Page 103 of Lemon Crush

“What puppies?” Chick asked, looking back and forth between Wade and me.

“A stray dog the guys were feeding at the garage gave birth to puppies a few weeks ago,” I told him. Wade had been showing me pictures of one in particular that I’d already halfway fallen in love with, but he hadn’t asked if I wanted her yet. Not that I should be thinking about puppies when I had Merlin to take care of.

And right now, I cared more about why the man who’d rocked my world on Chick’s bed, and later, after my shift at the icehouse, taken me in my own as if it were our first time again, was avoiding eye contact and talking about the puppies without me. We’d agreed to keep our relationship under the radar, but that didn’t mean I wanted him to act like we were strangers.

He’d been like this all day. His first meeting with Chick had been pleasant enough, but it hadn’t taken long for him to excuse himself and head back out to work again.

He was giving you space. And it isn’t like you’re a couple. Not really.

Was that it? Or was he still upset that we had company and had to limit our time together?

No. There was more to it than that. I could feel it.

He picked up two of the trays. “I’ll take these and you can bring the other.”

“Thank you,” I said, my tone sounding off even to my ears.

He set one right back down and snagged my hand, giving it a quick squeeze where no one could see. “I’ve got your back over there. You’ll be on the team by the time this is over.”

Was that what he thought I was worried about?

“That’s the goal,” I said as he took both trays and left me wondering about his mood.

When I rounded the bar and set the last tray down to get a better grip, Chick gave a low whistle. “The infamous Captain Wade Hudson.”

I gave him a blank look. “Captain?”

“I’ve been writing another space western in my head since I heard his accent and saw his smile this afternoon. He’s got a McConaughey-before-he-went-out-of-fashion vibe combined with the physical look of Joe Manganiello during his massively fit werewolf years. I bet he’d grow a panty-dropping beard. He’s obviously a little grumpy, but it’s no wonder you’ve always been so gone on the man. Not to mention the fact that his name is perfection. Wade Hudson. Howdy, Captain Wade,” he drawled. “Want a taste of my sweet sass-parilla before we jump to light speed and take off all our clothes?”

I leaned against his side and smiled. “You’re ridiculous but I love you.”

“You have great taste. Now who is that stunning Black man with the camera joining their table?”

“Thatis Kingston Haywood, my brother’s old buddy who went to the Big Apple to be famous,” Bernie said from the stool on Chick’s other side. “Now he’s back to teach college students where to point their cameras, for some reason.”

I’d been so distracted by Wade’s aloofness that I’d missed the moment my worlds collided. “Chick, meet Bernie.”

22

AUGUST

Chick turnedon his stool to face her, his handsome smile widening. “Bernie Hudson? I’ve been hearing about you for years. It’s nice to finally meet the legend. I understand the three of us have some dragons to slay tonight.” He sent me a glance, his lips forming a small pout. “The lickable one is Kingston? Do we still hate him?”

Bernie snickered, immediately warming to the man beside her. “She did when she was thirteen.”

“I never hated him.” Okay, he’d told me that my crush on Wade was obvious and I needed to“tone that shit down,”so for a few months, I’d hated him. Then I’d moved away, turned fourteen and gotten on with my life. “He’s fine.”

“He really is,” Chick said with an eyebrow waggle.

“If you like great cheekbones and don’t remember the ‘what’s grosser than gross?’ phase he went through in middle school.” Bernie wrinkled her nose, apparently having flashbacks. “But he’s on our side, so he’s safe for tonight.”

“Safe from the two of you. I might have plans for him later.”

Bernie’s expression turned wicked. “So, unlike August here, youdolike trouble.”

“I adore it.”

It was a little wild, seeing them side by side. Despite their physical and geographical differences, my first best friend and my last had more in common with each other than they did with me. They were both strong willed and confident of their place in the world. Both unapologetically danced to the beat of their own drummers and, until recently, they were both ridiculously more successful in the hookup department than I was.

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