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Corbin is delivering the keg I ordered from the brewery and is bringing up the ten racks of ribs I ordered from Butts on the River.
Everyone kicked in twenty each for the food, and I covered the beer and other supplies.
Just as the girls return and we get the fire going, Scooter shows up with two girls who are staying at the hotel.
“What are you doing, bringing people from the resort back here?” I ask him out of earshot of the two.
“They were looking for something to do tonight.”
“You have to stop hitting on the guests, Scooter, or Langford is gonna have your ass,” I warn.
He scowls. “Why? They’re of age and looking for a good time. They aren’t really here to ski. They’re here to wear their cute outfits, take selfies while drinking cocoa by the fireplace for Instagram, and get attention. They want to be seen and hit on.”
“Still a no,” I repeat.
“Didn’t you and Clay have drinks with guests the other day?”
“Yes. One drink. In the bar of the hotel. We didn’t bring them to the staff quarters or go to their rooms.”
He throws his hands in the air. “Come on, Morris. Haven’t you seenDirty Dancing?”
“Dirty Dancing? Are you serious?” I ask.
“As a fucking heart attack. We work at a mountain resort. It’s a fact that women come to these places to make out with the hot staff.”
“I hate to break it to you, lover boy, but you’re no Patrick Swayze.”
“That’s fine. You can be the pretty boy who ends up with the good girl. I’ll take the filthy sister who wants a romp with the unscrupulous bad boy,” he says.
“Listen to you, using big words in the correct context,” Joanna says as she comes up behind him with a plastic grocery bag dangling from her wrist and carrying a box of Solo cups.
He looks over his shoulder at her. “Hey, even one of the girl staff was knocked up by the handsome bad boy,” he replies, blowing her a kiss.
“Gross,” she moans.
“Fine. I’ll escort them back to the resort. You know, sometimes, you’re a real drag, man.”
“He is not. He’s just looking out for the family business,” Joanna says, defending me.
“Being responsible sucks,” I say as he goes to round up the girls, who do seem to be enjoying themselves.
“Yeah, imagine having to do Zoey’s job.”
“Where is she anyway?” I ask.
“She’s getting the rest of the stuff out of the truck. Where do you want these?”
I take the box from her and set it on the table I borrowed from the mess hall. She unloads paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils from the bag.
“Seeing as we’re off duty tomorrow, we stopped at the liquor store and picked up the stuff to make party punch for those who don’t want beer.”
“What is party punch exactly?” I ask.
She grins as she drops my keys into my hand.
“A lethal concoction that tastes so good going down you don’t realize you’re three sheets to the wind until it’s far too late.”
“Sounds dangerous,” I surmise.
