Page 5 of The Rented Bride

“Not those,” Cassie said.

He twisted and looked at her over his shoulder.

She pointed at the eight remaining boxes of seabass to the right of the lobsters. “Those.”

That brow arched again, but Cassie didn’t have time to respond. Mr. Calhoun’s voice came over the line, “Miss. Adams, what can I do for you?”

“What you can do, Mr. Calhoun, is explain why I didn’t get the Maine lobster tails I ordered.”

“What do you mean? I loaded the boxes onto the truck myself.”

“Did you look at the lobsters?” she asked.

“Inspected them before the guys packed them up.”

“Then you know these aren’t Maine lobsters.”

“Are you sure you know Maine lobsters?” he asked. “Many people don’t realize there are two varieties of cold water lobsters. It’s easy to mix them up.”

“Actually, Mr. Calhoun, it isn’t that easy to mix them up. Homarus americanus—that’s American cold water lobsters, Maine lobsters to you—are red. The lobsters you sent me, however, are a distinct green. They’re North Australian lobsters.”

“Miss Adams—”

“Now, North Australian lobsters are quite good,” she cut in, “and I might have been willing to accept them in place of Maine lobsters. But I hate being lied to.”

“Why would I lie?” he said. “Many consider North Australian lobsters to be superior to Maine lobsters.”

“That’s true,” she replied. “Which is why they’re also about twice the price.”

He gave a condescending laugh. “Maybe you aren’t aware that Mr. Weston isn’t a man who needs to quibble over a twenty-dollar difference on a lobster tail.”

“You are right on that point,” she said. “And the reason he doesn’t quibble over twenty dollar discrepancies is because he has people like me to do it for him. I notice there’re no prices on this invoice.” She placed her hand on the itemized invoice on the counter.

“Well, Miss Adams, you clearly haven’t worked with Mr. Weston before. I have. Prices aren’t listed on delivery invoices per his instructions. Mr. Weston doesn’t like the help to know how much he pays for things.”

Cassie didn’t miss the way Calhoun emphasized the word help. “So, you’re telling me that the prices are included on the quote you gave Ms. Nelson?”

“Of course.”

“When I spoke to you earlier and ordered the tails, you quoted me twenty dollars per Maine lobster tail. When I go to Ms. Nelson, I’ll make sure she’s aware of the quoted price. If the invoice you send specifies anything but Maine lobster tails at twenty dollars per tail, we’re going to have a problem.”

“What are you accusing me of?” he demanded.

“Of taking advantage of a client. As you’ve said, I haven’t worked with you before,” she said. “But I’m not about to let you charge my client for North Australian lobsters when that isn’t what I ordered.”

“I didn’t send North Australian tails,” he snapped.

“Good, then I’ll serve what you sent because, as you stated, they are good lobsters. But we’ll be paying for Maine lobsters.”

“You can’t do that,” he shouted so loudly that Cassie winced and yanked the phone a few inches from her ear. “I did send North Australian because I know that Mr. Weston only wants the best. That’s what he’s always been ordered in the past. If you ever work for him again, you’ll know what to order next time.”

“What I know, Mr. Calhoun, is that I’m in charge of this party. In case you don’t understand what that means, let me clarify. I’m God.” Muffled laughter emanated from somewhere behind her. Cassie looked over her shoulder to see the freezer door shut as she said, “Remember what I said. Maine lobster price. Next time don’t assume you know what the customer wants.” She tapped the end call icon, cutting off a bluster of words Cassie felt certain she didn’t want to decipher.

She set her phone on the prep table and leaned on the table, palms flat against the surface. She released a slow breath. Once her heart rate slowed, she would let Meg know about her disagreement with Calhoun, then she would call Maryanne and let her know that she’d made her first enemy—all on her first day on the job.

“I take it you want these stored in the freezer?”

Cassie whirled at the sound of the deep voice. The second deliveryman stood beside the lobster tails. She stared at him for an instant, wondering if he would come to the defense of his boss. But the guy waited, his expression neutral.

“The lobsters?” he repeated.

“If you don’t mind,” she said. “I would appreciate it.”

He nodded and picked up several boxes, then turned and started toward the freezer. Good. She didn’t need any more aggravation from assholes who thought they could intimidate her.

Cassie walked to the refrigerator, opened the door and took a can of soda from the rack. If this was how the day was going to go, she was going to need something stronger than caffeine.

The deliveryman returned from the freezer. “Everything okay?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she said. Just what she needed, a deliveryman running back to his boss to say he’d frustrated the event planner. If she’d learned anything in this business, it was to never let anyone see weakness. “Please thank Mr. Calhoun for the rush on the delivery.”

“Not really my job,” he said, his mouth tilting into a small smile.

So he must think Mr. Calhoun an ass too. She returned the smile. “Well, I’m sure he knows.” She grabbed the invoice to take to Meg. “If he wants to do future business with Mr. Weston, he’ll figure out how to treat his clients.” She snapped her gaze up to the deliveryman. “No need to tell him that, I already clearly expressed that sentiment to him. So thank you for the help. You can go.”

“You’re dismissing me?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, see yourself out.” She stepped away before he could start a conversation. He was better looking than a man had a right to be, but getting kicked off the job for fraternizing with the help wasn’t going to be her sin—at least not today.