CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The wooden surface of Simone’s desk in the Raven Digital Arts lobby glistens from the overhead lights. The team Finn paid to come and clean in preparation of tonight’s long awaited charity event did their job. Even the floor shines so brightly it’s blinding.
Ryland pushes the box I’m grabbing dishes from out of his way and leans against Simone’s large receptionist desk. “Everything looks great, Marissa. You did a good job on this event for Clare.”
Grabbing the box, I pull it back toward me and line up a stack of small paper plates on the last few inches of the desk. “You haven’t gone past the lobby. How do you know?”
He grabs a few napkins from the box and places them on top of the plates, forcing me to adjust them to the side where they belong. It’s more aesthetically correct. “As your boyfriend, I’m required to compliment you on a job well done.”
I chuckle once and throw the now empty box under Simone’s desk where no one can see it. “Well, yes, but you should wait toseethe job first."
“Technicalities.” He waves my comment away and wraps an arm around me, tightening until I step to him.
I’m busy gazing into Ryland’s blue eyes, but I don’t miss the flash of black in the corner of the room. Aspen stops to my side and shakes her head at our little display.
“Sorry, Ry, I need to steal your girlfriend for a minute. Girls before bros and all that.”
Ryland’s sultry look turns to a grin and he bends down giving me a hasty kiss. “I’ll play along for now, but when she’s my wife, husbands get first dibs.”
I laugh and push him away with a hand on his chest until he releases me as Aspen walks to the door separating the lobby from the main office area. Tonight the large office is void of any desks, leaving room for the black covered gaming tables strategically positioned around the open area. There’s Black Jack, Poker, and even an old style roulette wheel for people to lose their money at tonight.
The door between rooms closes and Aspen pounces. “Wife?” She grabs my left hand staring at an empty ring finger.
My hand tingles from her grip as I pry it back. “He was kidding, Aspen.”
“Oh, okay.” Her expression falls. Who would even expect a ring at this point in my relationship with Ryland? Crazy woman. She waves a hand out in front of her. “The room's set. Simone is helping Clare. The food is ready and servers will mingle in the crowd about thirty minutes after the first guests arrive. If anyone shows up.”
“Don’t stress, Aspen. Grant said this is why they send Trey to formal events, so those people are obligated to come to ours when we host them. He compared it to kids’ birthday parties. No idea how Grant has knowledge on children, but whatever.”
“Let’s hope.” Aspen fiddles with a piece of her curly hair and paces in a small circle.
“Relax. This will be awesome. Thanks for taking over more than half of this project.”
“Nonsense. Once Finn agreed to the space, which I knew he would, the rental company organized pretty much everything else. Simone sent out the invites while at work. We had a group effort.”
“Remind me to thank her too. After tonight we deserve something special.”
Aspen laughs. “Simone might need something extra special. I guess when Trey announced they had to pick up and move desks to make space, Melvin had a fit. He argued that his desk placement was optimized for maximum earthquake safety. He’s Simone's favorite employee.”
“He sounds like a real nut job.”
“Simone had to mark the location of his desk legs before he agreed.” She points to the floor on our right where four small squares are marked out with masking tape.
The night rolls on and people fill the front lobby before making their way to the back room for gambling. Aspen’s earlier concerns about no one showing up were unnecessary, thank God. The lobby, a little less bright now after so many feet walked over it, is full of people as they stand in small groups chatting with one another.
A significant portion of invitees made it through the door to the other room where I hope they’re spending enough money Clare won’t need to worry about the youth center’s budget for at least another year.
A waiter in a cute little black and white tux stops to offer me the tray with champagne flutes on it, and I grab one. Drinking might not be the best idea, but one glass won’t hurt. It can’t be any worse than the plate of crab cakes I'm carrying around in my other hand. Although, if both my hands are full, how will I eat? I did not think this through. Why is Ryland never around when I need him to hold food for me?
“There should be a silent auction. Next time let’s do one and I’ll bid on useless crap I’ll never use.” Grant slides up next to me, his eyes on my plate.
One thing I’ve learned about Ryland’s best friend Grant is it’s pointless to fight it. I move the small plate of crab cakes closer to him in approval for him to eat my food. He’d do it anyway. “A silent auction would be great. Next time you can plan it.”
He grabs three crab cakes off my plate sticking one in his mouth. “Hey, don’t take them all. Put one back.” I push the plate at him, but he pulls his crab filled hand back.
“But, Marissa, I touched it.”
“Put it back, Grant.” I nudge the plate closer a few times until he places the third crab cake back on it. The man has a problem with eating other people’s food. It's not safe to keep anything edible in a ten-foot radius of him.
