Wren turns and catches me looking. Her steps falter for half a second before she recovers and heads my way, coffee pot still in hand.
“Morning,” she says when she reaches the counter. Her eyes are clearer than they were that first week. Less shadowed. But there’s still a hint of nerves there when she meets my gaze.
“Morning,” I answer.
She tops off my cup even though it’s already full. Her fingers brush the rim and she pulls back like she touched something hot.
“You want the usual?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah.”
She scribbles it down on her pad even though she doesn’t need to. I’ve ordered the same thing every morning for years. Eggs, bacon, toast. Nothing fancy.
“Coming right up,” she says, and moves away before I can say anything else.
I watch her go. Not in a way that draws attention. Just enough to track the set of her shoulders. The way she moves like she’s always bracing for impact.
“You’re staring,” Mae murmurs under her breath, sliding a plate onto the pass-through.
“I’m not,” I say automatically.
Mae snorts. “You’re about as subtle as a brick, Calder Hale.”
I take a sip of coffee instead of responding. Mae has known me too long to be fooled by silence. She leans her elbows on the counter and lowers her voice.
“She’s been here a month and still jumps every time the door slams,” she says. “Came in with nothing but a backpack and a car that sounded like it was held together with duct tape and prayer.”
My jaw tightens. “She tell you why?”
Mae shakes her head. “Didn’t ask. Girl deserves to have some things that are just hers.”
I respect that. But it doesn’t stop the protective instinct from coiling low in my gut. A woman doesn’t land in a mountain town with nothing unless she’s running from something.
Wren returns with my plate balanced on her arm. She sets it down carefully, aligning the fork and knife like it matters.
“Anything else?” she asks.
I glance at her hands. They’re steady now. “You eat yet?”
She blinks. “What?”
“You eat breakfast?” I repeat.
Color creeps into her cheeks. “I had toast.”
“That’s not breakfast,” I say.
Her mouth twitches like she’s fighting a smile. “It is if you’re in a hurry.”
“You’re always in a hurry,” Mae cuts in. “Sit down and eat after this rush or I’m docking your pay.”
Wren’s eyes widen. “You can’t dock my pay.”
“Watch me,” Mae says sweetly.
Wren huffs a quiet laugh and shakes her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
She looks back at me for a second, and there’s something warmer in her expression now. Less guarded. “Enjoy,” she says, nodding at my plate.
