Working Men 1 Box Set

At Your Service-4

The blonde’s name is Catherine. “We had Geometry together,” Jen says, sipping her soda. “Tenth grade. Mr. Ford?”

I shrug. We didn’t go to the same school and I don’t know who she’s talking about.

That doesn’t deter Jen. “She was the lead cheerleader, class slut, you know the type. We weren’t friends but I knew her, I guess. I haven’t seen her since graduation.”

Somehow, I have a feeling she’s going to be talking to her again before the night is through. That’s how Jen works—she pulls any strings she can when she has her sights set on something, and right now that something is getting our waiter’s number. I don’t even have to ask—she’s already decided we need to be together.

You’re not going to call him. I’m not like that. I don’t go out of my way to meet people, especially guys, especially cute guys with sunshine smiles and sparkling eyes. You’ll never see him after tonight so just enjoy this while you can. How old are you again? Out of college and too damn old for schoolboy crushes.

“You’re not going to talk to her?” Part of me wants to be flirty with the guy—Todd, I remind myself, his name is Todd—but the other part of me is twisted into knots at the thought of actually talking to him. It’s that part that cringes at the way Jen smiles. “Jen, no….”

Her gaze flickers over my shoulder as someone approaches. “Hush up.”

It’s Catherine, our appetizer dish balanced precariously in both hands, and she flashes us a bright smile as she sets the dish down in the center of the table. “Potato skins,” she says, looking at me as if she expects a tip.

Then she turns to Jen and her smile widens. “Jen McElvey?” Her eyes widen in mock surprise. “God, girl, how long has it been? We had math together, remember?”

Jen’s face lights up in her patented fake smile, the one she reserves for people she knows distantly and doesn’t really care for, but she’s too polite to brush them off completely. Besides, she’s got an agenda. Hook Danny up with the waiter… her good deed for the day.

“Catherine!” Jen cries, half-rising from her seat to hug the other girl quickly, one of those fast, emotionless squeezes women seem to share whenever they meet someone they haven’t seen in a long time. “How you doing, girlfriend? Haven’t seen you in years.”

Girlfriend, like they used to sleep over each other’s houses when they were little. I dive into the potato skins, wishing Todd had brought them to the table instead.

“I’m fine,” Catherine says, a little too loftily, and tosses her hair back over her shoulder. With a glance at me, she adds, “I heard you were seeing someone. This your boyfriend?” She smiles at me again, expecting an answer.

“This is Danny.” Jen laughs, and I force a quick grin around a mouthful of food. “He’s a friend. I’m dating Greg. You know, Steve’s brother?”

If it’s possible, I’d swear Catherine’s smile widens until it threatens to crack her face in two. “Dodson?”

At Jen’s nod, Catherine looks up and frowns. “I’ve got to go. Back to work. It was great seeing you.” Another quick hug and she’s telling Jen to call her sometime, they should get together, but as she walks away, I already know that isn’t going to happen.

I shove another potato skin into my mouth. It’s hot and dripping with cheese, but at least it takes my mind off the waiter for a little while. “What was that all about?”

Jen laughs at me.

“What?”

“She was checking you out.”

I roll my eyes. “Great.” I frown. “Just what I need…”

But Jen shakes her head. “Not for herself, silly.”

My frown deepens and she sighs, exasperated. “She just came over here to make sure we weren’t a couple. Don’t you get it?”

Apparently not.

When I don’t say anything, she sighs again. “Someone,” she explains, “wants to know if we’re together. Like that. Since she went to school with me, she offered to come over and find out.”

Another sigh as she realizes it’s still not connecting for me. “Jesus, Danny! He sent her over here to see if we’re dating or not!”

“Who?” I ask, though I already know. “Todd? The waiter?”

She nods.

“How do you know?”

With a satisfied smirk, she replies, “I just do.”