Page 17 of Tempted By the Princess

“Yes ma’am,” I said, giving her a snappy salute.

She rolled her eyes. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Nonsense. I’m going to kick ass.”

Carrie

Genny was definitely not kicking ass, but bless her, she was trying her best. But for someone who’d gone to an actual charm school as a teen to learn how to be coordinated and graceful, she was clumsy as hell. The first hour she dropped more food than she served, although as she got more comfortable with her job her ability to walk, talk, and hold a tray improved significantly.

“Ready for the next tray,” she said breathlessly as she came into the makeshift kitchen where we were keeping the food warm.

She had a line of sweat rolling down the side of her face, and a few tendrils of blonde hair had escaped her pigtails. She looked young and fresh and adorable. Not that I could focus on that right now. I had an event to cater.

“Do you need a break? A drink of water?” I asked solicitously.

“No, I’m good,” she assured me. “What are these?”

“Mini quiches with spinach and mushrooms. They have gluten and dairy, but no peanuts or shellfish.”

“Got it,” she said, rushing out.

I definitely was not staring at her pert ass in those black pants. Not at all.

“Where did the new girl come from?” my assistant catering manager Malia asked.

“She’s a friend,” I answered absently, still focused on Genny.

“A friend friend, or a special friend?” she teased.

I leveled her with a look that made her raise her hands in surrender. “Got it. Mind your own business Malia, but your non-answer is an answer anyway. For what it’s worth, I’m happy for you. Y’all make a cute couple.”

She winked and moved away, grabbing a tray as she walked.

She might be inexperienced as a server, but Genny was quickly making friends with my crew. When they weren’t delivering food my team was laughing and talking to her like she’d been with us for years. I envied her ability to fit in wherever she went. Looking at her now, you’d never guess that she was anything other than Genny, a clumsy part-time teacher moonlighting as a server to make extra money.

To my surprise she hadn’t complained once. This work was hard, but she seemed to be taking it in stride, keeping pace with all the rest of the team. She was a good worker, I acknowledged reluctantly. Much better than I imagined. I was impressed with how hard she was working. I’d pegged her as a spoiled little rich girl when I first met her, but the truth was more complicated.

With several trays waiting for servers, I stepped out into the room to watch the party for a few minutes. My practiced eye took note of the location of my team, making sure that they covered all the areas of the room and observing how they interacted with the guests.

Genny was on the far side of the room serving her mini quiches to a group of four older men. They were assholes, I could see it from here. I’d been doing this long enough to size them up immediately – old white guys in tailored suits, an air of smug superiority around them. Partners probably. The type of guys who figured they could do whatever they wanted because they had money and positional power.

I frowned as one of them got too close to Genny, crowding her. She eased away skillfully, but the jerk clearly wasn’t getting the message. He leaned closer, whispering something in her ear with a lecherous smile. His hand slid down her back, then she jumped.

That guy touched her ass!

I was crossing the room before I knew that I was moving, but I needn’t have worried. Genny pivoted on her heel, slamming the tray of hors d’oeuvres against his chest and sliding it downward to ensure the maximum amount of food landed on his fancy suit.

“You clumsy bitch!”

Everyone in the room went silent, heads whipping around to see what the outburst was about.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” Genny said loudly, her voice high and breathy as she batted her eyelashes at him. “Someone pinched me and I lost my balance.”

“This is a three thousand dollar suit, young lady!”

“It was an accident, Bob,” one of the other men soothed him. “She didn’t do it on purpose.”

I could tell that Bob didn’t believe that any more than I did. He also wasn’t rushing to admit that he was the one who’d done the pinching.