“Didn’t expect you tonight,” Slater finally says in my direction.
My heart does a strange little twist. “Should I leave?”
A beat of silence. Then, “No,” Slater says. Simple. Firm.
“Definitely not,” Mason adds quickly, nudging a dish toward me. “We like you better than we like each other.”
“I bet you’ve got better jokes than us too,” Dylan says, grinning sideways.
“And a better smile,” Jasper adds, low like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
The others turn to look at him, but he’s already devouring a dumpling.
I just smile, heat blooming under my skin. Whatever it is, I’m not running. I pop the dumpling into my mouth and raise a brow.
“Well?” Dylan watches me like I’m a food critic about to tank his Yelp rating.
I tap my lip thoughtfully. “Okay. They’re good.”
“Good?” Mason looks personally offended. “They’regreat. Those dumplings are our secret weapon. They’re why half our clients rebook.”
“Wrong,” Dylan says. “Clients rebook because I’m the fun one.”
Slater takes a slow sip of beer. “Pretty sure they come back despite you.”
“That one-star review wasn’t about me,” Dylan counters. “It was the seagull.”
I pause mid-bite. “What seagull?”
Slater doesn’t glance up. “You don’t want to know.”
“You really don’t,” Jasper adds.
“She absolutely does,” Dylan says, grinning at me.
I lean over. “If a seagull stole your clothes or your pride, I’m gonna need the full story.”
“It was one rogue seagull with a death wish,” Mason says, passing me the sauce.
“It dive-bombed me during lunch,” Dylan adds, grimacing. “Snatched the sandwich out of my hands mid-bite, and I lost my balance and fell over the whole damn picnic table.”
My eyebrows lift. “Savage.”
“I landed on the mayo,” he says darkly. “Whole tub. Popped the lid clean off. I slid through it like a hockey puck.”
My lips part. “Wait… so?—”
“Mayo. In my shorts. In mysoul,” he says, pointing at me like I should understand the trauma. “It took three showers and a pressure hose to feel clean again.”
Slater coughs, clearly holding back a laugh. “He screamed like he’d been shot.” The other guys are howling with laughter.
“I thought Iwasshot!” Dylan states. “By a condiment!”
I giggle, imagining him covered in mayo.
“What about you? What do you think of Mistberry Cove so far?” Mason nudges the conversation forward with a grin.
I shrug, swirling a dumpling through sauce. “It’s charming. Cold. Best café. Maybe too early to say. And for some reason, way too many suspiciously handsome men.”
