“I’m gonna go roll silverware,” I say to Tate. “So make yourselves at home.”
“Can I help?” Tate asks, following me as I walk towards the back.
I glance over my shoulder. “You want to help me roll silverware?”
“Sure,” he says. “It gives me an excuse to talk to you some more.”
Butterflies flutter through my stomach, and I can’t help but smile. “I’m not that interesting,” is all I say.
“Let me be the judge of that,” he says.
It’s really dark back here, the only illumination coming from one of the small emergency lights by the stockroom. Suddenly, a beam of light appears in front of me and I realize Tate has turned on his phone’s flashlight.
He really is nice.
And thoughtful.
And hot.
I open the dishwasher and pull out the tray of silverware.
“Here, let me grab that.” Tate reaches around me and takes it out of my hands.
Normally I would bristle at the insinuation that I can’t carry it myself, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me when Tate does it. I can tell it’s simply part of who he is.
“Thank you,” I say again. “Let’s just bring it into the main dining room, since there’s more light in there.”
“Okey dokey.” He follows me and sets the tray down on the counter.
I reach down, grab a big stack of napkins and put them on the counter next to the tray. “This is how we do it.” I open a napkin and angle a fork, spoon, and butter knife in the middle. I fold up the sides and then roll the whole thing until it’s a nice, neat package.
“Looks simple enough,” Tate says, grabbing a napkin and mimicking my movements.
He folds it perfectly and sets the rolled silverware next to mine.
Is there anything this guy can’t do?
“Perfect,” I say. “You’re hired!”
He laughs. “Well, I have to be in Montreal by Tuesday night, but you’ve got me till then.”
“What’s in Montreal?”
“Our next gig.”
“So, you’re a musician?”
“Yep. I play guitar for a band called Crimson Edge.”
I chew my lip thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you. But to be fair, I listen to country more than anything else. I’m guessing you’re a rock band?”
“Yes, and it’s fine that you’ve never heard of us. There’s lots of different music for different tastes.”
“I’m guessing Angus and the others are the rest of the band?”
“Yup. Except Bart—he’s our bus driver. Angus is our drummer, Mick is our bass player, Sam is our other guitar player, and Johnny’s the lead singer.”
I nod. “And you’re on tour?”
