Page 20 of While You Were Trending

Can’t wait to hear this. “What?”

“You should get a role in a horror flick.”

“Studly hero type?”

“Nah. Being the bad guy’s always more fun.”

“Less talking, more working,” Olivia says from the doorway.

I haven’t figured out how I know her yet, but she clearly knows who I am, and she’s pegged me as someone who’s willing to take orders around here.

But why would the caterers know who I am?

And why would a professional crew on a private winery be taking help from the wedding party’s family when the groom is a celebrity?

Or is this a small-town thing and I need to get over myself?

“Just about done, Livs,” Ten says.

“I know where you couch surf,” she replies. “Call me that again and you’ll never have another booty call in your life. When you’re done putting the tables away, go see Samantha. She’ll tell you where to put the clean plates.”

I glance at Ten after she’s left. “The people who live here are bossy.”

“Shit, yeah.” He jerks his head at me, eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses, then drops his attention back to the table he’s taking down.

“So what’re you doing here?” I ask.

“Eh?”

“Best man for Hollywood’s hottest actor and brother of the bride—if I were you, I’d be crashed out in a hotel still sleeping after yesterday. Not working on cleanup patrol.”

“Sometimes it’s about the appearance and not about the work.” The table he’s folding clatters to the ground with a crash. “Ow. Shit. Dude. Don’t close the table on your fingers. That hurts.”

He bounces in place, sucking on his finger, then grunts a long, slow grunt as he grabs his head.

I grin. “Haven’t learned your lesson yet?”

“Shut up or you’ll be doing this solo. And if you hurt my sister,I’llfind out whereyousleep.”

His words are quiet and uncharacteristically serious, and my smile drops away.

I look him in the sunglasses. “Here to help, dude.”

“Better be all you’re here for.”

Wish it was.

And he has a point.

I should let it go.

I’m not Ginny’s brother.

I’m not even her friend.

I’m making up a story in my own head that she’s in trouble to justify taking care of her the way I didn’t at Alex’s wedding.

Move on, Foxy.