Rugged Guard - Jason Collins Page 0,13

all going to be fine. I’ll, uh, see you tonight.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight,” I replied, walking away from the front desk, my thoughts racing through my head at a million miles per minute.

Why was Parker so nervous about what his fundraiser buddies were going to think of me?

I made my way back to my temporary bedroom, the thought still lingering in my head.

And by the time I reached the bottom of the basement staircase, the realization went through me just like lightning.

Holy shit.

Parker had said that everyone was going to be dressed casual tonight, but that didn’t mean that they were casual people. For all I knew, everyone who was going to be there tonight came from money, and maybe my presence there as someone who didn’t have a trust fund was going to make them more than a little uncomfortable.

Good.

I smiled to myself as I thought about interrupting the bubble of the rich and privileged, no matter how nice they thought they were being tonight with the fundraiser.

It was probably about time someone shook their world up anyway.

“Parker Williams!” An older woman in a dark blue dress nearly threw herself into Parker’s arms as soon as we stepped through the banquet hall doors. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been, young man?”

“I’ve been fine, Mrs. Francis.” Parker grinned. “How have you been? How’s your husband?”

“Gary’s fine. Just cranky about his golf game not being perfect, as always.” She chuckled. “He’s around here somewhere. Probably complaining about how the bartender isn’t putting enough punch in his vodka.”

“You know, he’s been complaining about that for the last ten years, Mrs. Francis.”

“I know.” She chuckled again. “At this point, he might as well bring his own punch and pour it into his drinks as he goes.” Mrs. Francis then looked over at me, a warm smile on her expression. “And who is this handsome young man, Parker? Is he your boy—is he with you?”

Mrs. Francis stammered over her last phrase, but made a quick recovery, her smile still on her face.

“I’m Derek. His bodyguard,” I answered for myself.

“Bodyguard?” Mrs. Francis looked shocked by the revelation. “I hope everything’s all right at home, Parker.”

“It’s fine,” Parker assured her. “This is just a temporary situation. We’re dealing with something at the B&B, and just wanted to make sure it doesn’t tumble out into the streets, if that makes sense.”

“Ah. An angry ex-employee situation.” Mrs. Francis frowned after she made her assumption. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it quickly and quietly. You’ve always been good at putting out fires.” Mrs. Francis giggled at her own joke before pressing a hand against Parker’s shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you a little later, all right Parker? I’m going to go find my husband before he pisses off yet another caterer.”

“Sure. We’ll catch up later.” Parker smiled as he waved her goodbye.

Mrs. Francis walked off toward the other side of the banquet hall, squeezing her way in between active conversations, guests chuckling as they sipped at their glasses of wine, their Rolexes and diamond bracelets clanging with the motion.

Figures.

Even during a fundraiser with the majority of the guests dressed down for the occasion, it was still incredibly obvious that this was a gathering of the wealthy residents in town. For starters, the venue itself was decked out with a silver chandelier that hung over a marbled floor, its jewels twinkling whenever it caught the light.

There was also the matter of the level of catering, with the food so exquisite I was barely able to pronounce some of the items on the menu. Not to mention the number of caterers themselves, with enough staff working the event that I doubted a guest could go five seconds without being offered a drink or a canape.

“Are these… the people you usually hang out with?” I asked, glancing around the venue again.

“Only for fundraiser stuff,” Parker answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. “Everyone seems nice so far.”

“Everyone is nice.” Parker chuckled. “What makes you think they aren’t?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“You think I’m hanging out with a bunch of rich assholes, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that, Parker—”

“You didn’t have to.” Parker grinned. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, the majority of the people here are small-business owners in town. Even Mrs. Francis and her husband. They run one of the most popular tourist bars. They started out with nothing when they came to Park City, but they were able to make