And it would be festive. He’d dance a lot, probably with all the women at this very table, and hopefully with Willa and Van, too. He’d have a good time, and it was a good way to kick off the summer.
“Nate? Did you hear me?”
“Sorry, what? It’s noisy in here.” Brenda, the brunette who was sitting opposite him, was leaning across the table, her hazel eyes wide and intent on his face. She was an intellectual property rights lawyer, worked at his dad’s law firm actually. Was his dad in on this plot too, or had his mom just remembered Brenda from a company picnic or something? Whatever.
“I asked how you managed to get the summer off. I thought only teachers got to do that, not engineers.”
“That’s kinda weird, right? Unicorn’s gotten a lot bigger over the past decade or so, but when I started working there, it was still a start-up, and they’ve tried to hold onto some of those start-up perks. At least the ones that have proved to help them retain employees, which saves them money. Some stuff we’ve given up. We had to turn our arcade into more office space, but we’ve kept a super-flexible PTO policy, and the company still picks up the tab for takeout the nights we work late.”
“So they seriously let you just take the summer off? Or are you going to come back to a pink slip on your desk for being a slacker?”
Nate ground his molars together, but he tried to keep a smile on his face. “When I’m in the office, it’s not unusual for me to pull seventy-hour weeks. The director here will put me to good use, but giving tennis lessons at Firefly Falls isn’t exactly a full-time job. I’ll still be putting in some hours at Uni. And since I won’t have anyone to manage, I might even be able to get some real work done. How about you? My dad says the firm’s got more work than you can handle.”
Brenda launched into a litany of all the projects she was working on and the copious number of hours she was billing, and Nate half-listened, nodding and making appropriate facial expressions. He kept hearing her accusation of being a slacker echo through his head, though, and while Brenda probably didn’t realize it, she’d poked a sore spot.
Slacker? He busted his ass. He loved his job, but he was looking forward to working a reasonable number of hours during the day, to being outside instead of cloistered in an office building, and to being the best damn tennis instructor Camp Firefly Falls had to offer. No matter that was because he’d be the only tennis instructor.
Plus, his tennis game was getting rusty thanks to the long hours he’d been putting in without the payoff he’d hoped for. Willa’d be able to thrash him for sure, and that was just unacceptable. Not because of some sexist she’s-a-girl bullshit, but because of good old-fashioned sibling rivalry, dammit. If she was going to show him up in the education department with her PhD to his master’s and in the relationship department with her wife to his… Never mind. He could at least be the best at something.
And here came the salad course, which was awesome because he was hungry. He’d missed a lot of those absurd but delicious appetizers because he’d been chatting up the overflow well-wishers who were waiting to talk to his parents or Willa and Van. Plus, food would maybe slow down the chatter, give him a chance to clear his head of the irritation that was still scratching at him.
The greens were delivered, and he tucked in, enjoying the pears and figs mixed in with the pecans and goat cheese. The dressing was sweet, and he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Luckily, Georgina had thought of everything, and it was identified on the menu card at the table. Vanilla bean vinaigrette—who’d ever heard of such a thing? But it was tasty. The whole table was raving about it, except Stacey, whose plate was apparently lacking the secret sauce.
Nate flagged down one of the wait people. “Could we get a new salad here? This one doesn’t seem to have any dressing.”
“Actually, could I just have a side of it? I always take my dressing on the side.”
The waiter nodded and scurried off toward the kitchen, and then the conversation revolved around what exactly was an acceptable thing to put in a salad. People had very strong opinions about dried fruit, and Nate was firmly on Team Craisins. After a few minutes, a woman bustled toward them bearing a small metal cup.
She looked harried and hurried, her dark brown hair frizzing out into a halo around her hairline. The uniform she was wearing didn’t fit her quite right; the pants and vest were too small, and judging by the fade of the black, they were well-used and washed a million times. The too-small clothes did have the advantage of showing off the generous shape of her—rounded hips that made him salivate and a small peek of cleavage that he craved a better view of. Unexpectedly intriguing, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on why this woman had piqued his interest when the objectively attractive and accomplished women at his table had failed to do so. She was also older than most of the staff who’d been darting around—just about all of them looked like college kids fresh home on summer break who needed to pick up some cash. This woman was closer to his age.
When the waitress reached the table, she looked around, seeking the woman who’d requested the dressing. Stacey’s bracelets jangled as she raised her hand, and the waitress made her way between the closely spaced tables to hand over the nectar from the gods. Or from the kitchen, but with Camp Firefly Falls’ new chef Ginger in charge, it was basically the same thing.
Nate started to say thank you, but at the last second, the waitress swayed, her hand faltering, and then…
Yeah. Turned out when vanilla bean vinaigrette got dumped in your lap, it looked a whole lot like a puddle of jizz. At least most of the pictures had been taken so his mom wouldn’t murder him.
***
Shit, fuck, damn, and…whoa.
Ruby’s head spun again, and she had to lock her knees to keep them from buckling. She needed to breathe, otherwise she was going to pass out in addition to… Oh, shit. She blinked a few more times in an effort to make her world steady, and oh shit, she’d just dumped the salad dressing in some tux-wearing guy’s lap.
