Page 44 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
“Good. It cements the fact that we made the right decision earlier today. Are you feeling better?”
She shrugged. “Once the party is over, I probably will be.”
I chuckled. “Well, I’m going to take Aaron’s lead and go mingle.”
“Is that your subtle way of telling me to stop talking to you and go talk to the employees?”
“I think you’re starting to understand me,” I joked.
“Maybe I do see you, Rhett,” she whispered my name.
She immediately walked away, and my eyes followed her as she went. Her black work pants hid the perfect curves of her backside. The sight thankfully had seared itself into my memory, so while I may be seeing black on her legs and rear, my mind pictured those jeans from earlier this week.
Warmth heated my insides. The memory of her soft skin from earlier today made my stomach flutter. I snapped my gaze away from Holly.What. Are. You. Doing?I’d promised myself nothing more than friendship. Entertaining my attraction didn’t help. We were in hot enough water already.
The busboys already had their plates and sat in a booth in the middle of the row. I snatched a chair from a nearby table, swinging it around, and sat backward, my arms resting on top of the backrest.
“Hey, guys. How’s it going?” I asked.
They stopped chewing mid-mouthful and stared at me.
I hadn’t spoken to them much. Not because I hadn’t wanted to. I’d been too busy with everything else. Their startled expression was expected. “I haven’t had the pleasure of getting to know any of you all that well. Tell me where you’re from and what you like to do when you’re not slaving away at The Boardwalk.”
Silence. Right at the point where it was getting truly awkward, a brave soul spoke up. “I like cars.”
See? Was that really so hard? “I do too. Restored or new?” Team new for me. My truck had cost more than I’d like, but when I’d seen it at the dealership, it had called out to me. Was that how this guy felt about all vehicles?
“Both.” He set his taco on his plate. “I’m working on a Corvette with my dad right now.”
“Sweet. What year?” I asked, ready to conjure what little I remembered about older cars.
We continued chatting, and slowly the other three opened up. Eventually, I excused myself to grab a plate of food and found another table to sit and mingle. From the start, I’d told them I had an open-door policy. I hoped after today, they’d see how much I truly meant it. My mentor at college taught me that when I truly cared about the people, they would feel my sincerity and work harder.
When everyone had finished eating, I called Holly up to lead our get-to-know-you game. My lips twitched in a smile through the grumbles from the staff. No matter their age, people would never be fond of being forced to play games.
Holly’s face morphed into her usual stern expression. It must be a habit when addressing a crowd. “In an effort to make this place a home away from home, we’re going to play a game. And don’t worry, I’m not asking you to come up with random facts about yourself.”
“Thank you!” hollered Skye.
A few of the other chefs stared at Skye, surprised she’d been brave enough to speak up. But that was exactly what I wanted.
Holly cracked a rare smile. “You’re welcome. This game is super simple. Everyone will stand on either side of this line.” She pointed to a twenty-foot piece of masking tape bisecting the floor. “I’ll read a question, and if that statement applies to you, step onto the line. The point is to find who shares common interests with you.”
I smiled, proud of the simple yet effective game she had organized. She was brilliant.
“First question,” Holly said. “Are you a night owl?”
Every single person, except for one of the waitstaff, stepped to the line. Made sense since we worked late.
“For those standing on the line,” Holly said. “Who was forced to become a night owl because of our job? Just raise your hand.”
Half the people, Holly included, raised their hands. I struggled getting up in the mornings. High school and college had kicked my trash with the early start times. Apparently, I had always been meant to have a job that allowed me to be up late.
“Clear the line,” Holly directed. “Next question. Do you like to read?”
I preferred movies to books. I stayed off to the side. Quite a few people stepped up.
“Raise your hand if you like fiction,” Holly said.
