“Hey, it’s not my fault that people ask for things that are way beyond the scope of what my staff and I can pull off. When it comes to gift wrapping, I’m all butterfingers and battle with the tape dispenser. I like having a phone-a-friend option, and it throws business their way, so it’s a win-win for everyone.”
“I get it, I do, but gift-wrapping gurus? Seriously?”
“Have you ever seen how elaborately gifts are all done up with bows and ribbons with those perfect spirals dangling from the ends?” I asked. “I’m a party planner, emphasis on the planning part. Nowhere in there does it say to wrap the gifts for the party too. Yet people will drop things off with me that they don’t want the recipient to accidentally come across and expect them to be wrapped and ready to be presented when we arrive at the venue. So, I made a few connections to ensure that I don’t come home with ribbon impressions on my fingers.”
“Which you wouldn’t anyway because shifters heal nicks like that almost instantly, so it’s a wash,” Nyx pointed out.
“Tell that to my poor fingers.”
It’s a good thing I was kidding rather than expecting real sympathy from my mates, because they just looked amused.
“Hey, isn’t that your cousin Bob?” Kekoa whispered.
Huh?
I looked around, trying to get a clear glimpse of the people who were being led to their tables, but nothing about them looked familiar.
Wait a minute.
“He doesn’t have a cousin Bob. Neither of us do,” Nyx said, but only after he looked around too, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Oh, come on, everyone has a cousin Bob,” Kekoa insisted. “It’s like an unwritten rule.”
“Was he at the fiesta?” I asked.
“I don’t think so, but it sure looks like he’s interested in paying us a visit now and checking out all the food.”
“Paying…” I muttered, because no one was heading our way.
Then it dawned on me that they were looking through the glass window into the bay, not over their shoulder at the rest of the inhabitants in the room. With underwater lights illuminating the sea life almost as well as when the sun was out, it was easy to see who he’d been referring to. There, lazily swimming along, was a sea turtle.
“Cousin Bob,” Nyx snickered as he studied the oblivious creature. “That’s a good one.”
“Yeah, you got me there,” I admitted. “I was seriously beginning to question whether or not I had a Cousin Bob.”
“Same,” Nyx replied.
Beautiful cocktails arrived soon after, at least for Kekoa and I. Nyx, as the designated driver, just sipped pineapple lemonade as we sampled our way through the appetizers before our main courses arrived. Sharing, sampling off one another’s plates, and a unanimous decision to order a small chocolate cake for dessert just so we could take the leftovers home was the perfect way to round out the meal.
We left full and laughing at the way the lady at the table next to ours had misunderstood the assignment when it came to enjoying the view of the bay. She’d viewed it like the tank at Red Lobster and attempted to choose her fish dish from the ones swimming past the window.
“Oh my god, hashtag fail!” Nyx cackled once we were halfway up the dock that led to the parking lot and well out of earshot of the diner. “Did she actually think they have guys in scuba gear down there ready and waiting to net whatever fish someone picks out?”
“Apparently so,” Kekoa said, snickering as our joined hands swung between us.
“I just can’t,” I sputtered, trying to picture the guys waiting for instructions before chasing after a fish with a net and laughing harder at the image that popped into my head of them rapidly kicking while the fish zigged, zagged, and ultimately got away.
We were still snickering as the soft, almost somber notes ofHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmasdrifted across the dock. Someone was playing it on the saxophone, adding to the magic of the night as Kekoa tugged me against them, Nyx’s arms immediately going around me from behind. Swaying, we danced to the song, Kekoa never missing a beat, even while kissing me.
Their lips tasted of sour apple and limes from the martinis they’d sipped throughout the meal. Halfway through, Kekoa spun me into Nyx’s arms so I could dance with him, my mate grinning as Kekoa swept my hair to the side so they could kiss the back of my neck. Nyx’s lips on mine completed the circle, and I shivered between them when Kekoa’s hands landed on my hips.
“How do I always wind up in the middle?” I asked when we finally came up for air as the final notes of the song faded away.
“Just lucky, I guess,” Nyx replied.
“More like conspiracy,” I replied, grinning up at him.
“If you say so,” Nyx remarked. We walked the rest of the way to the Jeep with Nyx’s arm around my shoulders and Kekoa holding my hand.
