I blink. “This is the place?”
“Best damn breakfast around,” he says, completely serious. “Besides, they’ve got a pancake challenge, and I wanna see you try and hang.”
The inside is no less ridiculous. There are booths shaped like eggs, a neon sign that shoutsLet’s Get Stacked, and a menu built by someone who worships butter and laughs in the face of cholesterol.
We slide into a booth, and just as I’m settling in, a waitress swings by with two mugs, filling them with steaming coffee before either of us even has the chance to ask. Hex nods his thanks, lifting his cup to take a relaxed sip. I take a moment to breathe in the rich, roasted smell mixed with the delicious scent of syrup and fried dough.
It’s oddly… homey. Comfortable.
Then I notice Hex watching me over the rim of his mug, as if he’s waiting for something.
“What?” I ask, raising a brow.
He nods toward my phone I placed on the table. “Make sure you snap a picture of us and post it. Tag the bar.”
I squint at him. “Why?”
That fucking smirk. “Because it’s the only social media I have, and I got a feeling our blonde friend might be watching.”
“Oh, you arediabolical.”I grin, unlocking my phone. “Alright, but we need a picture together first.”
I slide off of my bench and ease in beside him, phone in hand, angling for the perfect shot. Hex doesn’t miss a beat. He drapes his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in until I’m pressed against the heat of him.
On instinct, I tip my head toward him, and the screen captures us perfectly. Hex with his no-nonsense smug look, a knowing glint in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline sharp against the buttery glow of the restaurant lights. And me, slightly flushed, smiling just enough to show I’m enjoying this, even if I won’t admit to myself that this might just work.
He might just work.
I snap another, and Hex tilts his head just enough so his mouth is near my temple, the warmth of his breath teasing my skin like he’s about to say something mischievous. It’s the kind of photo thatlooksintimate, even if it isn’t.
I scooch back over to my side, scrolling through the shots before finally choosing one. “What’s the caption?”
He barely hesitates. “Bangin’ in the morning, stackin’ for lunch.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Hex!”
“What?” He leans back in the booth, all easy confidence, as he makes pistols with his fingers. “It’s the truth.”
I bite my lip to hide my smile and type it out, tagging the bar as instructed.
The post goes up, and not even a minute later, my phone buzzes with a notification.
Right on time.
The username makes my stomach twist. @MuffinsMommy.
Of course.The damn terriers.
Then I see the comment.
[@MuffinsMommy]:Didn’t take you long to spread your legs for someone new, huh?
My fingers tighten around the phone.
Like six months isn’t long enough?Wait. What am I talking about? I haven’t even spread my legs…yet.
The comments aren’t even subtle anymore. She’s dropping all pretense, going straight for the kill. My stomach knots with equal parts irritation and unease. She wants me to react. She wants me to feel watched.
Before I can react, Hex reaches across the table, his large, calloused hand covering mine. His fingers are steady as they ground me. “I got you,” he says, low and certain.
