“Damn,” Haven whispers, her eyes wide.
I follow her gaze as Ezra sits. He places a plate on my lap, and I stare at it. A huge burger is in the center, along with everything you could possibly want to put on it next to it. A pile of steak fries surrounds it. He replaces the water I had with a fresh one.
“I didn’t know what you liked on it,” he says, draping a napkin on my knee. I meet his eyes, and he smiles crookedly. “This is the best bar food I’ve ever seen. Ryker and Bash don’t fuck around.” My mouth goes dry. It could be because my stomach is empty or the thoughtfulness of my mate.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me, just eat,” he says.
“Okay.” I look down and add the things I like to the burger.
“You don’t like tomatoes?” he asks.
“No,” I say, wrinkling my nose.
“We have that in common,” he says. “My mom tried for years to convince me how good they were. She gave up when she caught me throwing them in the backyard.”
“How old were you?” I ask, and take a bite.
“Twenty-five,” he says dryly. I choke and hold my hand in front of my mouth. “She was stubborn and couldn’t understand my distaste.” He lifts the napkin and presses it against my hand. “Careful.” He drops his hand when I grasp it, and I swallow. “She made me search the yard and throw them away.”
“At least she didn’t make you eat them,” I laugh.
“It wouldn’t have surprised me,” he says dryly. “She had a wicked temper.”
“Was she mean to you?” I ask, my humor disappearing.
He frowns and studies my face.
“No, not at all. She would curse and call me ungrateful, but with a smile. She forgave quickly. I love her, and she would do anything for me.” He returns the napkin to my knee after I wipe my mouth.
“That’s good. So, she was good to you,” I say, eating more.
“The best. My sister tested her patience more than I did. Issy is stubborn and a little wild.”
“You have a sister.”
“I do. She is just as protective as Mom.”
“I’m glad you have that,” I say softly. “Will they be happy you have a mate?”
“Thrilled.” I freeze as he lifts his hand and drags his thumb across the corner of my mouth. “I’ll wait to tell them.” He sucks the ketchup from his finger. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up here as soon as they could get a flight.”
I lick where his finger was, and something warm expands in my chest.
“I don’t have family,” I whisper.
“They are,” he responds, glancing around the room. “Is this all of them?”
“No. Everyone didn’t come,” I say, and his attention returns to me. “They aren’t blood.”
“Blood family doesn’t matter. I’ve met many people who are abused by the ones who should protect them.”
“I understand that,” I mumble, and eat a fry.
“I bet you do,” he says softly, and I avoid his stare.
“Did you eat?” I ask.
