Just call him old-fashioned. Plus you didn’t live for two hundred years and not learn what you like. So now he had something to distract him from the horror of this wedding. He was going to convince the caterer to have a little fling with him. Maybe he should tell Saxon he was going to try a cupcake after all.
Yeah, no. But it was clear that he did need to get laid. That was probably why he was so irritated with all his “in love” friends. And why he was so cranky.
So he was going to go apologize appropriately to the caterer, then work on taking her home for the night.
He smiled broadly just thinking about it, but his grin faded as he watched the kid who worked for the caterer push the slimy tuna around on the slate tiles with a broom. He did feel bad about the ruined food and the mess he’d created.
All the more reason to go give her a very sincere apology. Maybe several. In his bed. In the shower. Maybe even in this courtyard once the freak-show wedding was done.
Another grin curved his lips. Oh yes, he was having a lot more fun.
Then he realized the maid of honor was watching him from the other side of the room, studying him over the rim of her punch glass as she took a sip of the vile Lake Ponchartrain punch. And Dog Collar Boy appeared to be nowhere in sight. He looked at the ground in front of her. Yeah, nowhere in sight.
Great.
She lowered her glass and continued to stare at him, but now she no longer looked flirty and determined. She looked angry and determined.
Shit, maybe a spurned dominatrix was scarier than a horny one.
Yeah, definitely time to go talk to the cute caterer in the kitchen.
The brunette was easy to find. She stood at a stainless steel counter that was littered with dirty dishes, utensils, and trays of food in various stages of preparation. She swiped at her bangs with the back of her wrist, the movement tired and a little agitated, then she started dolloping some kind of sauce onto minicrepes.
He walked up behind her.
“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low and gentle, not wanting to startle her. She seemed tense enough. But his strategy didn’t work.
A small, surprised squeak escaped her, and she dropped the spoon she held. It clattered against the metal mixing bowl, then disappeared into the creamy concoction.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she spun around to face him. Her startled expression quickly transformed to one of utter annoyance, but she quickly suppressed that look behind a mask of stoicism. Although her blue eyes still flashed with irritation.
Such blue eyes. The same bright, vivid blue as a clear summer sky. Or at least as he remembered it.
Shit, this woman was furious and he was thinking about her eyes. That was as crazy as everything else about the wedding. Or maybe it just further validated that he needed a little adult fun—with a woman like this. Adorable with big, blue eyes, pink lips, a pert little nose, and curves in all the right places.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said stiffly, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sir? What happened to ‘sugar pie,’ cupcake?” he teased, but if the flash of irritation in her eyes was any indication, she didn’t appreciate his joke.
“Fine, sugar pie, I need you to leave. Only employees are allowed in the kitchen.”
“I understand, but I really wanted to apologize to you and explain my actions. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, but it was an impulse.”
“Well, I’m glad you cleared that up for me,” she said with feigned sincerity. “Otherwise I would have gone through my life thinking you had plotted that out for weeks. Now if you don’t mind, I really do need to work.”
Instead, Drake chuckled at her sassiness. “You’re funny.”
“No, I’m busy.” She turned back to the counter and reached for a new serving spoon.
But Drake wasn’t about to be dismissed so easily. This woman really did intrigue him. So instead he moved beside her, leaning a hip on the stainless steel counter.
She attempted to ignore him, probably hoping if she didn’t acknowledge his presence, he’d get bored and wander away. And often he probably would have, but he wanted this woman and as flighty as he could be about some things, he could be very tenacious when he wanted something . . . or someone.
The brunette finally stopped scooping the filling onto the crepes and turned back to him. “I accepted your apology, why are you still here?”
He smiled at her brusque words. She was an interesting combination, physically all sweet and soft looking, but her personality was brisk and blunt—maybe with a hint of sarcasm.
“I wasn’t actually done explaining why I behaved so badly,” he said.
“You know, your explanation worked just fine for me. I’m good.” She lifted the spoon again and returned her attention to her work.
“But I don’t want you to think I’m some creep who just goes around kissing woman unsolicited.”
“Too late.”
Drake chuckled again. She was a delight.
“I did have a good reason. I was actually trying to dissuade unwanted attention from that woman who was standing beside me.”
“You’re right,” she said, not pausing her work to look at him. “That totally makes me think you aren’t a creep. Why not just tell the woman you aren’t interested, when you can create an elaborate lie by grabbing a total stranger, kissing her and pretending to be involved with her, thereby dragging her unwillingly into your deceit? Nope, not creepy at all.”
“Well,” Drake said slowly, “when you say it like that, it does seem a little creepy.”
She shot him a sidelong glance, then ladled more cheese sauce onto a crepe.
“Ashley,” she said to the blonde who had been shooting curious looks at them as she struggled to inject pastries with some sort of filling.
“Please take this platter of crepes out to the buffet table.”
Ashley hurried over to do as the brunette asked.
“Watch where you walk,” the brunette added just as Ashley was about to disappear out the door.
Ashley gave her a muddled look.
“I dropped the skewered tuna on the floor,” the brunette explained. “Eric is cleaning it up, but it could still be slippery.”
Ashley nodded, but still looked confused as she left the kitchen.
JOSIE LYNN WASN’T sure she really wanted to be left alone in the kitchen with “sweet cheeks” here, but the food did need to get out to the guests and frankly, she didn’t like Ashley being here to eavesdrop on this bizarre conversation.
“Let’s face it, if anyone is going to fall on their ass, it’s going to be that one,” Drake said, shaking his head, still leaning on the counter, arms crossed over his chest, all relaxed as if he knew her well and it was completely normal for him to be there.
She scowled at him. Why didn’t he just leave? Good lord.
“Oh, don’t give me that look.” He said, again in a tone that implied they were old friends. “I know you know I’m right. That’s why you warned her.”
He smiled, a lopsided smile that was endearing and charming and altogether too attractive.
She sighed. “Do you plan to hover here all night?”
“Hover, huh? Well, I could help. You look like you need it.”
Oh, no he didn’t.
Josie Lynn knew what the kitchen looked like. It looked like a disaster, but that comment was the final straw. She didn’t need help. Especially from some pompous jerk dressed like he should be working a kiddies’ pirate ride at an amusement park.