The clouds break and the world erupts with sunshine. “Really?” I ask. The excitement in my voice gives us pause. Once more, I wish my power included turning back time.
Bren analyzes me closely and takes a deep breath, using his heightened sense to determine if I’m lying or if I’m seriously that much of a simpleton. Had I my sisters’ olive complexion, my blushes wouldn’t be so obvious. Except I don’t, and here I am, again.
Bren edges away from me. “I’ll pour you another glass,” he says carefully, his watchful gaze hitched on me.
“I’ll just have water please.” I play nervously with my hands. My exchange with Bren has been juvenile at best. Alcohol won’t make me more prolific.
Bren pours me a water and places it in front of me. “Thank you,” I mumble, hoping my skin has returned to a less mortified shade of red.
He greets me with a tender smile. It’s all I seem to need. Relief washes over me. Maybe things between us aren’t so bad after all. Maybe, we’re going to be all right.
The waitress from before returns, interrupting by slapping her tray on the bar and waving the ticket at Bren, her annoyance having doubled since she last appeared.
Bren pushes away from the bar. “Give me a sec, okay?” he says.
I nod and turn my attention toward the waitress when she huffs. She’s ready to snap someone in two. She’s human, and unbeknownst to her, surrounded by beasts known to exude their dominance. Her job can’t be easy.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
The scowl she greets me with suggests I shouldn’t have asked and why don’t I just run along and burn in hell.
She huffs again and gives me her back, adjusting the fastener holding her ruby red hair in place. “Bren,” she says. “What are you doing? Did you forget how to read? The assholes at table eight only want top shelf. My tip depends on it, baby.”
I stiffen at the “baby” reference. It’s not that she said it, it’s how she said it. If I know Bren, they’re more than just coworkers.
“Sorry, Nance,” Bren mutters. “I’m on it.”
“Lai-la,” she enunciates.
“What?” Bren says, looking up.
“Nancy quit two years ago, dipshit. I’m Laila.”
Bren pours vodka into a mixer and gives it a few shakes. “Hmph? No kidding. I really liked her.”
Oh, and doesn’t that make Laila mad? Yet somehow, I’m the one she trains her steely features on.
I adjust my position and try to relax despite her irate state. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes off Bren and based on another loathsome glare from Laila, she’s noticed.
Bren is just being Bren. He’s dressed as casually as ever and he’s wearing clothes I’ve seen him wear a thousand times before. But…he looks really cute tonight. Very much a younger, leaner version of Blake Shelton like Shayna once described.
“What’s wrong, Emme?”
I jolt at his voice. I’m so caught up in trying not to look at him that I didn’t see him approach. I clear my throat as the band transitions to Sam Hunt’s Hard to Forget.
“Sorry?”
He rubs his beard, scrutinizing me closely. “I asked you why you’re by yourself.”
“Celia is away for the weekend,” I begin. “After what happened with the zombies, Aric thought she was due for some peace, quiet, and less mutilation. He arranged a romantic getaway with plans to return by Monday.” I lower my chin, hoping he doesn’t ask me too much about my sisters. “Shayna is with Koda.”
Bren holds out his hands. “Let me guess, Zorro meets shy, virgin, Mexican villager, and Koda ripped the skirt getting it on?”
That was two weeks ago and no, that skirt never stood a chance against Koda’s magnificent glutes, I obviously don’t say. I clear my throat, trying to remain elusive. “They’re having some time alone at the house, yes.”
“I’ll bet.” Bren crosses his arms, freezing when I shrink inward. “Emme, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Quit lying.” He rubs his jaw, his smirk growing ever so knowingly. “Where’s Taran?”
I play with the straw in my water as if it’s my first time using one. He had to go and ask about the one sister I don’t want to talk about. “Taran?” I ask. “Did you say Taran?”
“Yeah, Taran.” He leans back on his heels. “Em, where is she?”
I find somewhere else to look. “You know Taran. She’s always busy.”
“Uh, huh. And what is she busy doing?”
I rub my hands as if there’s something on them. “Working,” I say.
“At the hospital?” he presses.
There’s no point in lying. I’m not good at it and heaven knows Bren can sniff through every word coming out of my mouth. “She’s doing something for Misha.”
“Misha,” Bren says, practically spitting on the ground. “Taran is working for Misha?”
Bren has as much love for our resident master vampire as the rest of the weres. “Yes.”
“And Gemini allowed it?” Bren asks. He’s not really asking, he’s telling me that there’s no way her mate is on board with Team Misha, and he’s right.
“I think ‘allowed’ is too strong a word,” I admit. I crinkle my nose, remembering the way Gemini lost his mind when he found out. His twin wolf shot out of his back and snapped the kitchen table in half.
Bren chuckles. “Aw, man. Taran didn’t tell Gemini she was working for Misha, did she?”
“Um,” is all I say.
Bren shakes his head. “Let me guess, Shayna sang like a canary, didn’t she?”
“Ah,” I reply. See? This is why I don’t talk much.
His smile turns slick. “Kind of like you’re about to do. Right now. To me. Start singing.”
My mouth opens slightly. “I will not.”
Bren leans forward. “So, you do know? What’s she’s doing for Misha? And what the hell trouble is she in this time?”
I tried to be a spy once. I had a disguise and a mission and everything. We refer to it
