She snorts. "Fair point." She picks up a menu. "So what brings a tattoo artist to Honeyridge Falls? We're not exactly a hotbed of body art enthusiasm."
"Fresh start. Friend recommended it."
"Friend have a name?"
"Elijah Smith."
Something shifts in her expression. "Elijah's good people. If he sent you here, you're probably not a serial killer after all."
"Told you. Solid six out of five."
She laughs - actually laughs this time. "Okay, maybe this won't be completely awful."
A waitress appears—older woman with kind eyes and a name tag that says Millie. "Well, well. Bea Wilson." Her gaze flicks between us, interest sharp. "And with the new tattoo artist. That didn't take long."
"Hi, Millie. This is Grayson."
"Welcome to Honeyridge Falls, honey." Millie grins. "What can I get you two?"
"Water," Bea says. "And the bacon cheeseburger. Extra pickles. Fries. Onion rings. And a side of mac and cheese."
I stare at her. She's maybe five feet tall, and she just ordered enough food for two people.
She catches my look. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You're judging my food choices."
"I'm impressed by your food choices." And I am. Tiny omega with zero fucks to give about ordering what she wants. "I'll have the same."
Millie laughs outright. "Two of everything. You got it, honey."
The second she's gone, Bea leans forward. "So, just so you know, by tomorrow the entire town will think we're dating."
"Even though this isn't a date."
"Especially because this isn't a date." She shakes her head. "That's how it works here."
"Good to know."
"You don't seem bothered."
I meet her eyes. "Should I be?"
She blinks. Then sits back, something flickering across her face. "You're weird."
"So I've been told."
"I mean it as a compliment."
"I know."
Yeah. Disappearing in this town is definitely not happening.
But looking at Bea across the table—still guarded but smiling, with her cinnamon-apple scent wrapping around me and that spark of humor in her eyes—I find I don't mind as much as I thought I would.
Chapter 7
