Nick’s tongue flicked over his teeth before the slightest smirk appeared. “You borrow my friend, you bring him back how you found him.”
“I would’ve paid to see my baby brother put in his place.”
Nick’s eyes met his, and for a second, the bar fell away. It was just the two of them, breathing the same air, existing in the same space. The moment stretched taut as a wire.
“You need help with that?” Logan gestured toward the tray.
“No. No, I’m good. Just need to...” Nick gestured vaguely toward a table where three guys in construction gear were gesturing impatiently. “Customers.”
“Right. Work calls.” Logan stepped back, releasing his grip on Nick’s elbow. The loss of contact felt immediate and cold, like stepping out of sunlight.
Nick turned to leave but paused. His head tilted slightly, like he was considering something. Then he looked back, and their eyes met again. The connection felt almost physical, a taut line drawn between them.
Logan winked. Just a small thing. Meant to be reassuring.
Nick’s face flushed pink as he turned away, nearly colliding with a server carrying a tray. The flush deepened as he steadied himself and disappeared into the crowd.
Logan wrapped his fingers around his drink, but his attention stayed on Nick as the guy worked. The efficiency of his movements. The way he smiled at customers even though something in his body language suggested he was running on fumes.
Something didn’t sit right. Not in a dangerous way. More like watching someone balance on a tightrope and knowing one wrong step would matter.
His wolf paced restlessly, wanting to approach, to investigate, to understand why this particular human had gotten under his skin so quickly.
Patience, Logan told himself, taking a sip of his bourbon. The taste was dark and familiar, but it couldn’t quite distract from the way Nick had felt under his hand. Solid. Real. Important in a way that made no sense after a thirty-second interaction.
“You good?” Preston appeared beside him, having apparently escaped Zeppelin’s embrace for a bathroom run or something.
“Fine,” Logan said, but his eyes tracked Nick across the bar.
Preston followed his gaze then looked back with that knowing expression that came with being mated to their alpha.
Something inside him jolted hard, a lightning strike to his marrow. His wolf surged up so violently Logan’s jaw locked, canines threatening to punch free. Heat seared through his chest, molten and possessive, crushing his lungs until his next breath came as a ragged, animal gasp.
Nick was his mate.
Chapter Two
Nick forced his attention back to the construction workers, their voices already impatient, already demanding. The tallest one—sunburned neck, calloused hands—drummed his fingers on the table in a rhythm that matched the pounding behind Nick’s eyes.
“What’ve you got for appetizers?” the guy asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Nick recited the list he’d quickly skimmed before his shift started. Each word felt slippery, hard to grip, requiring concentrated effort.
“Wings,” the second guy said. “Extra hot. And bring us three more beers.”
Nick nodded, scribbling the order with a pen that weighed a thousand pounds. His hand ached as he wrote, muscles bunching tight. He flexed his fingers once they were free of the pen, trying to work out the tension.
A cramp twisted low in his belly. Nick’s breath caught. He steadied himself against the table edge, using it as an anchor while the pain radiated outward from his core like ripples in water.
Not now. Please not now.
He straightened, forced a smile, and turned away from the table. His legs moved automatically, carrying him toward the kitchen. Each step felt like negotiating with his own body, like convincing muscles that didn’t want to cooperate to do their job anyway.
The bar spun slightly as he passed the counter. Nick blinked hard, refocusing on the kitchen door. That was all he had to do. Get the order in. Keep moving. Play it cool.
His eyes found Logan again without permission. The guy was leaning against the bar now, drink untouched in front of him, completely focused on Nick. Not in a casual way. No, his whole body was angled toward Nick like he was a magnet and Logan couldn’t help but point in his direction.
Something about that attention made the muscle contractions worse. Not physically, but emotionally. Like his body was reacting to being seen, to being watched so carefully, and didn’t know how to process it.
