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"I aim to please," Fenella said, already mixing the next order.

She was working nonstop without even taking a potty break, and yet she felt energized rather than drained.

This was what she'd needed—purpose, connection, a place where her skills shone, and her company was enjoyed.

She was having the time of her life.

41

DIN

Din nursed his third beer, watching Fenella work behind the bar with joy and confidence that made his chest swell with pride.

She belonged here.

Her hands never hesitated as she poured drinks, mixed cocktails, and bantered with customers. This was the woman he'd spent fifty years dreaming about, the one who could light up a room and cheer everyone up just by being herself.

She'd vanished for a while, had been buried beneath layers of trauma and wariness, but tonight she had resurfaced in her full glory.

This was the Fenella he remembered—vibrant, quick-witted, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she teased the patrons. When she laughed, the sound carried across the crowded room, bright and uninhibited.

She was radiant.

"Earth to Din," a familiar voice said, breaking through his reverie.

Din blinked, turning to find Max standing beside his table with Kyra at his side. He hadn't even noticed them enter the Hobbit.

"Mind if we join you?" Max asked, pulling one of the barrel-shaped stools from a nearby table that must have been vacated while Din had been daydreaming.

"Please do," Din said.

"She looks like she's having oodles of fun," Kyra said as she settled onto the stool Max brought for her.

"She was always magnetic behind a bar."

"I remember," Max said with a smirk.

Din chose to ignore the reminder that Max had enjoyed Fenella back then. Their renewed friendship was too fresh to test with old rivalries. Besides, Max was happily mated now, his days of competing for female attention long behind him.

Fenella approached their table, a tray of drinks balanced expertly on one hand. "Well, well," she said, looking from Din to the newcomers. "The cavalry has arrived."

"We came to cheer you on," Kyra said. "Though it looks like you don't need it. The place is packed."

"Word travels fast about a new bartender who can read your deepest secrets from your pocket lint," Fenella said, distributing the drinks—beer for Max, a whiskey for Kyra, and a fresh beer for Din that he hadn't even ordered yet.

"How are you holding up?" Din asked.

"Fabulously." Fenella's eyes sparkled with amusement. "No one's been handsy, belligerent, or insulting. The toughest challenge was keeping up with the orders."

"The night is still young," Max said.

That earned him an elbow in the ribs from Kyra. "Don't jinx it," she warned.

"It wouldn't be a proper first night without at least one minor catastrophe," Fenella said, not sounding concerned in the slightest. "Though this crowd seems too well-behaved for anything even a little dramatic."

Din reached for her hand and pulled her to sit on his knee. "Your psychic act is a hit."

Fenella laughed. "I'm simply communicating what the objects tell me. It's not my fault if people's possessions are shockingly indiscreet about their owners' embarrassing habits."