Page 18 of Tender Wild

“Best burgers in town.” After killing the engine, Miguel swung his leg over the bike and offered his hand. “Owner’s name is actually Malcolm, but everyone calls him Lizard. Never asked why.”

Jared took his hand, legs wobbly as he dismounted. Their fingers linked longer than necessary before Miguel steadied him with a hand on his elbow. Amusement danced in his dark blue eyes.

“Are my thighs supposed to feel like jelly?”

“First time’s always rough.” Miguel’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “You’ll get used to it.”

Heat crept up Jared’s neck. Something about the way he said it—like there would be more rides, more nights, more of them—made Jared’s breath catch. “Are we still talking about the motorcycle?”

Miguel’s laugh rumbled low. “For now.” He didn’t let go of Jared’s hand as they approached the entrance, fingers tangled together in a way that felt both casual and significant. Only when they reached the door did Miguel release Jared to pull it open.

“Fair warning, place looks like it was decorated by someone’s drunk uncle in 1975. Matias owns half of it, but the décor wasn’t his choice.”

“Your alpha owns a diner?”

“My alpha owns half this town.” Miguel pocketed his keys.

The bell jangled as they entered, and Jared froze mid-step. Every available surface was covered in lizard paraphernalia—ceramic figurines, paintings, even the salt and pepper shakers were shaped like tiny geckos.

“Holy shit,” Jared whispered. “It’s like a reptile threw up in here.”

Miguel snorted from behind him. “Told you.”

Lizard’s smelled like bacon grease and maple syrup, with undertones of coffee. Not the off-putting kind, but the comforting scent of food cooked without pretension. Vintage booths lined the windows, their red vinyl cracked but clean. A jukebox hummed in the corner, playing something bluesy and mellow beneath the clatter of silverware and murmured conversations.

A waitress with spiky gray hair and arms covered in colorful tattoos glanced up from refilling ketchup bottles, her weathered face brightening. Her smile revealed a gap between her front teeth.

“Miguel!” She abandoned her task, wiping her hands on a stained apron. “Haven’t seen you in ages, honey.” Her gaze shifted to Jared. “And you brought a friend.”

“Been busy, Dot.” Miguel rested his hand on the small of Jared’s back. “This is Jared.”

Something in his tone made the waitress’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Nice to meet you, honey.”

Dot remined him of a rough-n-tough grandma. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

“Go have a seat, boys. I’ll be over in a sec.” She shooed them away.

Miguel guided him toward a booth with his hand still resting on his back. Jared slid onto the vinyl seat, wincing as his thighs protested from the ride.

“You okay?” Miguel frowned as he sat across from him.

“Me? Pfft. Yeah.” He waved off the guy’s concern, even though his thighs were calling him a liar.

Miguel grinned. “Are you trying to get another massage out of me?”

They were heading to Miguel’s place after this. Jared needed to remember he was supposed to be guarding his heart until he knew where this was going. Unfortunately, he was already falling hard for the wolf. “Nothing a hot bath can’t cure.”

A moment later, Dot approached with two laminated menus and a full carafe. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Miguel answered, then looked at Jared. “You?”

“Orange juice, please.”

Dot dropped the menus on their table. “Be right back with those drinks, boys.”

“Come here often?” he asked, as if he was throwing Miguel a cheesy one-liner.

“Whenever I get the chance.” Miguel rested his arm on the back of the booth. Even relaxed the guy was sexy.

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