Chapter 55 Rosalie #2
“Let’s start with the guest list,” Daisy said, her tone all business again as she settled at the long dining table.
She pulled out a neatly organized binder, flipping it open to a page filled with names and notes.
“We need to ensure everyone who matters is included. The seating arrangements will follow.”
I watched her, wide-eyed, as she did all the work herself.
“The Hunts, the Mitchells, and the Travers. We need to make sure they’re all seated where they can see and be seen.”
I nodded, typing into my phone as she spoke.
“And what about the LeBlancs?”
“Who?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Can you go tell Sean I’ll be needing him to give me a ride into the city in ten minutes? Momma will probably want Cabela’s to cater.”
“Sure. Where is he?”
“Should be in the garage.”
As I made my way to the garage, I texted Max about the cocktail party, hoping he’d carve out some time in his busy schedule.
Lucifer
I’ll try my best. Can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.
His response was quick, and I chuckled at the name I’d given him for his contact. I should change that, but I wasn’t mature enough to do so.
Me
See what you can do? What if I bribed you with the promises of good food and even better company?
Lucifer
No, but you can bribe me with something else.
Me
I think you’re pushing your luck. Stop trying to find an inch to take.
Lucifer
Why not? You took many from me.
Me
Did I sleep with you? I must’ve forgotten—oh—that’s right . . . You were the one I faked it with.
Lucifer
Every time? That was quite the show.
Me
Max . . .
Lucifer
I promise to be there.
I bit down on my smile and pushed open the door to the garage. The hinges creaked through the enclosed space, just like they always did. The air grew colder on my legs, working its way up to my face.
The garage was a cluttered space filled with various tools, car parts, and the faint smell of motor oil.
Dust particles floated in the dim light streaming through the small, grimy window.
The cold concrete floor was littered with wrenches and bolts and covered by an old, frayed rug that had seen better days.
Sean had his hands around some cables in the car that did God knows what.
He was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice me at first. His broad shoulders were hunched over the open hood, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked.
His dark hair was messy, and a few strands fell over his eyes.
His hands were calloused and stained with grease, and his clothes—a worn-out T-shirt and faded jeans—weren’t his usual suit and tie.
“Hey, grease monkey,” I called out to him. I was happy to see him feeling better, back to his usual self.
Sean straightened, turning to look up at me. His expression softened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. “Ay, hey, kiddo. I’m not used to seeing you around here anymore.”
I shrugged, stepping further into the garage. “Max keeps a tight leash.”
“Do you even know what a leash is?”
“Funny. Anyway, you’re being summoned by Daisy. She said she’d be ready in ten minutes. Momma wants Cabela’s to cater.”
Sean wiped his hands on a rag, tossing it onto the workbench. He leaned back against the car, crossing his arms as he regarded me. “Cabela’s, huh? Guess I’d better get cleaned up if I’m going to be fit for that crowd.”
I nodded. “You sure you’re up for it?” I asked, my voice softer. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately.”
Sean waved a dismissive hand, but I could see the shadows under his eyes. “Still trying to keep up with your father’s whereabouts. Nothing I can’t handle. Besides, you know how Daisy gets if I’m not there.”
“True,” I admitted with a small smile. “She’s probably got a whole speech planned if you show up looking like you just crawled out of an engine.”
“Ay, I’d rather save myself the headache,” he chuckled. “And what about yourself? Your hands have seen better days.”
He was referring to the pricks from the roses and the dirt still on my hands.
I blinked. “Yeah . . . I needed a break from Momma’s greenhouse torture.”
“Yeah. She does run a tight ship, doesn’t she?”
I laughed, feeling the tension in my shoulders easing a little. “You have no idea. She’s got me repotting her entire collection of orchids. It’s endless.”
“Orchids? Wow. She must really trust you with those. She kicked me out last time I helped her with them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yup. That’s my mother.”
Sean chuckled. “Well, if you want a break from plants, you can always take a seat on the box like you used to. Cars are more fun than gardening anyway.”
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the mess of tools and parts scattered around. “More fun than getting dirt under my nails and being scolded for not knowing the difference between a phalaenopsis and a cattleya? Hard to believe.”
“I guess you could always go back and help Daisy.”
Well, I didn’t want to do that either.
“Actually,” I started, “I remember Momma telling me she wanted to clear out her closet . . . I should go check the pile she left out for me . . .”
“Sure, she did,” Sean chuckled, shaking his head as he started gathering his tools. “Well, you do that. And tell Daisy I’ll be right out.”
“On it,” I said, turning to leave. But before I stepped out, I paused at the door and glanced back at him. “Hey, Sean?”
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Always, kiddo.”