Probably.
Using my phone, I snap a few pics of the decorations and the buffet. I send them to Sofia so she can see what she’s missing. Her reply comes immediately.
Sofia:Nailed it! *raised hands emoji*
Sofia:You’re off the clock now, right? GO HAVE FUN!
I’m about to text her back when someone clears their throat. I look up to see a guy I don’t know—a guy who’s standing way too close—staring at me expectantly.
“Can I help you?” I ask, slipping the phone into my pocket.
He jerks his chin toward the drink station where a couple of Valentine’s cocktails with cute names like Lovebug, Valentini, and Hot Lips are on a display. “Those look great. Can you whip one up for me?”
I do a double take. Is he really asking me to make him a drink right now?
For fuck’s sake. What is it with the men around here? It’s not like I haveservertattooed on my forehead.
I glance down at my dress—which bears zero resemblance to the black and white catering uniforms—and back to Mr. Oblivious. “The caterers aren’t on duty yet.” I flash him a saccharine smile. “But if you think you’re up to the task, you’re welcome to mix yourself a drink.”
A slow flush creeps up his neck, and I give myself a mental high five for standing my ground. Then I turn on my heel and set off to find the caterer.
Why had I ever thought it was better to cave in to such obnoxious requests just to avoid a scene? I mean, really, how would he feel if I marched up to him and demanded an oil change because he has a penis?
The band begins playing an upbeat tune just as people pour into the lobby.
When I find the caterer, she’s giving her team one last round of instructions, but everything seems to be under control, so I decide to call it quits and enjoy the party.
I’m loading up my plate with sugar cookies—because who wants bacon-wrapped dates when you can have cookies?—when the guy in line behind me speaks up.
“Miss Evans.”
It’s Phil from security. “Hey, Phil. Happy Valentine’s Day!”
I’ve always liked him. He was a regular when I worked at the coffee cart. He was a good tipper and an even better customer, always pleasant and never complained.
“How’s the new job treating you?” he asks, placing a sweet potato tart on his plate.
“It’s good.” Aside from having my heart broken by the CEO. “I’m learning a lot.” Like don’t sleep with the boss under any circumstances. “I actually helped plan this event.” With a man who will probably never speak to me again.
“Yeah?” Phil smiles and I force myself to return the gesture. “I’m glad things are working out for you. I always said you didn’t belong on that coffee cart.” He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “You’re too smart to be waiting on all these corporate types.”
Just not smart enough to avoid getting involved with one of them.
He reaches for another tart and stops himself. “I better not. I’m takin’ the missus out for dinner tonight.”
Jealousy pierces my chest, immediately followed by shame.
Really, Scarlett? That’s how it’s going to be now?
“What about you?” Phil asks, completely oblivious to my lack of enthusiasm for this conversation. “Got a hot date tonight?”
Coming from anyone else, the question would probably sound creepy, but Phil’s old enough to be my grandfather. Plus, he’s been happily married for forty years.
“Nope. No date.”
He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t you worry. Your time will come. And when it does, you’ll know it.”
We chat for a few more minutes before he returns to the security desk. I make my rounds, checking in with each of the vendors. I receive several compliments on planning such an outstanding event, and no less than six people thank me for giving them something to look forward to this Valentine’s Day.
