Jasper’s brow lifts. “Suspiciously?”
“Let me guess—fishing skills come with knife skills. Which means you’re all secretly dangerous. Good to know.”
“You’re saying we’re handsome but look like murderers,” Dylan replies.
“If there were a murder, I wouldn’t be surprised if this dinner turned into a last meal.”
Slater looks up slowly. No smile. No warmth. Just those sharp eyes, cutting through the light like a blade. “You’re still here.”
I meet his stare and lift my glass. “Lucky for you, I’m excellent company.”
Dylan leans forward, grinning like he’s watching live entertainment. “She says, while comparing us to potential murderers.”
“I’m just saying,” I reply, shrugging. “This town has energy. The kind that makes you check your locks.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few fishermen,” Jasper says.
“Not afraid,” I say. “Cautious. Like those slasher movies. Or a secret society. Or maybe one of those midnight cooking competitions where the loser gets shivved.”
Dylan barks a laugh. “You watch way too much TV.”
“Or maybe I’ve just got good instincts.”
Slater still hasn’t looked away. “And what do those instincts say about us?”
“That you’re hiding secrets,” I say, holding his gaze.
There’s something magnetic about the way they all watch me, like I’ve already been claimed whether I agreed to it or not. I should be more cautious. I’ve known them for less than a day. But instead of warning bells, all I hear is the steady hum of curiosity. I feel lit up, like I’ve stepped into something I don’t understand yet but somehow already want.
I grab another dumpling and shoot them a grin.
Mason smiles. “Maybe we’re just naturally mysterious.”
“Or guilty,” I counter. “That’s the vibe I’m getting.”
Dylan leans in with a mock whisper. “She’s onto us, boys. Abort mission.”
I snort. “Too late. I already know at least one of you is trouble.”
Slater reaches for his drink. “Good,” he says. “Don’t waste that fire on anyone who can’t handle it.”
I take a prawn dumpling and pop it into my mouth. Rich and so delicious. My eyes close involuntarily as I chew, savoring every note of flavor. When I open them, all four Alphas are staring at me.
Mason swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Dylan wordlessly pushes another steamer basket toward me.
Jasper’s eyes are intense, his jaw tight.
Slater’s hands grip his chopsticks hard enough that I’m worried they might snap.
“That good?” Jasper asks.
“I might have been very wrong about not liking dumplings,” I admit, laughing to break the sudden tension. “These are incredible. Where has this restaurant been all my life?”
“Told you,” Dylan says triumphantly. “Though, I tried making dumplings once at home. Total disaster. Kitchen looked like a war zone.”
“They tasted decent,” Mason adds, but I catch the amused glance he shoots Dylan.
