Page 37 of Save Me
“Oh fuck, don’t ‘sir’ me, man. Seriously.”
Jeremy chuckles. “Okay, got it.”
“You’re working here tonight?” I ask. Obviously, but it’s a Tuesday. The deal Ronan negotiated was weekends only.
Jeremy shrugs. “They needed an extra body last-minute, and I was finished my cruise shift. Missed you out on the water again today.”
“Yeah, I had some appointments and other things. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Good. Don’t expect a great review forTiki Onetoday.” Jeremy widens his eyes with meaning. “I thought Frank was going to toss one of the guys over the rail.”
I groan. “Can’t wait to hear that story.” Though as bad as it is for business, it’s always entertaining hearing Frank’s version of events.
Jeremy holds out his tray. “I know this isn’t Sapporo, but?—”
“Yes, please.” I don’t let him finish before I snatch a glass and take a sizeable gulp.
Only when my mouth is full of champagne do I remember that I can’t drink it. At least, not until I make a decision.
Panic erupts inside me, and I do the only thing I can think of—I spit the champagne back into my glass.
Jeremy and Ronan wear matching frowns.
“It’s gone bad,” I croak, the only excuse I can come up with for my unladylike action, and a terrible one at that.
“Really?” Jeremy lifts a glass, sniffs it, then samples it. “Tastes good to me. More than good. It’sCristal.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess I’m not a champagne kind of girl,” I lie, setting my glass down on a nearby table. Dammit, when will I ever get a chance to drink Cristal again? And how am I going to get through tonight, let alone the next nine months, without a single drink?
“No worries, I’ll get you your beer,” Jeremy says.
“No!”
“Uh … okay?” His gaze narrows with an unspoken question
I adjust my tone. “A tall glass of water for now would be great. My head’s been hurting on and off all day.”
“You got it. Comin’ right up.” Jeremy strolls away, pausing to hand out champagne to a couple in his path.
If Ronan thinks anything of my odd behavior, he doesn’t let on, too busy surveying the crowd.
“He’s not here, is he?” I looked for Henry Wolf but couldn’t spot him. I’ve seen a thousand pictures of the man’s face, but maybe he’s photoshopped and less handsome in real life.
“Not yet. Come on, let’s do the rounds.” His hand slides into mine as if that’s where it belongs, as if that’s where it’s always been, and he guides me to where Connor is, chatting up two men who look familiar.
“Brisket and cantaloupe,” Connor says by way of greeting, holding up a half-eaten slider. In his other hand is a tall pint of beer. “Who woulda thought.”
“Strange combo,” Ronan agrees.
“Whatever. Like I said, I’ll try anything once.” Connor winks at me, his words laced with innuendo. “Guys, this is Sloane, but we call her Cap. Sloane, this is Merrick and Preston.”
“They were groomsmen at Henry’s wedding,” Ronan elaborates, shaking each one’s hand in greeting.
The wedding. Of course. It’s hard to forget faces like these. It makes sense that they’d be Henry Wolf’s friends. They’re dripping money.
“So, ‘Cap.’ That’s got to be a story,” the raven-haired man on the left says, his British accent posh-sounding.
“Not really. I run a small tiki cruise company, and I sometimes play captain.”
