Page 14 of Fragile Heart

The woman turns to me and offers a hand. “Nice to meet you! There’s been tons of buzz the last week about you. What would you like to drink?”

I keep my face a happy, empty smile. I’m not surprised the gossip about me has made it to the bars despite it only being a week since I moved into Emily’s guest house. It’s certainly all over the Rustic Roast—despite Joan not encouraging it at all as far as I can tell. Each time I’ve swung by since Emily coaxed me out of hiding on Tuesday, there’s been more eyes on me than when I ran the high stakes executive meetings at Hawkins Corp.

“Nice to meet you,” I offer. “I’ll take a Cape Cod.”

She raises an eyebrow even as she nods. “You want your normal, Mel?”

When she nods, Devynn turns away to make the drinks.

“Sorry,” Melissa says.

I shrug. “I figured there’d be people talking. I spent an entire summer under the microscope, remember?” Melissa worries at her lip, messing up the gloss she reapplied in the car. I palm her knee. “Really, Mel. Don’t worry about me. We came out to have some fun, so let’s do that, all right? People are going to talk, whether I’m here or not.”

Devynn comes back as I’m reassuring her, and she murmurs her agreement.

“Shiny object syndrome. Give it a couple weeks, and it should settle down.”

I slide my ID across the bar to start a tab, and Devynn shakes her head. “No need. I’ll make sure you pay out. Or make you deal with Marcus.”

Her eyes fill with humor, and I tilt my head.

“Marcus?” I ask.

Melissa giggles. “Her Newfoundland. He won’t hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. But he’ll get enough drool on you that you’ll wish you’d just done whatever Devynn asked of you.”

Devynn smiles and shrugs before moving farther down the bar, responding to someone’s wave. I tuck my ID away and take a sip of the cocktail, letting the bite of the vodka steal my focus. Melissa leans her head against my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile.

“Just like you to order something so fancy,” she says, a smile in her voice.

I laugh. “It didn’t occur to me until I’d already said it that she might not know what it is.”

“Devynn grew up in Boston,” she says.

Surprise lights through me. She doesn’t have the accent. Melissa must see my reaction because she sits up and takes a drink of her cocktail.

“She went to school in Jackson the same time we were going to school. She met Brandon while there, and they ended up friends. She moved here when she graduated and set up The Outpost.” Melissa’s voice wavers a bit, but she takes another drink to hide it. I grab her hand. “Anyway, she says she’s been here long enough to drop the accent. But, really, I think she just hates sounding like an outsider. Things like that are a big thing in a little town.”

I trace the rim of my drink as I force a deep breath. Melissa squeezes my hand. The song changes, but I ignore it, trying to let my mind empty out. Before I can quite manage it, Devynn clears her throat. Melissa straightens, dropping my hand, suddenly incredibly focused on the drink sitting in front of her.

“The guy at the end wants to buy you a beer,” Devynn says when I look at her. “As I’m not one who likes to waste beer or money, I figured I’d ask you before opening it.”

Melissa glances down the line before I do. Her nose scrunches before she hides it behind her cup. I try to keep my look more subtle, just in case he’s watching. Turns out, he isn’t. What kind of guy doesn’t at least watch while the bartender delivers their number?

He’s maybe a year or so younger than me and seems vaguely familiar. His red flannel shirt hangs open, revealing an unassuming white tee underneath. His cowboy hat is ivory and looks brand new—not a single sun spot or discolored patch from sweat.

Do people here have a specific hat they wear when they go out? Like the women I used to hang out with had specialty dresses for when they were going to spend a night on the town? The thought makes me giggle, but I don’t let it out of my mouth.

“No, thank you,” I tell Devynn.

Turning him down might make for more problems than I really care to deal with. But it’s leagues better than being stucktalking to someone all night when I have no intention of dating for the foreseeable future. And I’m not one for casual hookups. I’m not built like that. From what I’ve read of other Omegas, it’s a trait many of us share.

Devynn nods. “Figured as much. I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks,” I offer as she turns away.

Melissa sighs. “Sorry.”

I shake my head. “I’m the pretty new toy. It’s fine, Mel.”

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