Joel
“So, what’s her story?” I glance over at table thirteen.
Rose turns green every time she looks at the burger her cute son is biting into. She shudders and takes a tiny sip of water, wrenching her gaze away from the ketchup dripping onto Ben’s plate.
She must have come into the diner while I was already at the counter, talking to Winston Gabriel, AKA Win, my good friend and roommate, through the kitchen hatch.
I definitely would have remembered the gorgeous brunette with large, chocolate brown eyes walking in, and I for sure will never get the scent of lavender and peach out of my mind.
“You’re not good at this,” Lina says dryly as she uses the cash register on the front counter.
“Good at what?” I frown.
“Subtly asking if she’s single.”
She’s not wrong, so I wait for an answer.
Lina prints out a receipt.
“So, is she?” I lean toward her, whispering, “She has a claiming bite.”
The faint grooves of a long-healed bite were clearly visible on the right side of her throat, just above her white V-neck shirt. A bite that noticeable can only mean she’s a bonded omega, though I didn’t catch a scent of her alpha on her. And I definitely would have if she were bonded.
“Yes.”
That’s it. That’s all Lina gives me. A whole lot of nothing.
I glare at her. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
She grins at me. “Yep.”
I growl.
She laughs, her light brown eyes sparkling, but her amusement soon fades. “Don’t, Joel. You’re a good guy, and I get why you’d be interested with that hero complex of yours.”
My eyes narrow. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that last accusation.”
“A little,” Lina teases with a smile.
We turned thirty this year, and we grew up in the same town, going to school together, so she always knows which buttons to press to get a reaction out of me.
Her husband, Frank, a beta like her, is a great guy, and I’m the godfather to their son.
That’s likely why, out of anyone in the diner, she asked me to watch out for Rose’s son while Rose was in the restroom.
“I just want to help her and her son.”
She says quietly, “Her alpha died six weeks ago. I found her throwing up in the bathroom, where she just realized she’s pregnant. Likely with his child, so maybe hold off on the flirtatious behavior.”
Damn.
I look at Rose and note the sadness in her gaze as she watches her son eating, wishing I could wrap both of them up in a hug.
As a firefighter, I haven’t always been able to save everyone who needs help, but I’m lucky to have never lost family.
Rose is a few years younger than me, and even if she were older, I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy.
A bonded omega losing her alpha and having to raise her son alone must have been devastating.
Now she’s in Rios, likely knowing no one…
yeah, I have to do something about that.
I sit up, determined. “She’s too sick to be on the road.
We have a big backyard and plenty of room in our place.
Could you subtly weave into your next conversation with her that she can stay with us for as long as she wants?
She’ll be safe, and her son will have more space to run around than in a motel.
Win won’t mind. Neither will Murph when he’s back from Wyoming. ”
“Don’t mind.” Win sets down a plate of BLT and fries on the hatch between the kitchen and the front counter.
“Do you even know what you’re agreeing to?” Lina turns around to ask him.
“Nope.” He wanders away with another ticket he picks up from the hatch.
“So?” I ask Lina. “Will you drop a couple of hints about Rose and Ben staying with us?”
“I’ll just weave it into the conversation, shall I?” she asks dryly.
I silently plead with her to reconsider.
I know Lina. Once she’s made up her mind to do something or not do something, no amount of arguing will convince her of anything.
Doesn’t matter that I’m an alpha with the dominance that would have any omega soon agreeing.
Betas aren’t as sensitive. Lina has to want to do that thing, or you’d better put your hands together and start praying because it would take an act of God to get her to bend.
She blows out a gusty sigh. “Look, I’m not the wonder waitress you take me for.
She’s wary and has a right to be. That little boy is her world, and she won’t want to move out of her motel room and into a house with a bunch of strange men, even if it's for a couple of days.” She glances over her shoulder toward the kitchen, where Win has reappeared. “No offense, Win.”
“None taken,” Win says, proving he’s paying much closer attention to this conversation than I realized. He leans on the hatch, his shoulder-length dark brown hair tied in a knot at the back of his head, the way it always is when he works in the kitchen.
I catch his subtle glance at table thirteen, his hazel eyes stirring with unmistakable interest. Win isn’t blind. Stupid of me to think I was the only one to notice the beautiful omega.
Then it hits me that Lina just insulted me.
My eyes snap back to her. “Hey! What about me?”
She leans toward me, speaking slowly but firmly.
Which means she doesn’t think I’ve been paying close enough attention to what she’s saying and is determined to make this a point that sticks on landing.
“All strangers are strange men when you’re on the road with your son.
And I can’t envision Win as a strange man, even subconsciously.
It’s sweet that you want to help her out, but you have to let her figure things out on her own. ”
“Did she say where she was going?” I ask, swallowing my disappointment that she won’t help while trying to figure out another way I can do something for Rose and Ben.
Maybe this is my hero complex rearing its head. Maybe I should listen to Lina and back off, but I can’t. Even if I’m not sure why just yet.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Just passing through.”
She had an accent, though. Southern. Soft and musical, so damn sexy. Wherever she’s from, she’s definitely not local to Iowa.
I recall Maisie Lucas, the former diner waitress who came to Rios to escape her abusive ex-husband. “Do you think she could be in trouble or something?”
