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Wes

I’m elbow-deep in the greasy guts of a ‘68 Mustang when a shadow falls across my shoulder.

“What?” I grunt, not looking up. Because whenever Kate shows up wearingthatface, it never ends well for me.

“Can Rosie have a sleepover at mine tonight?” she asks sweetly. Too sweetly.

I pause, suspicion making me squint at her. “Why?”

“Because I love your niece and thought you could use a night off. And because, frankly, you look like shit.”

I give her a sidelong glance beforegrabbing a rag to clean my hands. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She flashes me a smile that would fool absolutely nobody. “You’re wound a little tight lately. You might snap and murder someone. I can’t afford to lose employees. Or hide bodies. I don’t have that kind of freezer space.”

“You done?”

“Nope,” she chirps. “You need to get out, drink a beer, and have some fun. Rosie will be safe at our house with our kids. They love her, you know that.”

I blow out a slow breath. She’s right. The kids do adore Rosie, and outside of Lena, Kate is the only other person I trust her with.

But the idea of leaving Rosie overnight—of leaving her at all—makes my chest tighten with guilt I can’t shake. “I should be with her.”

“You’re with her every second you’re not here,” Kate says gently. “Take a night to breathe.”

“I breathe fine.”

“You really don’t. You grunt, you glare, and you stalk around barking orders at everyone.”

“I own the place. That’s my job.”

“And what’s your job at home?”

“Same thing.”

She shakes her head, unimpressed. “Face it, Wes. You’re exhausted. You need a break. Go out, grab a beer, maybe flirt.”

My scowl deepens. “Flirt?”

“Yes, flirt. With a woman. You’re still interested in them, right? Unless you have someone particular in mind?”

I ignore the pointed look she gives me, refusing to let my mind drift to Lena.

Before I can answer, Ryan, who’s beeneavesdropping from beneath a nearby lift, rolls himself out into view. “Hell yes, the boss is coming out tonight.”

“I didn’t agree to anything,” I snap.

“Oh, you agreed,” Connor pipes in. “If I have to suffer Ryan’s tragic attempts at picking up women, you’re coming too.”

Ryan throws his hands out, displaying himself like God’s gift. “I don’t attempt. I succeed.”

“The only thing you succeed at is making people uncomfortable. Last week, that girl gave you a fake number with six digits.”

“She was European.”

“She was from Fresno.”

I rub my temples. “I am not getting dragged into this.”