Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover #2)(12)
Author: Erin McCarthy

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.

She spun toward him, waving the cheesy spoon in the man’s face. “I absolutely do not need help. I happen to have everything under control.”

“Josie Lynn,” a tentative voice said from behind them. She turned to find Eric standing in the doorway, broom still in hand. God only knew where the dustpan was.

“What?” she snapped.

“Umm—some of the guests are asking for more rémoulade for the crawfish fritters.”

“Okay,” she said, some of her irritation fading. She was overreacting. She knew it. “It’s in the fridge over there.”

Eric looked reluctant to enter the room, but came in anyway, heading to the large stainless steel refrigerator that she pointed to with her spoon. Yeah, she didn’t look like she needed help. Totally in control here.

Eric located the bowl of rémoulade, without further guidance, and even moved rather quickly to exit the kitchen.

“You might want to leave the broom here,” the pirate commented when Eric passed.

Eric looked slightly startled that the pirate had spoken to him, but then he leaned the broom against the wall and left.

“You might want to consider a little bit sharper staff down the road.”

Josie Lynn glared at him. “Why the hell are you here? Honestly? Can’t you see that I have a lot to do?”

She raised her hand to stop him as he opened his mouth to answer her.

“You know what, that was a rhetorical question,” she said. “I don’t give a rat’s rear end why you are here. And I know I have a lot to do here. I know I could use more staff. Better staff. But I can do this, and frankly, I don’t need or want your help—aside from you just leaving.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, and just when she wondered if he’d just chosen to completely ignore her, he finally nodded.

“Okay,” he said, calmly. “I know you are busy.”

Thank God, he was finally just going to go away. Yes.

“But—”

Josie Lynn fought back a groan. Really? Was this some kind of joke or something?

“I still don’t feel like I’ve given you an appropriate apology. So let me take you out for a drink when the wedding is over. Then you can relax and we can just talk.”

She gaped at him . . . clutching a cheese-caked spoon straight up in the air in front of her. Was he really that thick? Didn’t he see she was annoyed with him? Beyond annoyed. She was a woman perilously close to the edge.

But instead of saying any of that, she simply said, “No.”

He still remained rooted in the same spot, ass to edge of the counter. “Really? Because I think we’d have a great time.”