“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. “Allstrangers 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 youhaveto 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 inserioustrouble.
“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.
