Page 15 of Bodyguard By Night
Willow
Got Fifty On It
I’d rolled in an hour ago—on fumes because I’m the dimwit who should’ve stopped for gas—and somehow got wrangled into going to a bar with my sister.
Firstly, that was new. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d had a drink with my big sister. Secondly, she was adorable. I’d never seen heart bubbles popping around someone’s head in real life, but there they were, coming off her like love perfume.
Her target, the tall drink of billionaire up on the second level. Since I was currently holding her hand, I got dragged along behind.
My chest tightened as I spotted the moody best friend of the groom standing beside Clay. Ransom—hot guy name, and boy, was he aptly named—stood just behind him, arms folded broodingly. He was wearing an ancient leather jacket that had molded to his shoulders and arms over the years until the leather showed off every delicious line.
Whoosh.
Calm down, nipples.
My job was to support my sister in all ways for her wedding. Okay, and to hide out at the orchard for awhile, but none of that included lusting after the bestie of the groom. I could lust quietly in my head—just a little bit. It wouldn’t hurt anyone.
And the more miles I put between me and my old apartment, the more I’d evened out. I’d rather focus on my sister’s wedding than my dumpster fire of a living situation. Some harmless lusting was far more enjoyable.
My sister picked up the pace and dragged me deep into the crush of bar patrons and made a beeline for the stairs to get to her man.
Wait, what was that on Clay’s white shirt?
My height was an advantage in many ways—reaching high shelves, when painting, and picking on my sister, to name just a few. But the best part was being able to see over a crowd. Add in my awesome vision, and I was a force. Mostly in my own mind, but in this case, it was very helpful.
“What did he do now?”
I still had a bit of side-eye going when it came to Clay. In my opinion, my sister forgave him too easily from the drama this winter. He should have groveled with extra jewelry and maybe another one of those cool buses before she forgave him.
They obviously loved each other, but still.
I muttered apologies as we weaved our way around tables and chairs. The scent of nachos made my stomach roar. Luckily, it couldn’t be heard over the cheers from the people on the top level crowded around the baseball game.
After narrowly missing the corner of a table, I spotted a guy in all black with a green shamrock over his pectoral muscle. Since it wasn’t St. Pat’s anymore, that meant only one thing—waitstaff. “Oh, hey. Could we have an extra large order of those nachos up there near the blissfully happy idiot on the second level there?”
The guy gave me a quick once over and his smile powered up a few dozen watts. He glanced up at where I pointed. “Sure. What’s your name?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”
His smile widened. “For the ticket for the kitchen.”
“Oh.”Getting ahead of yourself, Wil.
“But I wouldn’t mind your digits to go with it.”
My cheeks pinked up. “We’ll see how you do with the nachos.”
He was cute and way safer than Sir Grumpsalot.
My sister tugged on my hand. “Okay, okay.” I waved over my shoulder. “Biggest nachos.”
Mr. Shamrock laughed and nodded.
“You know, you could just let go of my hand.”
“Nope.” Rachel’s face was practically glowing. She pulled my hand tighter to her chest. “I’m so glad you came early.”
I plastered on a smile. “Couldn’t stay away.”