It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from Defending the House, Watkins Glen Gladiators #2, releasing in 2023.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
“No, don’t ask the cook. He’ll be very happy with the turkey and vegetables,” Carson interjected as I made to move. “And we’ll be having the sugar free pudding for dessert. Can I have a glass of red wine with my meal?”
“I’d like wine too,” Grandpa chimed up. Carson rolled his eyes.
“Right, yes, I’ll make a note of that and bring it to you after the desserts are served. That’s a specialty item but we have lots of pudding. I’ll dish it up myself!” I gave them both a big smile then scampered off to serve other patrons and grab two glasses of red wine. Carson and his grandfather could duke it out themselves. It wasn’t my job to tell a customer who was obviously old enough that they couldn’t have a glass of wine.
As I hustled around I could see the two Dries men talking to each other over their salads. Gramps didn’t look happy. That stunk. I hated to see people not enjoy their time sailing the lake. I snuck back into the kitchen, avoiding Percy, to find utter chaos as the cooks hustled about to slicing huge roasts then placing the tender slices into large sterling silver chafers.
Chef Mike shot me a look that one might see on a wolverine about to strike. I smiled, backed out of the madness, and resigned myself to not asking for egg rolls. Grandpa Dries was going to have to eat turkey tonight. That was not a hill I was willing to die on.
I moved around the dining area, clearing salad plates, refilling bread baskets, and bringing refills of cocktails to my tables. Every time I passed by Carson’s table I stopped, just for a minute, to engage with Grandpa. He seemed to be mellowing a bit. Carson waved away another basket of rolls when I approached the table with one. I made a quick right and gave them to a table with four women chatting about books.
Once the main meal was served and our diners had been to the buffet table and were now seated and eating, I melted into the background, as a good server should, only coming out to ask if everything were fine or if the patrons needed anything. Carson’s gaze kept flickering to me as I stood by the bar with Megan, working on our drinks bills and making small talk. Each time his eyes met mine a tingle ran over my skin, making me flush with warmth.