Page 13 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I feel it in my stomach. Low. Warm.

He doesn’t look away. Instead, he raises his coffee cup slightly, a quiet acknowledgment.

I blush. I hate that I blush. I drop my gaze back to my hands.

When Fern sets my pancakes down, she follows my line of sight and grins.

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Wayne.”

I look up again. “Pardon?”

She just pats my shoulder. “Eat, sweetheart.”

I don’t miss the way she says it, like she knows something I don’t.

A few minutes later, the man is standing at my booth.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks.

His voice is low and warm.

I hesitate. Every instinct I’ve built over the last two months says don’t. Don’t invite complications. Don’t get comfortable. Don’t let a stranger see you.

But another instinct, older, quieter, and aching, wins.

“Sure,” I say, scooting my plate aside.

He slides in across from me instead of beside me, giving me space. It’s such a small thing, but I notice it anyway.

“I’m Wayne,” he says.

“June.”

“June,” he repeats, looking right at me. “It suits you.”

Heat curls low in my stomach, surprising and unwelcome... and very real.

“Is that so?” I ask, arching a brow.

He smiles, a little crookedly. “Yeah. Sounds like sunshine. Or trouble. Hard to tell which yet.”

I laugh before I can stop myself. It feels rusty, like I haven’t used that muscle enough lately.

“You always open with vague compliments?” I tease.

“Only when they’re accurate.” He nods toward my pancakes. “Fern talk you into those?”

“She didn’t give me a real choice.”

“That tracks.”

“You sound like you know her well.”

“Hmm,” he says, suddenly thoughtful. “She’s been feeding me since I was about five. Knows better than I do what I need. You drove in?”

I nod. “Long way.”

“Looks like it.”