dinners are served while hot.” She takes a deep breath, and I almost feel sorry for her. It must be hard having to play the part of the perfect trophy wife all the time. But then she ruins it. “And try not to look at Arrow like he’s your celebrity crush, okay?”
My jaw clenches. “Not a problem. When will Katie be back?”
“Mom’s going to keep her all night. I don’t know how long Uriah’s guests are going to stay, and I didn’t want you distracted by your duties tonight with a fussy baby.”
“Right.” Damn, this job was easier when I liked Gwen, but she’s been increasingly bitchy since Arrow’s been home.
“You said your friend was going to help you?”
“Bailey’s in the kitchen. She has lots of experience serving, so don’t worry.” I don’t mention that most of that experience took place behind the doors of the Pretty Kitty.
The doorbell sounds at the same time as the buzzer rings from the kitchen.
“Let’s do this,” Gwen says. Her hands tremble slightly and she smooths her skirt, letting me peek at the insecurities beneath her bitchy façade for a split second.
When I step into the kitchen, Bailey already has the oven open. “The hors d’oeuvres are ready.” She pulls out the pan and wrinkles her nose. “What is this shit?”
“Shh!” I look over my shoulder to make sure no one else is in here, but of course, the guests are just arriving and oblivious to Bailey’s potty mouth. Loud, forced laughter carries in from the foyer and across the hall. “It’s escargot wrapped in bacon,” I tell Bailey, grabbing the glass serving platter I’ll present them on.
“Escar— That’s snail, isn’t it? That’s just the fancy-people way of saying snails.”
“Can’t get anything by you, Bail.”
“Just looking at them makes me want to gag. No way would I put something that disgusting in my mouth.”
“Never stopped you before,” a deep voice says from the hallway door.
Bailey spins around to put a face to the asshole, but her glare softens when she sees Mason. Bailey can take razzing from Mason because she knows he doesn’t mean it. Anybody else would probably have a knee in the balls by now.
“I made a one-time exception for you,” she says, batting her lashes.
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it.” He looks over his shoulder toward the dining room, then shuts the door behind him and lowers his voice. “What the fuck happened to Arrow’s hand?”
The question kicks at my heart like a couple of shock paddles.
“Do you remember? I need to know.”
“I don’t regret it.”
Bailey and Mason both stare at me, and I realize I haven’t answered. “The idiot punched a picture frame, but it was hung on a stud, so instead of busting right through the wall, he broke two bones in his hand.”
His dad came out of his room while I was trying to get Arrow upstairs, and he took over. It was pathetic how much I wanted to be the one to take Arrow to the ER. Would he have kept talking?
“Ouch,” Mason says, massaging his own knuckles. “That’s . . .” He shakes out his hand. “His hand.”
“His hand is his hand?” Bailey asks. “Aren’t you the genius?”
“You know what I’m saying. How’s he supposed to play ball with his hand all banged up? I know he’s out for this season, but he could have fucked it up long-term.”
“It’s like that’s the point,” I whisper. I hate the way he looked at his busted hand—as if it were inconsequential.
“If you’re in the kitchen, you have to help,” Bailey tells Mason, and I’m grateful for the change in subject.
Mason grins and unbuttons the cuffs of his gray Oxford, the one that makes his green eyes even dreamier than normal and his dark skin look like melted chocolate. He rolls up his sleeves. “Honestly, I’m more comfortable serving than being served. Put me to work.”
“Mason,” I say. “We can’t let you help. Gwen would kill us.”
Bailey presses the palm of her hand to my chest, gently pushing me away from Mason. “Mia, the sexy man is offering to do the dishes. Let him, please?”
I roll my eyes. “Get out of here, Mason. Gwen would be horrified to know the staff was fraternizing with one of her guests.”
He arches a brow. “The staff? That’s not seriously how you see yourself?”
“That is literally what we are.” I nudge him toward the hall. “So get out of here.”
Mason turns pleading eyes on Bailey. “Don't make me go out there, Bail. They’re