Page 15 of Wren's Winter

As we approached, I pulled out the chair for Wren. She glanced up at me with those warm eyes. Like whiskey on the rocks burning down my chest. Her normally smiling mouth made a small O, and her brows wrinkled.

She mumbled a thanks as she settled in. Once I was across from her, I looked down at the menu taped under the clear glass top. I knew what I was getting. I always got the same thing, but the warmth of Wren’s gaze on me was too much.

Why would it be such a surprise to her when I held the chair out for her? From an early age, my grandfather instilled that in me. Now, doing those motions felt like an homage to him.

Mrs. Hunt came to the table, her eyes on Wren. “I know what this one is getting, but what would you like?”

Wren’s left hand rested on the side of her face as she glanced down at the menu, ordering a cheeseburger with a fried egg on top. Which was my exact order.

Mrs. Hunt glanced at me, a smile quirking on the corner of her mouth. “Right away.”

Wren glanced at the framed pictures on the wall, awards for the best burger in Icicle Creek five years before. T-ball team photos and fundraisers for high school boosters.

“You never told me what brought you up here.”

Frowning, she took a small sip of her soda.

“You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that it’s too personal. It’s more embarrassing. My boyfriend—well, ex now—had me plan this trip for my birthday. But we broke up, and I forgot to cancel the reservation. It was nonrefundable and on my credit card, so I figured I might as well use it.”

“Wait, you planned your own birthday trip?” This guy sounded like an asshole.

She nodded at me before glancing away, pink coloring her cheeks. Her fingers rubbed behind her left ear. “It was easier that way. I didn’t mind.”

“Bullshit.”

She blinked at me, her brown eyes large. “What?”

“Bullshit you didn’t mind. No one should have to plan their own birthday trip, let alone pay for it.”

At this time, Mrs. Hunt came to the table, dropping off our identical plates, leaving me with a look of warning I took to mean don’t screw this up. I waited until Wren took a big bite of her burger before asking, “Why would you be embarrassed by that?”

Her eyes met mine, and her chewing slowed. I waited as she took a big drink of her soda before she answered wistfully. “I know it all makes me sound pathetic.”

“He’s the pathetic one. It should embarrass him for being such a little bitch when he had a girl like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” Her voice was soft, but a brief flicker of something hard flashed behind her eyes. She liked what I said.

“I know enough.” Sitting back in my chair, I surveyed her. I wasn’t sure when the last time I truly noticed a woman. But with Wren, I wanted to know everything.

Giving me a halfhearted smile, she sat back, her eyes leaving mine. There was a long silence between us, and I wondered if I had freaked her out. This time, her voice was harder as she stared out the window behind me. “Buck always said he’d take me up to the mountains, but he never did.”

“Buck? Your ex-boyfriend’s name is Buck?”

She nodded, shrugging. “Yeah, so?”

“Buck is a verb. It’s not a name.”

Wren wrinkled her nose. “Buck is a nickname. Beaufort Terrence Rebel Lark the Fourth is his full name.”

There was a long silence where I blinked at her, my mouth opening and closing with unspoken words. “I…Okay, that is so much worse.”

“It’s a family name.”

“It’s dumb.” I tapped a finger on my lips. “He sounds like a Confederate soldier. And that last name is even worse. Bird, bird.”

She pulled her lower lips in between her teeth as she stared at my mouth. Did I have ketchup on it? I grabbed a napkin, wiping myself quickly. She blinked a few times as if breaking from a trance. “Huh?”

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