Page 42 of A Place Like You

Wren’s teeth catch on her bottom lip. Her skin takes on a slightly darker shade, and I find myself captivated by how fucking adorable she looks when she’s nervous or flustered. It hasn’t taken me long to learn her subtle tells. Her emotions are written all over her face, and it’s a refreshing change from what I’ve experienced in my life so far.

“You okay?” I ask gently, forcing my gaze away from her tempting lips.

She nods, blowing a heavy breath out as she does. “I love my friends dearly, but sometimes they can be too much to handle.”

I suppress the laughter because the three of them were pretty funny. One was attempting to fire Gael, another seemed curious about me, and Sutton was, well, I have no idea what Sutton was trying to accomplish with her slurred words in her drunken state.

“They seem like fun,” I comment, trying to keep the conversation going and hoping she’ll invite me to stay.

Wren huffs out a laugh. “Fun wouldn’t be the word I’d use to describe either one of them.”

“Tell me more,” I suggest, silently hoping she’ll allow me to linger a little longer.

She glances around at the trays of unfinished food, the empty margarita glasses, and the pitcher. “Umm, maybe another day. I have to tidy up before heading to bed.”

Disappointment pricks me, though I know not to push. I gather dishes instead. “Or I could help tidy up while you explain why Jez is so set on firing Gael,” I counter, heading inside.

“Aren’t you tired after today?” she questions, trailing after me. “I mean, you were swinging Milo for hours.”

“It wasn’t hours, and I still have some energy left,” I say, flashing her a grin before entering the house and setting everything on the counter. “Besides, I’d rather spend time with you than my brothers.”

“You should be bonding with them,” Wren suggests, her brow furrowing with concern. Her eyes linger on me for a moment, as if trying to gauge my emotions.

“I’ll try that another day. How’s Milo?” I ask.

“Fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow,” she says, her tone conspiratorial. “Thank you for today. I really appreciate everything, the food, the park . . .”

“It was nothing. I’m just glad it worked out for Milo,” I say, trying to sound casual.

But in truth, it was more than just a visit to the park. Today, I did things I never imagined I would enjoy—activities I should’ve done with my girlfriend and my son. These two strangers filled my well with an energy I never knew existed or that I needed.

After our time together, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. Yet, my mind also drifts to all the moments I’ll never have with Noelle and Sinclair.

The guilt gnaws at me, and I don’t know how to handle it, other than seeking the peace Wren gives me with her mere presence. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t tell her the real reason for my restlessness.

“You don’t have to help me,” Wren says, her eyes following my movements as I push up the sleeves of my sweater and turn on the water.

Instead of arguing with her, I divert the conversation to Jez’s comment. “So, why is your friend firing my brother—again?” I inquire, hoping to learn more about the dynamics of this town.

“She’s very protective of her kitchen,” she states.

“So, the people in this town are territorial with their businesses?” My rhetorical question delivers the necessary sarcasm to hit the nail, but in case I’m not being obvious, I add, “Even when you need doctors, bartenders, and chefs?”

Her head snaps in my direction, eyes flaring with a mix of surprise and annoyance. “Seriously, Drake? You’re talking shit about me after I hired you?”

“I’m just stating the obvious, but let’s not forget that it took a lot to convince you,” I remind her, trying to ease the tension my comment may have caused.

When I peek over, she’s smiling, which surprises me. “Do you hire just any doctor for your practice?”

I lean back slightly, stunned by her unexpected question. “What does that have to do with this?”

She grabs a drying towel and extends her hand, gesturing for me to pass her the first margarita glass. “It’s a yes or a no answer.”

“No. I did a . . .” My voice trails off as I realize that until now, I hadn’t fully put myself in her shoes. “Okay, so I understand your point. This stranger, who might or might not be a criminal, asks for a job with little to no information, and he gets offended by your rejection.”

“Bingo,” she says.

“And yet, you invited me to spend the day with you.” I clear my throat. “The criminal.”

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