In the meantime, while her servers were busy attending to drinks, condiments, and other food requests, she and her kitchen-three would break down the cooking equipment and find a nice shadowed spot where they’d set up the ice cream stand.
Dessert was the point when, after the meal was complete, Bobbie normally rewarded herself. She’d task herself to being one of the four “scoopers” who dished up frozen confections in order to eavesdrop on ambient conversations, which, if she were lucky, a lot of the time referenced the food she’d served.
What Bobbie surreptitiously heard during those clandestine and pointedly curious spying times, were predominantly compliments. Of course there was an occasional, disgruntled attendee who would have a valid point to make about either the food or the service, and Bobbie always took those as much to heart as the kudos.
Tonight, however…
Did she want to help man the ice-cream station; subject herself to the possibility of having to converse with Buck again? The man had displayed a certain amount of arrogance and frustration when letting her know he wasn’t going to absent himself from her sphere. Would he back off at this publicfunction; decide that avoidance was for the best? Or would he approach and be… What? Combative? Cajoling?
That was a toss-up, which left her fretting over whether she should skip the ice-cream stand today, and simply help her workers with more clean-up.
Of course, milling about the tableswouldleave her more vulnerable if he decided to approach.
Cleaning, then packing up vans—including Buck’s—would leave her without any physical barriers between them. At least if she were ensconced behind the confection counter, she’d have twenty-four inches of butcherblock between her and her nemesis, should he become…insistent.
Ah, well.No need to borrow trouble right now.
She had food to plate.
An hour later,with everyone enjoying the last of their meals and small talk, Bobbie and her team were close to having their cooking stations broken down. Decision time was nearing. Did she chicken out and slink off in the first van they’d almost already filled, or did she suck it up and?—?
“Hi. I’m Everlee,” a pretty, dark-haired woman with long, straight locks approached and stuck her hand out in greeting.
Bobbie took it.
Right. Everlee.
“You’re Mason’s wife?” Bobbie always made it a point to learn the major players names once she took the gig.
“That’s correct.” The woman smiled. “I just had to say how awesome the food was, and how impressed I am. And in case you don’t realize the weight of that compliment, it’s saying a lot from someone who is used to Ellen Sothard’s cooking.”
How true.
They both enjoyed a companionable laugh.
“I totally get it,” Bobbie easily agreed. “And I take it as the highest compliment.”
Who wouldn’t?
“But more to the point,” the woman continued, “how areyoudoing?”
Bobbie blinked. What, exactly, was Everlee asking?
“Umm, fine?” Bobbie didn’t know what else to say.
“Just to clarify,” Everlee stated with an unrepentant smile, lowering her voice for privacy. “I am a self-appointed busy-body, while also tasked with being the psychologist for my husband’s SWAT team.”
Bobbie still didn’t get it, but Everlee didn’t hesitate to explain.
“In that regard, I’m used to looking for people in my periphery who are experiencing…discomfort, and I happened to see that you currently fit the bill.”
“Uh, thank you. I guess,” Bobbie chuckled reflexively.
Dammit.She thought she’d been doing so well, disguising her uneasiness.
“Don’t worry,” Everlee assured her, getting even quieter as she responded with almost uncanny insight. “You’re doing a really good job hiding it. I don’t think anyone else will have noticed. Except perhaps…”
Did the woman’s eyes just slip to Buck?
