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36

WREN

I moved through the half-empty tables to deposit a plate in front of Ginger and another in front of Amos. My heart gave a little stutter-step as I took in the fact that they were holding hands. The older couple looked like they were back on one of their dates from high school.

A grin stretched across Ginger’s face. “Ooooh, look at this burger, honey pot pie. I think it might be Gary’s best yet.”

“It’s got nothing on my Reuben,” Amos said, his lips twitching. Ginger eyed the sandwich on her husband’s plate as if reconsidering her choice. Amos chuckled. “You wanna split?”

Ginger nodded, a beaming smile stretching across her face as she glanced up at me. “He knows I have a hard time choosing, so he always orders my second pick just in case.”

A pang lit in my chest. It was such a small thing, but wanting to make sure his wife always had what she wanted most was a sacrifice, nonetheless. That pang shifted into longing, and I wondered if there was any way I’d ever have something as pure as what these two shared. “Pretty sweet. And I think it deserves a milkshake for you to share. On me.”

Amos shook his head. “You don’t have?—”

“I want to. Now, what’s your favorite flavor?”

“Strawberry,” they said at the same time.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Coming right up.”

As I headed back toward the pass-through window, I felt eyes on me. Locke’s from his spot in the corner booth, and Puck’s from behind the bar. They’d been on me every day since I’d returned to work. As if Locke and Puck didn’t trust that I was up to the task. As if they didn’t know I was fully healed.

The problem was that I liked the feeling of their gazes on me too much—the warmth that settled in different spots, the assurance that they were watching my back. I could get far too used to it, and that was a dangerous game.

“Head’s still okay?” Dina asked as she thumbed through some receipts at the bar.

It took me a second to remember my cover story for missing work. “All good. I just get them once in a while.” I figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have that excuse in the arsenal, even if it reminded me of all the times my mom had used it before she’d been stolen from me.

Dina’s head lifted, watching me as I put in the order for the strawberry milkshake. There was something assessing to her gaze. Not malicious in any way, but as if she was pulling back layers. “Bummer. I hear migraines are vicious.”

“They’re not a walk in the park.” And that wasn’t a lie. The ones I got from emotional overload were brutal.

“You know,” Puck said as he sliced limes, a mischievous smile playing at his lips, “if you let me give you daily massages, I could work the tension right out.”

Dina let out a snort. “The only massage you want to give Wren is slipping her the ol’ salami. ”

I choked on a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard it put that way before.”

Puck looked affronted as he set down his knife. “There is no slipping when it comes to my dick, Dina. Only stretching because it barely fits.”

My face flamed as mental images swept through me, but I shoved it all down. Instead, I turned and patted Puck on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

“Stop calling me buddy ,” he growled, his voice low.

“Wren, that’s harsh. Calling a man buddy?” Franco called as he shook rain off his jacket, Juan and Clyde following behind him.

Juan chuckled and waggled his brows at me. “Wren has never called me buddy.”

Puck let out another low growl that only I could hear, making me fight a chuckle.

“It’s good for his ego,” I said.

“Damn right, girlie,” Clyde said, sliding onto a stool opposite me.

I leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Well, what can I get you troublemakers today?”

A mischievous smile stretched across Juan’s face. “I don’t think what I’m hoping for is on the menu.”

Puck cut the lime with more force than necessary as he glared at Juan.

Clyde let out a hoot of amusement and smacked Juan on the back. “You might want to take that comedy show on the road, boy. You keep it here, and that knife’s gonna be stickin’ outta your eye before long.”

“Listen to the old coot,” Puck said, slicing again.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t let Puck intimidate you. I saw him snuggling with Ender’s fluffball of a cat the other day.”

Franco’s brows rose comically. “Ender has a fluffball cat?”

“He does. And her name is Princess.”

Puck leaned in, his breath teasing my ear. “He finds out you told these idiots that, there will be retaliation.” Puck raised his voice so the guys could hear, as well. “No rule against having a cat and a penchant for cold-blooded murder.”

“Jesus,” Franco muttered.

Puck placed all the limes in an airtight container and stashed it in the mini fridge behind the bar. “I’m off.” His gaze flicked to me as he moved into my space. “You gonna be okay, Birdie?”

That smoky whiskey scent swirled around me. The heady effect had my vision going a bit hazy. “I’m good.” But my voice came out just a little higher than normal.

One corner of Puck’s mouth kicked up. “Good. I’ll see you at home.”

And then, he was gone, taking his heat and scent with him.

“Okay, I’m just gonna be the one to ask it,” Juan said, leaning forward. “What the hell is going on with all of you?”

Franco smacked him upside the head. “Nothing that’s any of your damn business.”

Juan shrugged. “Maybe not, but I got a curious mind.”

“You mean a sex-obsessed mind,” Clyde muttered.

“Amen to that,” Dina echoed.

“A healthy appetite,” Juan argued.

Franco just shook his head. “A need for a life of his own.” Then he glanced up at me. “If you’re happy, we’re happy. And the way all five of them watch you whenever you’re in the same room…it’s like their hearts are walking around outside their bodies.”

I froze on the spot. He was wrong. There was an attraction there, sure. Friendship in some cases. But nothing more. There couldn’t be. Not while I was hiding everything about who I was.