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"Like Thor treats me?" she supplied gently.

"That's different. You're—" Perfect. Soft. Everything I trained myself not to be. "You're you."

"And you're you. That doesn't mean you don't deserve—"

"Just leave it. Please.”

"If you say so, babe."

She didn't push. Didn't try to convince me that I deserved better or any of the platitudes that would have made me bolt. Just accepted my lie with gentle grace.

Which somehow made it worse.

The door chimed as Thor returned, immediately checking on his girl. "You good, baby?"

"Perfect, Daddy. Lena's designing something beautiful."

He dropped a kiss on her forehead, casual affection that made my eyes burn. "She always does. Our Lena's an artist."

My cheeks blushed.

The door chimed twenty minutes later, and Tyson returned, carrying a tray of four coffees. His eyes locked with mine and something flickered across his face—gone before I could name it.

Then the mask clicked back into place. Professional Tyson. Security Tyson. Definitely-not-thinking-about-pressing-me-against-alarm-panels Tyson.

He moved through the shop with that controlled grace, setting coffees on the counter. When he placed mine down—iced vanilla latte with oat milk and an extra shot—my brain short-circuited.

"You know how I take it?"

His eyes met mine, and that careful control cracked just slightly. "I remember everything about you."

The words hung there like a grenade with the pin pulled. Heavy. Dangerous.

His jaw tightened like he wanted to recall them. Too late.

"Oh, this is better than reality TV," Mandy stage-whispered, loud enough for the next state to hear.

Thor's chuckle rumbled through the shop. "You two gonna keep pretending there's nothing here, or can we all acknowledge the obvious?"

My face went nuclear. Tyson suddenly found his coffee fascinating, studying the cup like it held military secrets. I grabbed my pencil and attacked Mandy's sketch with renewed focus, adding completely unnecessary detail to a forget-me-not petal.

"No idea what you're talking about," I managed.

"Sure, sure." Thor's knowing look made me want to crawl under my station. "Just like I don't know what Mandy's talking about when she says you two have more sexual tension than—"

"Okay!" Mandy interrupted, shooting her fiancé a look. "Let's see those flower details, Lena."

I'd never been more grateful for a subject change. We spent the next fifteen minutes finalizing her design while Tysonprowled the shop, checking his ridiculous camera angles and pretending he wasn't watching me every few seconds. I, in turn, pretended I wasn't hyperaware of every move he made.

"Perfect," Mandy declared finally. "Same time next week for the actual ink?"

"I'll be here." Obviously. Where else would I be? Home alone with my poor overworked vibrator and fantasies about certain security specialists?

Thor helped Mandy up with ridiculous gentleness, like she was made of spun glass.

"Later, Lena. Tyson." Thor's nod held weight. Alpha to alpha. Some kind of Viking warrior communication I didn't speak.

"Take care," Tyson replied, equally weighted.