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17

WREN

“Order up,” Gary called out the pass-through window.

I instantly slid off my stool, where I was rolling silverware, grateful for a more active task. It didn’t matter that I’d done a ten-mile run this morning in my human form. I wasn’t about to risk shifting with The Diablos in the vicinity. But even with that run, I was still twitchy and on edge, waiting for one of the wolves to show and blow my cover sky high somehow.

Grabbing the two plates of food, I headed for one of the only two occupied tables. It was still early, only half past eleven, but a few regulars preferred this time.

“Here you go, Amos,” I said, sliding the patty melt in front of the man who looked to be in his mid-eighties and rocked a bow tie every time he came in.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He shot me a grin that deepened the lines on his face.

“And for you, Miss Ginger.” I put the cheeseburger in front of her.

She sent me her megawatt smile. “You’re the best.”

“That’s how I like to start my day. Can I get you any refills?”

Ginger glanced at their glasses. “I think we’re good. What do you think, honey bunches of oats?”

I struggled not to laugh. She called Amos a different, over-the-top nickname every time they were in here, but he just looked at her like she hung the moon. The thread of humor I felt faded, melting into longing.

They’d told me they’d been together since high school. Never even dated another soul. And you could see how in love they were. I wondered what that was like. To know without a shadow of a doubt that you’d found your person and have them know everything about you.

“All good over here, my love,” Amos assured her.

“Just flag me down if you need anything else, and I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” I said, shoving the longing down.

I checked on the other patrons, a mother-daughter duo, and then headed back to roll more silverware. I lost myself in the routine of it, trying to think about what I was missing or what risks lay ahead. As the bell over the door jingled, I lifted my head to welcome the new customers.

Only they weren’t customers. At least, one of them wasn’t.

I nearly swallowed my tongue as Puck and Locke strode in. Puck was clad in black jeans, a white tee, and a leather jacket. The James Dean look fit him a little too well. His blond hair looked slightly darker, and I realized it was because the strands were still wet.

That knowledge sent my brain into overdrive, imagining all the ways it could get into that state. And thinking about Puck in the shower was not something I needed.

Locke moved in behind him. A hint of stubble adorned his angular jaw, and his gray eyes gleamed behind his glasses. The kindness there had longing flaring back to life.

He wore dark jeans and what looked like hiking boots, paired with a flannel over a white tee—the tee just hinting at the muscle beneath. He looked like a billionaire tech genius with a second home in some ritzy mountain town.

My wolf perked right up at their presence, preening and pacing back and forth in front of her metaphorical cage. Great, just great.

Puck shot me a megawatt grin. “Birdie, did you miss me?”

I blinked back at him. “Uh, it’s been less than twelve hours.”

Locke choked on a chuckle, trying to cover it with a cough.

“So?” Puck huffed. “That’s an eternity for a love like ours.”

Ginger perked right up at that. “Love, huh?”

Puck crossed to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “She is my one and only, Ging, but she refuses to accept my undying devotion.”

Amos chuckled. “Sounds like the girl has some sense to me.”

“Amos, how could you?” Puck asked with mock hurt.

Locke ignored his partner in crime and took a seat at the booth in the far corner, pulling out his laptop. I took that as my excuse to avoid Puck’s joking advances and grabbed a menu, taking it over to Locke. “Here you go,” I said, setting it in front of him.

He smiled but still didn’t meet my gaze. “I have it memorized.”

My brows lifted at that. Even if Locke was a daily visitor to Arcane, the menu was pretty vast. “Impressive.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take a BLT and a cherry Coke.”

That had me grinning. “I’m a cherry Coke gal myself.”

“Good taste,” Locke muttered, barely audible.

I grabbed the menu. “I’ll get your order in and be back with that cherry Coke.”

As I headed toward the kitchen, the bell over the door jingled again, and three women entered. I’d seen them a handful of times while working here but had always kept my distance as much as possible. They seemed to spend all their time talking badly about everyone in their orbit. And that always made me wary.

I opened my mouth to tell them to grab a seat and I’d bring them menus, but the redhead cut me off by letting out a squeal. “Puck! You’re back!” She gave him an exaggerated pout. “Why didn’t you text me and tell me you were home?”

Puck winced as he took in the women, and I swore I saw a hint of fear in his eyes. “Hey, Cressida. Good to see you.”

The awkward formality told me this was definitely someone Puck had fucked and regretted. A burn lit somewhere deep as my wolf let out another low growl. She didn’t like this female to begin with, but she liked her even less, knowing the history Cressida shared with Puck.

Not my business.

I said the words over and over as I headed toward the pass-through window. Puck could be in charge of that table. It wasn’t like he’d be slinging a whole bunch of drinks at this hour.

I pinned the page from my order pad to the wheel. “Got a BLT for you, Gary.”

He let out a harumph as he ambled over to grab it. “I hear squealing. Does that mean the daughters of Satan are here?”

It was my turn to choke on a laugh. “Gary,” I chided.

He just met my gaze with a challenging stare. “Tell me it’s not accurate.”

I couldn’t. So, I just pressed my lips together to keep from laughing and headed for the bar.

