Saint wandered inside, shaking his head.
And Trigger?
Trigger leaned against the doorway and turned his best “I’m trouble but in a charming way” smile on her.
They were going to kill each other.
Or get married.
Really, it could go either way.
Later that afternoon,I headed over with a folder of old town maps—Saint had asked for help identifying some of the structure’s original layout.
The tavern door was open.
Dust hung in the air.
Music played from someone’s phone—classic rock, loud enough to vibrate the floorboards.
Trigger was on a ladder installing lighting.
Saint was painting.
Havoc was ripping out trim with unnecessary violence.
Wolf was sanding a railing with slow, methodical strokes.
And Riley was sitting on the bar eating one of my croissants she gave me like she owned the place.
Trigger spotted me first. “HEY! Nora’s here!”
Riley smiled. “Oh, good.” Riley winked at me.
I held up the folder. “I have the old tavern plans—if you want them.”
Wolf set down the sander and walked toward me. “Thank you. This helps.”
Riley hopped off the bar. “I was just keeping them entertained.”
Wolf shot her a flat look. “No. You were causing a distraction.”
She smirked. “Same thing.”
Trigger hopped off the ladder. “Nora, look. I installed this crooked!”
“It’s not crooked,” Saint said, not looking up.
“It will be if Riley keeps messing with me,” Trigger argued.
Riley rolled her eyes. “I literally breathed.”
“Youbreathe distracting,” Trigger shot back.
She winked. “I know.”
Wolf pinched the bridge of his nose like he already had a Riley-induced migraine.
He looked at me. “You bring tranquilizers by any chance?”