Judging by the surprised, handsome face that was gawking at her over his shoulder and the dirty blond hair that was artfully skewed, he was some relative of the bride. Maybe her brother? Whoever he was, he had a puddle of vinaigrette on his crotch, and the fancy-looking women on either side of him were both trying to clean it up with their napkins. Awkward.
“Don’t just stand there,” the redhead snapped. “Do something!”
Right. Do something. Standing there and bursting into tears probably wasn’t what she meant because that was the kind of thing that servers got fired for. The bad thoughts cascaded through Ruby’s mind and flowed into her lungs, making it hard to breathe. She was going to lose this job, in addition to the other jobs they had her scheduled for, and no one else would hire her as a server because she’d have shit for references, and no matter how many hours she begged for at Landry’s, it wouldn’t be enough to scrape together for—
“Miss?” A kind voice interrupted her catastrophizing. A kind male voice. “Miss? Are you okay?”
“Nate, she just ruined your pants. I don’t even think a dry cleaner will be able to get this out—”
The man—Nate, apparently—ignored the redhead’s concerns and looked right at Ruby. Really saw her. She’d been in retail and food service long enough to know the difference between when people saw you as a means to an end and when they saw you as a person. This was definitely the latter, and it pushed her closer to tears. Yes, he saw a person with those clear blue eyes that were set in a catalogue-ready face. Okay, so maybe Tux-y McDreamboat saw a person, but that person felt as though she was a disaster. Her hair had gone crazy from the humidity in the kitchen, she was sweating all over because her clothes were some crappy polyester blend and didn’t fit right anymore, and her face had probably drained of color, leaving only bright red splotches of humiliation on her cheeks. It would almost be better if he was hissing at her like the women on either side of him continued to do. At least then she wouldn’t have to suffer t
he fantasies that were darting through her head of this guy—this Nate—sweeping her off her feet and carrying her far, far away from here.
“I—” That was all she could get out before the dizziness overtook her again, and the little cup she was still clutching tumbled to the floor. She gripped his shoulder through his jacket so she wouldn’t join it.
The voices of the women harping at her blurred into the background as she closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself while the ground seemed to shift beneath her. When she was done, the man turned in his seat, put a supporting hand under her elbow, and stood.
He was tall. Like, she had to tip her head back to look at him, and that wasn’t something she had to do all that often, what with being five foot ten. So he was what—six two or so? And he was good-looking in that preppy-boy way. Which was more a turn-off than a turn-on because those boys were usually the ones who caused her problems—harassed her when she was just trying to do her fucking job, groped her because she was a townie and wasn’t that what she was there for, or otherwise acted like entitled schmucks.
This one was different. For the moment, at least. Although she still resented how she was enjoying the way he touched her. It was easier to ignore good-looking guys when they behaved badly, and she didn’t have time to daydream about men.
“Seriously, are you okay? You look like you’re going to pass out. Come on, let’s go outside. Get you some air.”
Normally she’d shake off any man who dared try to steer her anywhere, but she really would like to be outside, under the stars, instead of in here with the crush of hundreds of bodies packed into a small space. She also suspected that no one was going to argue with Blondie here, whereas if she tried to leave on her own, she’d get flagged down by half a dozen tables on her way out.
So she let him—Nate—help her. His hand moved from her elbow to the small of her back in a way that wasn’t creepy, but felt as though he would catch her if she did, in fact, faint. Please don’t faint, please don’t faint. You can’t afford to faint.
Once they were outside, Nate guided her to a bench on the veranda. Ruby sat, spread her knees and put her head down, willing the dizziness to pass. She half-hoped that once he’d aided in her escape, Nate would turn and get back to the festivities. He didn’t, though, but instead crouched beside her, his hand on the bench a few inches away from her thigh.
Even in her unfortunate state, she recognized that it was a nice hand. Big and just veiny enough, with a dusting of light hair. And either he’d done a super good job scrubbing up or he worked a cushy job because his nails were neatly trimmed and clean. His hand looked…capable. And maybe a little bit as though it belonged to James Bond because of the tux sleeve that was riding up past his wrist and the fancy-ass watch he had on.
Her brain must be shorter on oxygen than she’d thought because these were ridiculous ideas to be having. She’d never been a damsel in distress, and it was absurd to be thinking about what this guy’s hands might look like on her. What they might feel like.
Ugh, you’ve fucking lost it, Hudson. You sure you didn’t actually pass out back there and this is what you’re dreaming about while you’re unconscious on the floor?
When she finally felt like she wouldn’t swoon right off the bench, she sat up.
Nate was still crouched in front of her, concern stamped on his pretty-boy face in the form of creases around his eyes and brows. How was it that those lines made him more appealing? “Better?”
“Yes, thank you. And I am so, so sorry about your…pants. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning, I feel terrible. I—”
He waved her off with a flick of his hand and sat on the bench next to her. “Nah, no worries. I already spilled some Starry Night on myself, so I was going to have to get this sucker cleaned anyway. But are you okay? I seriously thought you were going to faint in there.”
