Page 45 of Queen of Ruin

I still can’t believe Darren arranged for Cleo to be here, and even though his intention was to have us all at the lake house sitting at a gorgeously decorated table eating a turkey dinner already prepared, with all the sides and desserts, I think it turned out exactly how it was meant to.

Darren’s hand rests on the small of my back and he leans over to absently place a kiss to the side of my head. When he does, Cleo gives me a worried look, and I turn away, concentrating on my task.

I’m a runner, and yet standing on my feet for hours is wearing on me. When Maria closes the doors after the last of the people leave with their bellies full, I pull the cap off my head and swipe at the little beads of sweat that have accumulated.

Alistair places the tray down on a nearby table, and Cleo joins us, releasing her curls from the cap.

“I think I might have a career as a waiter,” Alistair declares proudly.

“Hungry?” Maria asks, and I realize that I haven’t eaten all day. In fact, none of us have. My stomach grumbles and I look over at Darren who is nodding enthusiastically.

Maria laughs, pointing towards an empty table. “Grab a plate,” she announces, and we do, loading them with the leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Burke, the kitchen chef, places a bowl full of rolls and a tray of butter between us, and then he joins Maria on the other side of the table, along with a couple of the other volunteers.

Alistair picks at his plate, gravy seeping off his turkey and into his vegetables. I watch as his hunger gets the better of him and he reluctantly scoops a forkful, closing his eyes as he puts it in his mouth and chews.

“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your help today. It’s always hard getting volunteers on Thanksgiving,” Maria explains.

“You can thank Darren for that. He forgot to order our food so that’s how we ended up here,” I confess.

Darren grumbles something incoherent while chewing on a piece of turkey.

“So, you just came for a free meal then?” Maria teases.

“Hey, I worked for this meal,” Alistair states, scooping up another forkful of mashed potatoes.

“Whatever the reason, we’re glad to have you.”

“How do you fund this place?” Darren probes out of the blue.

“We get by on donations and some grants. You look like you could stand to lose some change from your pocket.” Marie points to Darren’s designer shirt and jeans that probably cost the same as Alistair's Louboutins.

He laughs and points back at Maria. “You remind me of someone,” he jokes, sliding his eyes to me, an amused expression on his face. I know exactly who he’s thinking of.

“Someone who kicks ass at getting donations?”

“I’ll send a check tomorrow.”

“Told you I kicked ass,” Maria boasts, pleased with herself.

“Well, I for one, am going to add this to my resume,” Alistair pipes up.

“Along with drag queen,” Darren adds jokingly.

“Am I ever going to live that down?” Alistair playfully bangs his fist on the table rattling the silverware.

“Not until you fess up on how you ended up in the slammer,” Darren counters.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Cleo pipes up.

“I second that,” Maria agrees.

“It’s nothing,” Alistair protests.

“I disagree,” Darren counters, turning towards Alistair with raised brows.

“Can we just leave it at hazing?” Alistair demands.

“I’m gonna need context.” Cleo peers at both Darren and me for confirmation.

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