She shrugs, popping a grape into her mouth. “Rowan arranged a car service. It should be here in fifteen minutes.”
The mug almost slips from my fingers. “A car service.”
“It’s safer.” Rowan reaches around me to grab his own coffee, his chest brushing my back, and I fight the urge to lean into his warmth. “Especially with everything that’s happened recently.”
Lena hops off her stool, gathering her backpack from the floor. “I’m going to finish getting ready. Thanks for breakfast, Rowan.”
She disappears down the hall, leaving me alone with the Alpha and the ridiculous breakfast spread. The scent of maple syrup mixes with coffee, so sweet it sticks in my throat.
“You’re spoiling her,” I mutter once she’s out of earshot.
Rowan circles the island and pulls out a stool. “Sit down and eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His hand catches my wrist, tugging me forward with gentle insistence. “Sit.”
I comply, but my spine remains rigid as I perch on the edge of the stool. Rowan doesn’t return to his seat. Instead, he moves behind me, hands settling on my shoulders. His thumbs dig into the knots at the base of my neck, and a traitorous sigh escapes me.
“Let me spoil you, too,” he whispers, his lips close to my ear.
Before I can respond, he reaches across the island for an untouched plate. He cuts a piece of pancake, dips it in maple syrup, and holds it to my lips.
“I’m not a baby. If I’m not hungry, I’m not hungry,” I protest right as my stomach growls, betraying me.
“Come on, humor me.” He wafts the bite of pancake beneath my nose. “Lena told me these were your favorite, but you never waste money on empty carbs.”
My stomach lets out another loud growl, and Irelent, opening my mouth. The sweet warmth melts on my tongue.
Rowan nuzzles behind my ear. “Good boy.”
“I will gut you like a fish,” I say before I open to accept the next bite he brings to my lips.
A pleased rumble comes from him as he slides a piece of bacon onto my plate.
“You’re thinking about finding new work, aren’t you?” he asks with a casualness that sets me on edge. “Lena mentioned you lost the diner job.”
My hand freezes over the bacon. “I’ve still got my locksmith jobs.”
“Which pay well but are irregular.” He takes a sip of coffee, watching me over the rim. “The police showing up twice might hinder finding steady employment.”
The bacon crunches between my teeth as I consider his words. He’s right, though I hate to admit it. My reputation has always been built on discretion and reliability. Police attention changes that calculation for potential clients.
“I might know someone who needs a locksmith on retainer.” Rowan pours more maple syrup onto the pancakes, the golden liquid pooling in the center. “Cash-heavy. Discreet. Regular hours so you can work around Lena’s schedule.”
It sounds too good to be true.
“What kind of locksmith work?” I keep my tone neutral, though my pulse picks up.
If I find a better job than the diner, one with hours giving me more time with Lena, maybe I can move us out of our shitty apartment and into somewhere safer.
“Security consultation, for the most part. Installation of specialized systems.” He cuts the pancake into bite-sized squares. “The owner of the Blue Note Lounge needs someone who understands both traditional locks and digital systems.”
I push my plate away, appetite gone. “And you just happen to know the owner.”
His mouth curves into a smile. “I’m the owner.”
Fuck. Not only a great apartment, a reliable car, a lawyer on retainer, but a business owner, too?
