Page 45 of Bears Not Included

He doesn’t ask for directions to Jimmy’s either, which is definitely not in the nicer part of the city, but even without any kind of navigation assistance, he knows exactly how to get there, handling the car as if it were a toy in his hands.

As soon as he pulls into a parking space at the back entrance of Jimmy’s, I swing the car door open and climb out.

I don’t say anything to him. Nothing, no goodbye, no thank you. I make it to the bathroom of the diner without being seen and drench my face in cold water, and then I pinch my nipples hard, hoping they’ll just soften. I hate that I also have to clean up my fresh underwear. But try as I might, I can’t rid myself of the image of Callen penetrating me the way he said he would.

I’m losing my mind.

When I return from the staff bathroom, I gather my apron, hanging from a nail in the kitchen, and greet my way from Jimmy to Babs. I don’t tell them I have to resign because I got fake married to a trio of crime lords. But I do have to think about how I’m going to approach finding a replacement for me when I decide to leave the country with a new identity. It’s all such a mess.

The diner is slowly filling up with its regulars. I don’t even need to hand out menus since everyone comes in for the same thing every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday lunch, but I do because that’s how it’s done. And then, for the second time in one day, I stop dead in my tracks.

Seated in the diner is none other than Callen Andrews himself. In his obscenely expensive suit, he looks both incredibly handsome and undeniably powerful. He sticks out from the regulars, and it’s so painfully obvious he doesn’t belong there that it hurts my eyes.

The regulars are all staring at him and whispering in awe. Jimmy and Babs are already bemused by his presence.

Well, not me.

My head held stiff, I walk up to him. “What are you doing here?” My tone is blunt, and I can’t care.

“If you’re not in our home, then one of us needs to be with you all the time. That’s just the way it’s going to be for us. It’s Mason’s turn tomorrow.”

“My shift is four hours,” I say incredulously.

“It is,” Callen agrees, and I’m at a loss for words. He’s not going to be seated there for the whole four hours, is he?

“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need a babysitter,” I grumble as I storm away and instead bump into Jimmy and Babs, who want to welcome their new patron personally. New patron, my ass.

I’m too furious to pay any attention to the conversation until I hear Jimmy tell Callen I’ll be taking good care of him, and Callen replies that he knows his wife will indeed take good care of him. Which in turn had me explaining rather haphazardly that I was married; yes, it happened suddenly, and I had to show them my ring.

I’m so over this now.

I plan to ignore Callen completely, but I soon cave in on my silent vow to refuse to serve him. Eventually, I bring him the menu. Callen smiles as if he won something and orders tea and nothing else.

After two hours, I can barely take it anymore. His presence just bothers me.

“Can you please leave? You're... bothering the customers.”

What he’s actually doing is enchanting the customers. They keep looking at him in his suit, which costs tens of thousands of dollars. Not to mention his impossibly handsome face and easy smile, which literally melt all common sense.

Half the restaurant wants to throw themselves at Callen, while the other half looks at him in awe. Both are terrible things to watch.

“You still have two hours left,” he reminds me, as if I haven’t been watching the minutes tick over.

Argh.

To say working under such unimaginable circumstances as having one of three husbands watch every move I make as I serve hungry customers is the most unnerving thing ever would be an understatement. I can’t imagine doing the same thing again when it’s Mason’s turn.

For a minute, I contemplate standing on the table and telling everyone what they did to me and who they are. But I’d have to implicate myself because I’m the one who came for them when they demanded it, and my pride won’t be able to handle it. Also, they already told me they don’t care who I tell or what I say; my situation is not going to change.

No one is happier than I am when my shift ends. I’ve already helped clean the kitchen when Babs insists, I go home—she’ll take care of the tables.

I take the bags of leftovers and head out toward an alley up the road. Callen follows me curiously and silently, then watches as I hand out food to a group of homeless people.

There’s Rocky, Martha, Bobby, Chip, Queenie, and Lily. I’ve been feeding them since I started working at Jimmy’s three years ago. Three years ago, there was also someone who tried to attack me right here on this street. But he’s not around anymore, thankfully.

When I’m done, Callen gives me a smile that makes my knees quake and drives me back to my prison.

I don’t have a home anymore. It seems I don’t have a father either. He still isn’t taking any of my calls—I tried him another three or four times during my shift.

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