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I sighed again, wrapping Brandy’s apron around my waist. “Yeah, I’ll tend to her tables.”
Relief washed over him. “Thanks, Remy.”
“No prob.”
As I made my way back to the floor, I pulled Brandy’s waiter book out of her apron pocket, the inside pocket already stuffed with cash and her notepad scribbled with orders I couldn’t read. The teenage hostess blushed and stammered as she showed me the floor chart.
“Shit,” I whispered on inspection.
Because my cousin’s table just so happened to be in my section.
I straightened up and bent my neck to crack it. Only way out is through.
With a sigh, I put on a fake smile and wandered in their direction. Cass’s face quirked as I approached, then crinkled into a frown when she saw the waiter book in my hand and an apron tied around my waist. The look on her face distinctly said, Seriously?
“Hi, folks,” I started. “Brandy had a family emergency, so looks like I’ll be takin’ care of y’all tonight. Need a minute, or are you ready to order?”
Davis looked around the table. “I’m ready if you are.” He smiled up at me. “Hey, Remy. Heard you had an interesting day.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Jessa drained her glass.
“More wine?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she answered politely.
Henry gave me another of those friendly smiles. “You’re one of the groomsmen, right?”
“Bridesmaid. Cass thinks she’s funny,” I deadpanned.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Henry, the best man.” He stuck out his hand for a shake, and I obliged, paying close attention to his grip. Annoyingly, he passed—not at all soft, but not too tight, just the right amount of force. The virtual Goldilocks of handshakes. “I heard Jessa’s staying with you.”
She stiffened. “I think you meant shackled.”
I rankled at her disdain. “Aww, come on, Duchess. I’m not all bad.”
“Just partly?”
“So you do get it.”
“What percentage, would you say?”
I bobbed my head and glanced at the ceiling. “‘Bout sixty-forty.”
“Is sixty the good or the bad?”
At that, I gave her my most charming smile. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
Cass rolled her eyes so hard, I was pretty sure she saw Mr. Greer picking steak out of his teeth behind her.
“So, how about dinner?” I prompted, pen at the ready.
They ordered, ladies first, Henry last by my design. And when they were through, I checked on Brandy’s other tables and headed for the computer to get it all going.
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t care for Henry. Nothing about him seemed insincere, nothing suspicious. In fact, I didn’t get anything but good vibes from him. Yet here I was, fantasizing about dumping him out of his chair so I could sit in it myself. I’d caught Jessa looking at him like he was Jesus with that pretty flush in her cheeks. She’d dressed a little smarter for the weather in a striped dress that made my head hurt for all the zig zagging black-and-white stripes. The neat little collar circled the long, white column of her neck, topped by a golden bun at her nape. Even without seeing her face, you could tell she was something different. Maybe it was written in the proud line of her shoulders or the arrow of her back—stiff, but not stuffy.
And all I wanted to do was unwind her. I imagined it was a secret sort of pleasure to catch a glimpse of something that tight when it’s come undone. An image of her blasted into my mind—Jessa flushed and dewy, eyes closed and hair spread across my pillow, her face soft and satisfied, her naked chest rising and falling with every?—