“Stop trying to save her,” Lina says. “She’s okay on her own.”
Win clears his throat.
Lina and I turn to look at him.
“She just ran to the bathroom with her son,” he says.
And sure enough, when I peer over my shoulder, Rose’s table is empty.
I give Lina a pointed look.
She lets out a sigh. “Okay. Fine. She probably shouldn’t be on the road.
I’ll subtly weave into the conversation that if she wants to stick around Rios for a couple of extra days, maybe her morning sickness will ease up, and that I know somewhere safe for her and her son to stay.
” She rolls her eyes and puffs out her cheeks as she picks up a receipt from beside the cash register.
“But just know, it won’t seem the least bit casual to her.
There is no subtle way to drop a hint that big. ”
“Just try your best, wonder waitress.”
Her eyes narrow. “Do I detect a trace of sarcasm, Joel Jane Shaw?”
Shit. If she’s dropping the hated middle name, I’m in serious trouble.
“I would not dream of being the least bit sarcastic to the woman who brings me my lunch and tops up my coffee,” I tell her with a hand over my heart. “The result could be painful and would likely result in a severe case of food poisoning.”
She snorts. “Want a coffee top-up while I’m here?”
My coffee is stone cold at this point after I abandoned it on the counter to keep an eye on Ben while Rose was in the bathroom. I shake my head. “Gotta head back to the firehouse in a bit. This was only meant to be a flying visit to have a quick break. Where’s your dad?”
I look around for Nico, the owner, and the reason this diner is called Nico’s.
He’s usually manning the front counter or helping Win out with the cooking during the busy lunchtime rush while Lina is dealing with all the tables.
She could probably do with the help, but she’s worked here since she was a teenager and could do it blindfolded; it’s that ingrained in her.
The glass cabinet is empty of pie. That’s not a new development; Maisie Lucas, the last waitress, quit serving tables and took over making all the pies from the farmhouse she shares with her four alphas.
Lina points toward the back of the diner. “He’s trying to figure out how to cram more stuff into his office.”
I cock my head. “Has he tried taking some old stuff out first?”
She chuckles. “I told him the same thing. He likes to have all his stuff around him, and some of it is important paperwork he doesn’t want at the house. Especially after the fire at Lora’s place.”
Lora is Lina’s twenty-four-year-old cousin and has been away at grad school for nearly two years now.
Her apartment, a one-bedroom above the flower shop at the bottom of Lincoln Road, about a ten-minute walk from the diner, is where Maisie was staying a few months ago when her abusive ex-husband set it on fire with her inside it.
Insurance had been slow to approve the payout, but all the repairs on the apartment from the smoke damage are complete now, though with Lora finishing up her master's degree at the University of Arizona, where she’s living on campus, it’s empty for now.
A loud crash rings out, and a man yelps.
I start to get up from my stool. “Should I…?”
Lina holds up one hand.
Seconds later, a string of curses, some in English and others in Greek, stream out through the open office door. He’s Greek American, with not much of an accent since he spends most of his days dealing with English customers. If he’s reverting to Greek, then things must be going terribly in there.
Lina lowers her hand and says, “He’s fine.
Too much stuff in a too-small office. His hoarding tendencies don’t help.
He’ll figure it out.” With a quick, light touch, she sets out checks in black check presenters embossed with Nico’s on her tray, along with glasses of water and mints.
“And he has to learn to let things go. I can’t get him to listen to Lora or me, so the next best way to learn is through pain. ”
Damn.
This right here is why no customer would dare mess with Lina. It’s also why I will never, ever, get on her wrong side. That side lies unimaginable pain.
I sit down and leave Nico to deal with his hoarding tendencies as Lina walks away to serve her waiting customers, a flurry of wide smiles, efficiency, and a briskness that speaks of years of experience handling people.
I take a sip of my now stone-cold coffee and wince, pushing the cup away as I ponder what to do about Rose.
“We should be putting the house on the market soon,” Win says, back from checking on something in the kitchen and resting his elbows on the hatch. His white apron is surprisingly clean for having spent a busy lunch period in there on his own.
“I know.” We should have listed it in spring, but the work has taken longer than any of us expected, so it’s looking like we’ll finish at the end of June, just a few weeks away.
We bought the foreclosed six-bedroom farmhouse as a project to flip to get a smaller, more affordable place of our own. The house was run down but gorgeous, and the mortgage is just barely affordable, but absolutely not for the long term.
Murph, a construction worker from Wyoming, decided to stick around Rios after finishing work on the condo down the street. He was happy to help fix up the house in exchange for a free place to stay, though he’s recently started paying rent, or we’d be seriously struggling.
With a couple more rooms to decorate, and a successful visit from a realtor who was ready to bite our hands off to list it with him, it’s looking like we’ve added at least fifty grand to the house, which is much better than any of us could have hoped for.
“We’ll just hold off for a bit,” I say, thinking of Rose and her cute son. “If we can give Rose and Ben a place to stay while they’re in Rios, then I’m in no hurry to sell just yet.”
Win nods his agreement, straightening when an alarm sounds in the kitchen and I get to my feet to return to work while he gets back to cooking.