“Okay,” I mumble. Nate grins at me widely.
“Just lunch?” I want to bite the words back, my wariness seeping out into the air.
Ironically, it’s Cade who offers the most reassurance. He holds an arm out in front of Nate, stopping him from stepping closer.
“Just lunch,” he reassures me. “You’ll be back in an hour.”
Untying my apron, I hang it carefully over the sink. “All right. I’m not really dressed for out there though.”
“I think some fresh air might be in order,” Cade says. “How do you feel about Mexican food?”
I wouldn’t turn it down, even if I hated it. You don’t turn food down when you know what it’s like to not have any.
Axel slips in beside me, offering his arm. My hands slip around the familiar softness, and I can’t resist rubbing at the material as he escorts me out and the pack follows.
I definitely need to convince him to swap out.
ChapterTwenty-One
Cade
We walk down the street, flanking Gabrielle between us as we make for our favorite lunchtime spot. Glancing down, I catch her studying me and she blushes, turning away.
I’m trying to withhold judgment, to be the voice of reason in a group that has clearly already staked their claim on this omega, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
Another alpha, tall and skinny with a weaselly looking face, stares at Gabrielle as he walks past. Gabrielle notices, shrinking into me until her sweet scent fills my nose.
So much fucking better than coconuts.
When I glare at him, shifting towards her, he looks away, giving us a wide berth as he scuttles past.
We enter the small Mexican restaurant, making for our favorite booth in the back corner where we can eat undisturbed. It’s a little battered, ripped leather seats and graffitied tables, but the food is to die for.
I frown. We should have brought her somewhere nicer than this, but it’s too late now.
Gabrielle hesitates, and I nod at the others, all of us sliding in and leaving the seat at the end free for her. Her shoulders relax before she sits down.
“So,” Nate begins. “Do you like Mexican food, kitten?”
Gabrielle worries her plump lower lip with her teeth. “I don’t know,” she admits. Tendrils of hair hang down from her face, the angle that I’m sitting in hiding her expression from me.
Hudson jumps in, his eyebrows flying up with shock. “You haven’t had Mexican food before?”
I frown at him when she shrugs, her hands rubbing at her arms. She doesn’t look comfortable.
Flagging down the tired-looking waitress, I order soda for everyone and some water. It comes in a bottle, and Gabrielle offers me a small smile when I pass it to her unopened.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I nod in response. The others settle into quiet chat, allowing Gabrielle to get her bearings as we scan the menu. Her fingers move from the mains to the side orders, moving from one price range to the other.
Clearing my throat, I gently clasp her fingers for a second, and she glances up at me with those damn eyes.
“Lunch is on me,” I murmur. “I think we can do a little better than a sandwich this time.”
She flushes. “I can pay.”
It’s Nate who intercedes with an eye-roll. “You’ll have to let him. He’s a bit of a control-freak.”