Ugh, god, yes, she’d made kind of a scene, hadn’t she? Nate was being cool about it, which might help her not get fired, but this was not a position she enjoyed finding herself in. At the mercy of some rich boy’s good opinion.
“I’m fine, thank you.” She’d let her guard down and she should know better, but seeing the hurt on his face at her frosty tone needled something inside her. What would the harm be in being nice to someone who’d been kind to her? And truth be told, he was attractive, and when was the last time a good-looking guy had paid her attention without being a creeper about it? Too long ago.
Besides, he was here for a wedding, he’d be gone at the end of the weekend, and she’d never see him again. So she let herself smile. Smile at a man when she didn’t have to, when her livelihood didn’t depend on it. It felt good, and she liked the way his face lit up in return.
“Sorry. This is my second shift today, and I’ve been on my feet since seven a.m. I might be a little worn out.”
He nodded and then got up. “I’m gonna grab you a glass of water. You want something to eat, too?”
“Uh, no. Thanks.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. Who did this guy think he was, Prince Charming?
Ruby checked her watch and winced. She’d been out here for more than five minutes. Surely her boss and the other servers she’d left holding her trays would not be happy with her. “I should get back anyway. Your friends are probably wondering why I haven’t brought more salad dressing yet.”
“Friends?” His chin bunched up with a small frown until understanding dawned. “Oh, the women at my table. Yeah, I’ve never actually met any of them before tonight. My mom’s hoping I’ll marry one of them.”
She had to laugh. If Nate and the blond bride were in fact siblings, then she’d seen his mom in action and that didn’t surprise her a whit.
“That’s, uh, presumptuous?”
His snort-giggle was adorable. “My mom has certain ways of liking stuff done. She’s the one who orchestrated this whole thing. It’s my sister’s wedding.”
Confirmation. “Oh, I met her earlier. Your mom, I mean. She was nice, but, the woman knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to do what she has to in order to get it.”
Nate smiled again, showing off teeth that were probably the result of years of orthodontia. Which was something else she should start socking money away for, because Chloe was going to need braces. Her cheeriness faltered, but was buoyed by Nate’s next comment.
“It’s actually sort of a family joke that Mom would kill us all to get the family she really wants.”
Okay, that was hilarious. And also, how much more perfect did the woman want her family to be? They looked as though they belonged in a catalogue. A catalogue full of shit Ruby couldn’t even hope to afford.
“But, hey, you distracted me. I was going to get you some water. Wait there.”
He started to walk off, but she couldn’t let him do that. For lots of reasons. She stood and dared to set a hand on his forearm. Which she immediately dropped—partly because she didn’t touch men, but also because it had felt nice. He was warm and strong underneath the layers of coat and shirt, and those were thoughts she definitely couldn’t afford.
“You really don’t have to. I’m fine now. And besides, shouldn’t that be the other way around? Me refilling your water glass?” She kept her voice teasing, but in truth, it was depressing. Maybe she could swap tables with another server so she wouldn’t have to see all the women who were playing The Bachelor with Nate tonight. That would be awful, watching other women flirt with this man who she couldn’t have. Usually it wouldn’t bother her because she could tell herself stories about how the guy was a jerk or bad in bed, but she couldn’t honestly say with how polite and attentive he’d been that she believed either of those things about Nate.
His eyes narrowed as he looked the several inches down to her face. “Isn’t the first rule of customer service that the customer is always right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Ah!” He pointed at her with both index fingers and then swung them to point at the bench. “But nothi
ng. Sit down, and I’ll be right back. I’ll hurry, promise, and after you’ve had more of a break, you can get back to busting your ass, okay? Besides, you know my mom wouldn’t want anyone passing out during dinner. The guests have to wait until the end of the night, after they’ve been raiding the bar all evening.”
What was she supposed to say to that? Especially when he raised his brows expectantly.
So, in a move that was incredibly uncharacteristic, she sat. But not without glaring and crossing her arms first.
“Thank you,” he said with a satisfied nod, before ducking back into the hall.
Chapter Three
Nate snagged an empty glass off one of the many, many tables and dumped some ice water in it from the pitcher that was on the table. Luckily it was from a table where he didn’t know anyone, so he didn’t have to explain himself and he could get back out to where he’d left the server. If she’d still even be there. She hadn’t seemed relieved to have a few minutes’ respite. Hopefully she wouldn’t have run off, leaving one of her beat-up black sneakers behind as though she was a cater-waiter Cinderella.
And much like in Cinderella, he was the idiot who hadn’t even gotten her name. She didn’t seem like the type of woman to find it romantic if he resorted to calling the catering company to get her number, which was completely understandable. That could very easily read as the pursuer being a stalker, which was not the impression he was going for.
Luckily, when he returned, she was still sitting there, though looking around like she was about to bolt. He almost spilled the glass of water on her in his effort to hand it over quickly, which would’ve been fitting, but he was glad all the same he managed not to.
Love, All (Camp Firefly Falls Book 19) Page 2
