“I don’t think I’ve seen you eat pancakes in a decade.”
Hayes is pretty vigilant about his physique, which shows to an annoying degree. Meanwhile, I could probably find room in my bottomless belly for both of our meals. Especially if I could lick the syrup off of his—
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Hayes mumbles into his coffee, his eyebrows waggling. He’s trying to be silly, but it’s undeniably sexy.
I cross my legs, self-conscious about the ache between my thighs. “Can we not do this for like five minutes?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.
Hayes lifts an eyebrow. “Do what?”
“Play games. Tease, make fun, et cetera.” I’m the one mumbling now. I’m known to start a fight and then wave the white flag of surrender within the first round. I’ve always been a peacemaker. It’s just my personality. “Can we just be nice to each other?”
“Okay, we can do that. We can be nice.” Hayes sits up straighter and whips his cloth napkin off the table, the silverware inside clattering everywhere, just to tuck it into his shirt collar.
I snort with laughter, covering my face and praying that no one in this diner is staring.
He waves my napkin in front of my face. I snatch it with a giggle, tucking it into the neckline of my polo.
“Tell me, Miss Maren, how are you on this fine morning?”
“Is this supposed to make us feel proper? Because I just feel dumb.”
“You’ve never looked better. How’s work?”
I don’t have time to react to his compliment. My smile falls into a solemn frown. “It’s okay.”
“It doesn’t . . . look okay.” Whether he means to or not, Hayes matches my frown, his forehead furrowed with deep lines of concern. He pulls the napkin from his collar, then reaches to pull mine out too. Suddenly, the joke is over. “What’s wrong, dove? Talk to me.”
I sigh. I haven’t told anyone about this yet. I guess it’s fitting it should be Hayes. How can I say no to those honey-colored eyes?
“There was a meeting at Riverside yesterday morning. I guess one of the big donors we usually count on to make a yearly contribution decided to give it to the art museum instead. Which is, like, great for the art museum. They need money too. But . . .”
“Is Riverside going to be okay?” he asks, knowing how important it is to me.
I shrug, blinking back tears. “I don’t know. The meeting was so serious. Usually, Peggy brings coffee cake or something, but yesterday . . . she was wrecked. I could tell she’d been up all night, crying. They outright told us to start looking for other jobs.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Now there’s snot dripping from my nose, so I wipe it away with the cloth napkin.
Hayes reaches across the table, almost as if he’s going to take my hand. But his fingers halt inches from mine. Close, but not close enough.
Sadness stews deep inside me, ready to bulldoze right through me again.
In that moment, our server reappears with plates of steaming food that make my mouth water. I wipe my tears away with a sheepish smile, accepting my plate. It smells delicious, and as I inhale, my sadness fades.
“Note to self. If Maren is sad, bring her sweet things,” Hayes says with a chuckle.
I don’t even care that he’s making fun of me again, because these pancakes are amazing. And as concerned as I am about Riverside, I know worrying right now won’t solve anything.
But that place is so much more than just a job to me. It’s almost like a second home. And I do it all, whatever needs to be done . . . answer phones, return emails, follow up on insurance claims, the list goes on. But my favorite thing to do is to talk with the residents. Find out their stories.
“Hey,” Hayes says, pulling my attention from my plate until I refocus on the man across from me, whose expression is strange. Beneath the concern, there’s something like . . . determination? “We’re going to figure this out. I’ll help you save Riverside.”
I blink back my surprise. “Are you actually going to help me?”
“I said I would. What’s that supposed to mean?”
“This isn’t going to be like that time you ditched me at the movies to go get some with Missy Carter?” I smirk at him.
“Okay, I did ditch you, but back then, seventeen-year-old me wanted his dick sucked by Missy more than I wanted to live through senior year. I did go back and get you when the movie ended,” he adds with a smile.
Reaching across the table, I swat him with the back of my hand. “Jerk,” I mutter, but I’m grinning back at him.
This time when Hayes reaches across the table, our hands clasp and my heart skips a beat.
“I promise I’ll help,” he murmurs, his eyes locking with mine. “Whatever I can do and however I can help, I’ll do it for you . . . for Riverside. You have my word, dove.”
My heart goes splat.
3
* * *
HAYES
Dinner out with the guys is a casual affair, and usually one I look forward to. But something feels off about tonight.
To be honest, I don’t want to be here. My guess is it’s because I haven’t been able to get Maren off my mind, but it could also be because my so-called friends forced me into taking some time off last week, and I’m still feeling guilty about it.
Cheeseburgers and beers from McGil’s solve most problems, though, so things are beginning to look up. Our server delivers our food, along with a stack of extra napkins we didn’t ask for but are certain to need.
After setting down the plates, she lingers at our table a moment too long. I’m sure she sees three successful, attractive bachelors when she looks at us, and she’s not wrong. But guys’ night is sacred, and even Connor knows better than to go hunting for pussy during guys’ night at McGil’s.
“We’re all set, thanks,” Wolfie tells her, flashing an annoyed glance her way, and she scurries off.
Connor shakes his head at him. “She seems nice.”
I watch their interaction with a distant sort of detachment, knowing I need to snap out of whatever this is. I’m distracted and edgy, and it’s only a matter of time until Wolfie notices. The dude picks up on everything, and it’s almost impossible to hide something from him.
“You good?” Wolfie asks, appraising me from across the table with a creased brow.
“Yeah.”
“Come on, Hayes. We know you better than that. What’s going on with you?” Wolfie levels me with a serious glare.
Knowing better than to blow him off, I rub a hand over the stubble on my jaw and decide to go with the answer that doesn’t reveal that I’ve been thinking about what his sister would look like naked. “Um, shit went sideways last week with Samantha. It’s not a big deal.”
“Samantha? She was your flavor of the month, right?” Connor chuckles into his beer. “What the hell happened this time?”
I groan out a sound that my friends interpret correctly.
“That bad, huh?” Connor gives me a mocking look.
I grab a couple of napkins and dig into my meal. I’ve had longer relationships with one of these burgers than he’s had with a woman. The dude’s allergic to monogamy. A total playboy. He and I don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but he’s been a friend since college and is one of my business partners, so I do my best to play nice.