“Okay,” she says, still confused as she turns and walks off.
Bri must have overheard the tail end of our conversation, because there’s an amused smirk on her face as she approaches us. “Taking in stragglers again?” she asks Brant.
Lifting his powerful shoulders in a shrug as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants, he tells her, “Just adding a few tasks to my to-do list.”
Her brown eyes twinkle in amusement as she shakes her head at her brother then looks at me. “Welcome to the family, Alyssa.”
Looping my arm through Brant’s and leaning against him, I offer back, “Thank you.”
“Bet none of us saw this coming when we hired you to babysit the boys,” she says lightly.
I try to mask my uncomfortable amusement. “No, things definitely took a few unexpected turns.”
“Ended up somewhere good, though.” She holds my gaze. “I’m happy for you guys.”
Brant thanks her and she gives him a hug, then we move along to Crista and her husband. Thankfully, Theo had enough sense to hang back when Bri approached us.
While Brant talks to this sister, I watch Bri, expecting her to return to her husband, but instead she returns to Thompson alone, sitting on the floor in his little ring bearer tux and playing with Scout. I frown, searching the room for his crummy father, and my heart sinks with dread when I see him standing against the wall by the storage room, his eyes fixed on me.
I break eye contact as soon as I accidentally make it, but seeing him leaning against the wall outside the room where he attacked me and started all this trouble with Brant puts a damper on my post-nuptial bliss.
I let my gaze wander around the room for a minute, then I glance back at Theo just to make sure he looked away. He hasn’t. He’s still staring at me, and when my gaze meets his, a little smirk claims his lips and he winks.
I narrow my eyes at him to let him know just what I think of him, then I look away and refuse to look back.
Once the guests start taking their seats, I leave Brant’s side to go check on the food. Our cake is beautiful, and the sight of the white butter cream makes my stomach growl, reminding me I haven’t really eaten much today. I had a granola bar for breakfast, but my stomach was too upset from the attack of nerves to eat any lunch.
I look around for one of the people in charge of the food to see if I can sneak a little bit of something just to quiet my stomach. I see one of them bent over, shoving a box underneath a table so it’s not out in plain view.
“Excuse me,” I call out, trying to get his attention.
He pulls back, lowering the table cover and standing.
“Would it be too much trouble—” I freeze as the waiter turns around and, rather than a stranger, I see a quite familiar smirk.
Dirk.
“Oh! Uh, hi,” I say, offering a little smile.
His smile widens at my surprise and he dusts his hands off on the sides of his black slacks. “Hi,” he offers back, a touch more knowingly.
My gaze travels over his body quickly, taking in his attire. For a second, I can’t think why he’s even here, let alone dressed as a cater waiter in black slacks and a white button-down, but then it hits me all of a sudden.
“Oh, God. Brant hired you to work our wedding reception?”
Laughing a little, Dirk nods his head. “Yeah. Well, he told me he’d pay me time and a half if I helped out with a party at his house. He neglected to mention the wedding part.”
I cover my face to hide my embarrassment. “Of course he did.”
“Yeah. Gotta give the asshole credit, though—he has one hell of a way of letting a guy know, ‘Hey, buddy, she’s not gonna call you back.’”
Uncovering my face and grimacing, I tell him, “Ugh. Sorry about that.”
He’s picking on me, but judging from the charming smirk on his face and the twinkle in his eyes, he’s clearly not sobbing into his pillow over me every night. “It’s all right. Hey, congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I say, offering a less pained smile.
“You look pretty,” he adds, letting his gaze travel over my body a lot more slowly than mine did when I was checking him out.
Brant’s husband senses must have started tingling, because all of a sudden he’s at my side, commanding attention.
Dirk’s gaze drifts from my cleavage to Brant’s face and he smirks. “Hey, boss.”
“Don’t you have work to be doing?” Brant asks him as he settles a possessive arm around my waist.
“Sure do.” Dirk lets his gaze slide to me again, intentionally giving me a quick onceover, then he offers Brant a sarcastic one-finger salute and saunters off to make trouble elsewhere.