Page 22 of Seein’ Red

“Someone must have finally won Risk,” Sylvie says, making the same joke Kenzie and I did earlier. “Camden just told me they’re headed down now.”

Shit. So much for my little escape.

“Perfect timing then!”

I force a smile, my stomach knotting up. Considering the state of revolt it was already in, the added turmoil is not needed. My brain jumping on the bandwagon is also not helping anything. Neither is the elevator ride. For the love, who knew there was so much movement to these things.

I just need some toast…

Yes, that’s it. I need to eat. Once I get some food in me, I’ll be fine.

The boys greet us as we walk into the private room. One side is lined with serving tables and chafing dishes, the buffet that we ordered already out and ready, and a make your own mimosa and Bloody Mary station sits on the opposite side. In the middle of the room there is a large rectangular table, that actually looks like multiple tables pushed together, eight chairs lining the outside for us.

The hotel originally insisted that we have a wait staff plus a bartender with us for our meal. That is, until I made a few calls to corporate and explained exactly who this brunch was for and why we required our privacy. I don’t know what lit a fire under them more, the fact that an executive from a Fortune 500 company—and one of Georgia’s largest employers—was making the call or that the event was for one of the most popular country stars in the US. Either way, we got our private event.

I make a beeline for the food, holding back a gag as the smell hits me. I don’t know if it’s the hollandaise for the eggs Benedict or the gravy to go with the biscuits, but something is enough to set me off again.

The rest of the group gathers by the drinks, Dustin and Kenzie already kissing, while I load up my plate with toast and plain scrambled eggs. We’re keeping it simple this morning.

“Mornin’, Princess,” Nash says, setting a mimosa down in front of me.

I flick my gaze upward to the glass, noticing the perfectly pale orange color of its contents. Impossible to know without tasting it, but from the looks of it, the jackass got the balance of champagne to OJ right. Damn him.

“Sticking with water this morning,” I say, pushing it away from me and taking a bite of toast.

It’s bland, gnashing against my gums, but I already feel a little better, and I’m only half a slice in. A little more, plus some protein, and that’ll be one problem solved. For now.

“Oh, someone had a little too much fun last night,” he taunts, playfully pushing at my shoulder.

I flip him the bird, not bothering to look at him as he heads toward the food. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.”

The rest of the guys laugh, giving him looks like he should have known that was coming, my reaction standard and expected. See, I can do this. Everything is totally normal.

“Not as much fun as she could have had,” Kenzie says, waggling her eyebrows.

“Oh?” Dustin asks. “What’d you do?”

“Nope!” Bronwyn chimes in. “We agreed, what happens at our respective events stays there.”

“Oh, we can share this,” Kenzie says. “We were out to dinner, and our waiter, who was very attractive, totally had a thing for Willa.”

“He did not.”

“He sure did!” Sylvie adds. “He was eye fucking you all night.”

Okay, yes, Link was eye fucking me for most of the night. However, that is not breakfast conversation.

“It’s his job to flirt.”

“You should have gone home with him,” Sylvie continues.

“Gone home with him?” Nash chokes.

I turn toward him, the fire in his eyes registering in an instant. It’s not the fire that was there Friday night as he was staring back at me in the mirror, fucking me until I saw stars. No, this is different.

This is an angry fire.

And I like it.