Page 82 of Pulled By the Tail
“Hours ago. Right, sit.” He pulled out a chair and gave her a pointed look until she sat down.
He was a child—okay, technically an adult but still so young—but he barked orders with a commanding presence. She dared not disobey.
“Anything in particular you’re craving?”
“Salt. Mountains of salt,” she said.
“Rest your feet, have a cup of tea, and I’ll make you a batch of chips.” He moved about the kitchen with efficiency, pulling a container of already cut fries from the cooling unit. He drained them and patted them dry while the fryer heated.
Her instincts about needing an event venue proved true and they had enough bookings to justify hiring staff. Dare had been the first. For his interview, he made french fries, even though he called them chips. She’d been impressed with making fries from a local root vegetable. The moment the salty fries, still hot from the fryer, touched her tongue, she groaned with delight and hired him on the spot.
Best decision ever.
He seemed charmed by the historically preserved kitchen, was bossier than Bright when it came to his domain and was forever feeding her. It was amazing she hadn’t ballooned up already, honestly.
“Oh, good. Dare’s got you taken care of,” Bright said, carrying a stack of freshly laundered linens. She sat at the table and rolled silverware and napkins into neat bundles.
“More tea,” Georgia said, accepting the cup. “Yay.” Keenly aware that Bright watched her, she took a sip and forced a smile. Lawn clippings and mangoes. Delicious.
The fries arrived, salty and still sizzling, and delivered her straight to greasy food heaven. Before long, the birthday girl arrived and would need a room to change into her outfits. Plural. Apparently, thezastencelebrated a child’s coming of age and required at least two wardrobe changes. Understood. She never had a Sweet Sixteen party herself but if she had, she would have wanted half a dozen different dresses, all as flouncy as possible.
She set the Isteimlas family up in a guest suite on the ground floor and checked the schedule once again. The pieces fit smoothly together as the setup finished and the first of the guests arrived. In the foyer, Quil directed guests.
“Where’s Talen? I need him to keep people off the second floor,” she said. She stood at the foot of the stairs, blandly smiling as guests tried to climb the steps, before redirecting them to the party.
“I was changing,” Talen said, from the top of the stairs. He wore a white suit made of an expensive fabric. Fastened with closures trimmed with golden thread, the coat front cut away over the abdomen, revealing a navy sash tied tight and low across his hips. The same rich navy fabric lined the coat. Knee-high boots in a soft white leather over tight tan trousers completed the look.
“Do you approve? It is my naval dress uniform. This is the only formalwear I have,” he said.
“I approve.” Very much so.
“There’s also a cloak that goes with it but that seems a bit much.” He brushed the front lapels, smoothing an imperceptible wrinkle.
She climbed a few steps and they met halfway. “I need to see your butt in those pants. Right now. It’s super important.”
With a chuckle, he turned. Coattails covered his ass, sadly, but the vent at the back allowed his tail free range of movement.
“I guess there’s always room for improvement,” she said, sighing dramatically with disappointment.
“That’s a strategic military decision,” he said. “My ass is the perfect weapon, so it’s covered until the moment it’s needed.”
“Can’t have civilians become desensitized to the mighty military ass? I really don’t think that’s a problem. Show me.”
“Alas, it must remain shrouded in mystery.” He stepped back, climbing a step.
“Talen, please. I need to see.” She laced a comedic tone into her voice, exaggerating the whine.
“Hmm. I am intrigued by the design of this garment.” He tugged lightly at the belt at the side of the wrap dress. Georgia knew nothing stood between her nude body and him but a layer of knit cotton held in place by one belt and a single tie on the inside of the dress. He played with the edge of the dress, pushing back the fabric to reveal her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat.
“You will show me later,” he purred.
“I think that’s a good idea—”
A familiar voice called out at the entrance, drawing her attention away from the shameless flirting. Fiona stood in the foyer, wearing a large sunhat and sunglasses, luggage at her feet, like she returned from a holiday and had not run off with a priceless family heirloom.
“She can’t be here,” Georgia whispered, clutching Talen’s arm. The event needed to be perfect, the house needed to be perfect, and Fiona could ruin everything with a single tantrum.
Torn between the need to ensure the event ran smoothly and finding out what the hell Fiona was playing at, she glanced around the room. The Isteimlas family greeted guests and music poured from the ballroom. The occasional server with a tray of beverages or appetizers wandered through the crowd. Everything appeared to be under control. Even the damnedwuapsbehaved and watched the crowd calmly. No one would miss her.
