“That’s not gonna work, Jarrett.”
“Why not? Is it because I have a limp?” His deep brown eyes twinkled with humor.
“I don’t know what Finn said about me, but I’m basically done with all three of you.”
“Won’t Carina be suspicious? You’re supposed to be Finn’s date.”
“She didn’t think I was good enough for Finn, anyway. As long as I stay away from her man, she won’t care.” Stephanie made a grand show of opening her playbill and studying the inside, though the words didn’t register in her brain.
“If it makes any difference, I wanted to take Bran skiing, instead.”
She glanced from the corner of her eye, without turning her head. “Why didn’t you?”
His shoulders shrugged. “I got outvoted. Slopes are always crowded in March. Spring Break, you know? Then Finn got wind of this charity event, and the rest is history.”
“I think it’s a bad idea,” she insisted, pushing her jaw so far forward it ached.
“I promise it won’t be that bad inside the casino. Finn told me about your cool microphone setup to help Bran with the jitters. But there’s something you don’t know about Bran.”
“What?” Steph eyed him with suspicion. After spending almost every day with Branson Knight for the past two years, she’d wager it was actually the other way around.
“When Bran comes to Vegas, he always has a few drinks.”
“N-o. Wa-y.” She pronounced each of the words with two syllables. “Bran doesn’t drink alcohol.”
“I guess you didn’t notice he had a piece of pie at lunch.”
“Jiminy Cricket!” She exclaimed so loud the lady in front of her turned her head to look. “You’re right. Why would he do that? He’s so careful with everything he puts in his body.”
“It was always his way of saying what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
“Can’t believe Bran gets drunk.”
“Not drunk,” Jarrett clarified. “Not Bran. He never loses control. His limit is two drinks. Any more than that, and he’d probably be dancing on the tables. He’s got low tolerance, that’s for sure.”
“So what if Branson has a drink or two? What’s the big deal?”
“A couple of drinks, and he’ll be completely relaxed. You won’t have to worry about a panic attack.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Steph gave him her best, you’re-lying-through-your-teeth glare. “I don’t see him purposefully using alcohol to relax. He could’ve taken a prescription anti-anxiety med, and he refused. He doesn’t like drugs of any kind. Says they don’t like him, either.”
As Jarrett chuckled at her comment, Cole dropped into the seat on her other side. “Hey. I’ve come to plead for your forgiveness.”
“What did you do?” Steph whipped around, suddenly realizing her boss hadn’t taken his seat yet. “Where’s Branson? Have you done something to him?”
“Hold on, little lady,” Cole drawled in an exaggerated Texas accent. “Bran’s fine. He’s waiting for Carina to come out of the ladies’ room.”
She sagged in her seat. “Okay. Then what are you apologizing for?”
“Not what, but who. I’m apologizing for Finn.”
“If Finn wants forgiveness, why isn’t he asking for it, himself?”
Jarrett chuckled. “Finn’s a coward. He’s making Cole do his dirty work.”
“That’s true. He’s afraid of you,” Cole agreed, “because you threatened to tear him to little pieces and feed him to the dogs.” His grin was contagious, and Stephanie fought to remain stern.
“I meant what I said, but my threat was tied to whether Finn and you guys push Branson into a full-blown panic attack. My job is to protect my boss. If that means I have to turn someone into dog food, that’s what I’ll do.” She bobbed her chin to punctuate her words, hoping the matter was settled.