Not Quite Over You. Сьюзен Мэллери

bar from its storage hatch at the back of the trailer and carefully lowered it to the ground, then wheeled it into place. She locked the wheels, then began stacking the plastic racks that held the glasses. Beer would be served in the bottle, so no glasses needed there. She had wineglasses for the Sangria, champagne flutes for the mimosas and highball glasses for those who only wanted water. The soda/coffee/tea station was self-serve and across the way, so not her problem today.

      She put out two small squat tables and set a big galvanized steel beverage tub on each. The beer was in the refrigerator and there was plenty of ice in the freezer. She would put out both right before the ceremony started. The placement—behind the bar—would keep the beer handy, but not available for guests to simply grab and run. Silver liked to know who was drinking what. Part of her job was to make sure no one got too drunk and ruined the event.

      She set up the folding tables and chairs. The ones she used were slatted black faux wood. They were lightweight, durable and could fit into nearly any theme.

      She only put out six tables with four chairs each. They were there for quick conversations, not to be a gathering place away from the main party. Silver placed them on the far side of the bar so they wouldn’t impede the flow of traffic, then opened the boxes of decorations.

      The casual beach wedding theme was easy. She put woven mats on the grass by the trailer. There was a mason jar candle in the bride’s colors for every table. She placed faux coral around the mason jars and made sure there were a couple of long gas lighters behind the bar. Once the wedding had started, she and Drew would light all the candles so they would be burning nicely by the time the guests came out for the reception.

      She stacked driftwood by the bar and strung twinkle lights around the entrance to the trailer before stepping inside to check on Drew.

      “How’s it going?” she asked, moving beside him to inspect his work.

      “Great.”

      He’d filled four bowls with cut-up honeydew and was working on the fifth.

      “You work fast,” she said.

      “Speed isn’t always important but today I want to impress the boss.”

      She ignored the speed comment, not sure exactly how he meant it. Regardless, she had to stay focused on the job at hand. “So far, I’m impressed.”

      “Good to know.”

      She had to reach around him to pull glass pitchers from an overhead cupboard. Despite her best efforts, she brushed against him. It was worse with the stainless steel beverage dispenser. She had to shimmy and bend down, only to end up rubbing her butt against his.

      “Sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Small space.”

      “I don’t mind.”

      She didn’t mind, exactly, either; it was just so unnecessary. They were working. Focus, she told herself. Be strong. Businesslike. Pretend he’s Georgiana. Because with Georgiana, she never noticed the tight space. They just did what had to be done without any fuss.

      “Done,” Drew said.

      “Good. Rinse your hands, then get out the Vitamix. We’ll work in small batches.”

      She showed him how to fill the container with ice, sugar and honeydew.

      “You want to make sure the mixture is completely liquefied. No lumps. Then you’ll taste each batch to make sure it’s sweet enough.”

      “How will I know?”

      “I’ll taste the first couple with you so you can learn what we need.”

      He looked at her. “You’re good at this.”

      “It’s my job.”

      “No, it’s more than that. You like this and it shows. The people who hire you are lucky to have your expertise and dedication.”

      The unexpected compliment left her flustered. What on earth was wrong with her?

      “Thank you.”

      “Welcome. Now I’m going to master the Vitamix.”

      While he worked, she pulled out a three-gallon open container and poured in rosé, Burgundy, pineapple juice and fruit punch, along with the juice of both lemons and limes. She used a big, long-handled spoon to mix everything together, then tasted its result. Not her thing, but good, she thought. She’d started with chilled ingredients, so the Sangria was already cold.

      The large container went into the industrial refrigerator that took up nearly a quarter of the trailer. She would fill the beverage dispenser right before the wedding started and set it outside on the bar. There was a built-in compartment for ice, which kept the drink cold without diluting it.

      As she worked, Drew liquefied batch after batch of honeydew. She made random checks on the sweetness, then put the filled pitchers into the refrigerator. The mimosas were a combination of the honeydew mix and champagne. She would pour into the glass from each hand, creating a bit of entertainment along with the cocktail.

      A smooth event was all about prep work, she thought as she grabbed both a champagne flute and a wineglass. She poured water into each, added a drop of purple food color from the bottle she kept tucked in a drawer and left the glasses on the counter.

      “If you have to pour, that’s how much,” she told him, pointing to the glasses. “Sangria in the wineglass, mimosas in the champagne flute. If they ask for you to add more, tell them we’ll be here all night.”

      Renee hurried over, clipboard and tablet in hand. “We’re nearly ready. Are you ready? Is everything okay?”

      Silver waved to the tables, the decorations, then opened the refrigerator to show her the pitchers filled with liquefied honeydew and the giant container of Sangria.

      Renee visibly relaxed. “Thank you. I can always count on you to give me one thing to check off my list. You’re the best, Silver. Have a good wedding.”

      “You, too. Good wedding.”

      When she’d scurried away to check on yet another detail, Drew finished filling the last pitcher.

      “She’s a little tense,” he said.

      “Weddings are a big deal for the entire wedding party. There’s rarely a chance to get a do-over so it has to be perfect the first time. Plus the whole getting married thing is always stressful. That’s a lot of pressure. Renee wants each bride and groom to have exactly what they want.”

      “You like her.”

      “She’s growing on me. I can respect someone who always gives their best.”

      He looked at her. “Was that a general comment or were you specifically aiming it at me?”

      She frowned. “Why would you ask that? We weren’t talking about you.”

      “Just checking.”

      “You thought I was taking a dig at you? Why? You earn a living.”

      “In a bank, and I suspect you have no idea if there’s actual work involved.”

      He was right about that. What did he do to fill his day? Meetings? Reading reports? Telling others what to do?

      That summer they’d dated, he’d always been so physical—going and doing. She couldn’t imagine him sitting behind a desk all day.

      “Point taken,” she said, then smiled. “But I wasn’t talking about you at all.”

      “Good to know.”

      They looked at each other. Silver felt something grow between them. More than awareness, although that was there. Maybe it was the past, she thought, reminding herself she was over him and not interested in starting something up again. That would be stupid. Only he’d always appealed to her and—

      “I think the guests are starting to arrive,”