth."
Some of the tension left myshoulders.
"I know he's a handful, but he just likes to see you all riled you up," Ian continued. "It's histhing."
I groaned. "Don't tell me your brother sees me as some kind ofchallenge. I'm not playing hard to get. I honestly hate hisguts."
Ian grinned. "That's why he likes you somuch."
"Likes totortureme, you mean," I muttered under mybreath.
The speaker finished his speech and sat down. Wait staff began bringing out the bread and butter. We had fifteen minutes until the next person went up onstage.
Ian and Hope chatted to each other quietly, holding hands discreetly under the table. I kept an eye on the room. I noticed some of the tables were already out of water. I flagged down one of the servers to make sure the pitchers were refilled as soon aspossible.
Those were the kinds of minuscule details most people missed. No one noticed when an event went well. They only noticed when something wentwrong.
It was my job to make sure that didn'thappen.
We were already on the soup course when I realized Damon wasn't back yet. An itchy sort of sensation went up my spine. What if he had snuck into the kitchens to steal the booze? What if he was hitting on the impressionable young women who were working as wait staff? There were dozens of things that man could be getting up to, and none of them weregood.
"I need to go check on something," I announced to the table. I placed my cloth napkin on my chair and walked calmly to the nearestexit.
My first instinct was to check the kitchens, but as I made my way towards the back of the building, I stopped in mid-stride. My mouth popped open when I sawDamon.
"What the hell are youdoing?"
"Huh?" Damon turned his head a fraction of an inch. He barely glanced in my direction, continuing to type on hisphone.
"You're sitting on a tabletop multi-touchtablet!"
He glanced down briefly at oversized tablet he was perched on. His butt was pressed against the icon for a spreadsheetapp.
"What the hell is a tabletop whatever-touch tablet?" heasked.
"It's not a place for you to sit! It's a workstation, not anarmchair!"
