Chapter 6
JORDY
Okay, so maybe Laurel Riley wasn’t the snooty diva I thought he was.
He was a little awkward, though, and a whole lot distracted. I was starting to get why Monty felt the need to protect him from random shit.
I kept an eye on him as he polished his plate, scraping off every little drop of mash until the porcelain looked like he’d pulled it out of the dishwasher. He ate faster than Monty.
“You must have been hungry.”
Laurel wiped his face with a napkin and dropped it onto the empty plate. “I’ve been to shitloads of restaurants in shitloads of countries, but this is by far the best culinary experience of my life.”
“Meatloaf day is like a holiday in Beauville.”
“As it should be.” He nodded, all serious.
When he relaxed, he appeared more approachable. I wouldn’t go as far as calling him friendly, but I didn’t expect the famous superstar to accept lunch at a local diner, let alone enjoy it and praise it. Every time I’d met him before, he seemed aloof and pissed off by default.
But now that I thought of it, I hadn’t actually spoken more than a few sentences to him before.
He was frowning at me, and I realized I’d been staring.
Where were we? Aha. Food. That was an easy topic.
“You might want to try Rudi’s honey-glazed ribs next time too.”
“Are you advertising your establishment, Jordan? Under the nose of the competition, no less.”
“Bert would agree with me about the ribs. And I’m just telling you more things you could appreciate about Beauville.”
“Oh, I do appreciate it.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the suspicion from my voice.
He spread his arms. “I can go out for a walk without being mobbed in the street. I visited a pub and a diner, and nobody asked for an autograph. I’m starting to think people here don’t find me all that special.”
He said it lightly, and his lips curved up at the corners. Tiny tendrils of his sweet omega scent made it to my nose, but when I breathed in, trying to get a good whiff, I only got the smell of gravy and the familiar alpha lumberjack stink I was used to from the pub.
“Miss the attention, Mr. Riley?”
“Not even a little bit. Do I sound ungrateful?” he asked as if he genuinely cared about what I thought.
“I wouldn’t know.”
He squinted at me. “You do know. You have opinions about everything and everyone, but you don’t say them. Why is that?”
Whoa. That was direct for small talk at lunch. “Who am I to judge people?” I replied noncommittally.
But Laurel didn’t give up. “You judge me.”
“I do not,” I replied on automatic.
“Yes, you do. At the pub last night. And today. I’m starting to think you don’t particularly like me.”
He jerked his chin forward, all determined, but I could see the small cracks in his facade.
He really wasn’t doing well, was he? His clear skin was pale, and he had purplish circles under his eyes.
Sharp brackets framed his otherwise plush lips.
Laurel was a beautiful man, the entire country would agree, but he was drained and somehow stretched thin.
The pang of melancholy surprised me. This guy had everything. Why should I feel sorry for him? Yet, here I was, thinking he might need a hug and a foot massage.
“I did expect you to act less relaxed about certain things,” I admitted.
He grinned, a spark of mischief lighting up his tired face. “You think I’m full of myself.”
“No.”
“Spoiled?”
“Maybe,” I hedged. “Less than I thought.”
He shook his head, looking out through the window. “See. You are judging me.” He was still smiling, but it looked sad. “But that’s fine, you’re entitled. I know I can be an asshole.”
I had no idea what to say to that. Did he expect me to lie and say he seemed like a total sweetheart?
But he wasn’t looking at me. He turned his gaze to the room. The diner had gotten busier, and several bears now ate standing at the counter, creating an impenetrable wall of muscle around it.
“I like it when people pretend not to know who I am,” Laurel said. “It’s eerie, but I like it. Is it because of the shifter thing that everyone’s minding their own business?”
“That, too. But it helps that Monty’s been telling everyone to leave you alone.”
Laurel whipped his head around. “What?”
“Yeah. He made it his mission. I heard him giving the talk to Sedric, our server at the pub. Be friendly but with boundaries. Act like you would toward a cousin twice removed who just appeared in town.”
“That’s actually…clever.”
“When you left, he got up onto the bar and announced that if anyone contacted the press about you or posted anything on social media, he’d close the pub until spring.”
Why was I telling him this? But Laurel’s eyes got big, and for some stupid reason, his reaction made me happy. Monty had been trying so hard; he deserved some appreciation.
“He really did that?” Laurel breathed, hand on his chest.
I gave a grim nod. “As threats go, that one’s devious.”
Laurel straightened the cutlery on his plate, his cheeks getting a little pink. “He’s a character.”
Holy shit. Did Laurel actually like Monty back? No way!
But he was smiling dreamily, looking way less tired than just a minute ago.
Hell, I should give him the speech. If you hurt him… But I couldn’t do that without revealing just how big a crush Monty harbored.
Seeing Laurel’s smile, I felt something in my chest shift. One sore spot stopped aching, only to give way to a different kind of tension.
Monty had never been mine, and I’d always known that. If he had even a rat’s ass chance with Laurel, I’d be happy for him.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Orson.
The thing was, if Monty hadn’t been clear about wanting Laurel, I would have totally made a move myself.
It would have been interesting to see if Laurel was a spoiled brat in bed.
Or would a good dicking make him soft and pliant?
How would he look all sleepy and satisfied, without the constant wariness around his eyes?