I tried to focus on the task at hand—a cherry Coke for Locke. But we didn’t do just any sort of cherry Cokes here. We made them with flavored syrup and maraschino cherries.

“Birdie,” Puck hissed.

My gaze flicked briefly to him as I grabbed a tall glass. “Yes?”

“Can you take these menus to table five?”

“Busy. I’m afraid you’ll have to handle that. ”

Puck moved in closer, the heat of his body bleeding into mine. “I’m not above bribery. What’ll it take?”

I grabbed the ice scoop and poured some cubes into the glass. “I’m afraid you can’t afford me.”

“Birdie…” he ground out.

Moving to the rows of syrups, I grabbed the cherry and poured it all over the ice. “I didn’t take you for a chicken.”

“I’m not,” Puck said, shoulders straightening, making the planes of muscle beneath his tee even more evident. Then, he sighed. “Okay, fine. This is the one instance where I am a chicken shit, scaredy cat, piss-my-trousers night-light-needer. Now, will you take pity on me?”

A laugh bubbled out of me. It couldn’t be helped. But as I turned to head for the soda gun, I stopped in my tracks because Puck was staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “What?”

He blinked a few times, seeming to come back to himself. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh. It’s fucking beautiful.”

Pleasure and pain slid through me, but I shoved it all down and reached for the soda gun. I shot Coke into the glass and then grabbed three cherries for a garnish. “I’ll get the bitch squad. There’s no need to kiss my ass.”

“I wasn’t?—”

But I was gone before Puck could say another word. No matter what that word might’ve been, I knew I couldn’t handle it. I moved to the table of women first and set down three menus. “Here you go, ladies. I’ll be right back to take your drink orders.”

“You should take it now,” the brunette huffed. I was fairly certain her name was Dara.

“We’d like to request Puck as our server. He and I are good friends. I’m sure you understand,” Cressida cooed.

Vom. Still, I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. Puck is busy at the moment and asked me to take your table. I’m sure he’ll stop by if he has time. ”

Cressida’s green eyes narrowed on me. “How do you know Puck?”

“I don’t,” I said, turning and heading for Locke’s table. It wasn’t a lie. I didn’t know Puck from Adam. Which made the reaction of my body, mind, and wolf to all of this nonsensical. I had no attachment to Puck.

I slid the Coke onto the table in front of Locke. “Here you go. Your food should be out soon.”

Locke studied the drink. “Three cherries?”

I grinned. “I was feeling generous.”

Locke’s gaze slid to the trio of women. “You handle them well.”

I shrugged. “Meanies don’t faze me.”

That was the best term for them. It didn’t matter if their cruelty made its way to the surface through rude comments and backstabbing or violence and torture, the root of it was always the same. And it meant my emotional shields had to be extra strong when they were around. If the women stayed too long, I’d end up with a migraine for sure.

“You sure?” Locke pressed, his gaze flicking to my face briefly.

It was as if he could get every shred of information he needed from that sliver of a second. And then his gaze was gone again. The moment he broke contact, I missed the connection.

“They won’t get the best of me,” I promised.

I forced myself back to the table of women. “What can I get you to drink?”

They stared at me with a mixture of expressions but kind of looked as if they’d been sucking on lemons.

“Diet Coke,” the blonde named Siena said.

“Same,” Dara clipped.

Cressida drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ll take a Diet Sprite.”

She knew we didn’t carry that here. She came in for happy hour drinks with friends on the regular. Still, I forced a pleasant expression. “I’m sorry, we don’t have that. The only diet drink we have is Coke.”

Those fingers stopped. “Such a shame. I’ll take a club soda with lime. But I want Puck to make it.”

Jesus. This was a bit much. And it honestly made me feel uncomfortable. “Can’t guarantee that, but I’ll do my best.”

Cressida let out a haughty huff. “If he doesn’t make it, then I don’t want it.”

“Your choice,” I muttered, heading for the bar and kitchen area.

Puck hovered behind the mahogany structure, prepping lemons and limes for the day. “How bad?”

“Your girlfriend wants a club soda with lime, but only if you make it.”

He froze, turning slowly to me as I grabbed three tall glasses and set them on the bar. “Are you serious?”

“You really know how to pick ‘em,” I muttered.

“It was one time, and I was nearly blackout drunk. It had been a rough few weeks, and I just—I did something super fucking stupid.”

Something about the rough few weeks tugged at my attention. I glanced over at the blond bartender, studied him, and let my emotional shields down for just a second.

That was a mistake. So many emotions slammed into me. Anger, jealousy, and self-hatred coming from the trio of women behind me. Love and comfort from Ginger and Amos. And so much pain from Puck.

I slammed my walls back up just as my knees started to buckle. Puck cursed, dropping his knife onto the cutting board as he dashed forward to keep me from stumbling. “Shit, Birdie. Are you okay?”

I righted myself quickly, the pain from the emotions easing a fraction. But all I could think about was the inky blackness writhing around in Puck—a darkness that was the opposite of the facade he put on for the world. Words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them. “What happened to you?”