Page 146 of Knot Like Other Girls

The diner sits on a corner, its large windows offering views of both the street and the lake beyond. A faded red awning extends over the entrance, and a hand-painted sign is painted with "Mabel's" in whimsical yellow lettering. Several cars are parked out front, and I can see movement through the windows.

"Busy," Liam observes.

"Always is," Troy confirms. "Worth the wait."

Roman finds a parking spot about fifty feet down from the diner. Before he's even shut off the engine, Liam is scanning the street, his intense gaze sweeping over pedestrians and storefronts alike even though we're in a quaint village.

"I wasn't aware Sweetwater was known for its high crime rate," I say dryly.

Liam's mouth twitches. "Force of habit, little omega."

"Besides," Troy chimes in as we exit the vehicle, "we've got precious cargo now."

I roll my eyes at this, but secretly, I'm touched by their protectiveness. It's not the possessive, controlling behavior Braxley displayed. They want me safe because they care about me, not because I'm an asset or accessory. And if I wanted them to back off, they would.

Honestly, though?

I'm enjoying every minute of this.

The morning air hits me as I step out of the SUV, crisp and fresh. I breathe in deeply, letting it clear my head a little. The suppressants are working, but there's still an underlying warmth spreading through me, a subtle restlessness that makes everything slightly more vibrant, slightly more intense.

We form a natural configuration as we walk toward the diner—Roman and Liam leading the way, Savva and Troy flanking me, and Cole a solid presence at my back. To anyone watching,it must look like a military escort rather than a breakfast outing, and I have to stifle a laugh at the thought.

"What?" Cole asks, his voice close to my ear.

"Just thinking we look like we're on a mission rather than heading for pancakes."

His chuckle is rough and nervous. "Probably."

As we approach the diner, heads turn. It's subtle at first—a pause in conversation, a lingering glance—but unmistakable.

Roman pulls open the door, and a bell tinkles cheerfully. Warm air scented with coffee, maple syrup, and bacon envelops us, along with the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware. The diner is bustling, nearly every table occupied with locals enjoying their breakfast.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. Conversations falter mid-sentence, coffee cups hover halfway to mouths, a waitress freezes with a stack of plates in her hands. Then, as if someone has pressed play again, movement and sound resume, though with a noticeable undercurrent of curiosity.

An older woman with silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun approaches us, warm smile firmly in place despite the slight widening of her eyes at the sight of five enormous, intimidating alphas crowding her entrance.

"Welcome to Mabel's," she says, her voice strong and clear. "Table for six?"

"Yes, please," Roman replies. "Booth if you have one."

"For you boys? Always." She winks at him, then turns to me with friendly interest. "Haven't seen you around before, honey."

"I'm Bella," I offer, smiling back at her. "First time in Sweetwater."

"Well, you picked the right place for breakfast." She gathers menus and gestures for us to follow. "I'm Mabel, by the way. This place is my baby, forty years and counting."

She leads us through the diner to a corner booth, larger than the others and somewhat separated from the main seating area. As we make our way between the tables, I notice how people react to us. There are a few startled double-takes at Cole's scarred face, quickly masked but still obvious. A few elderly betas and omegas eye Liam's tattoos with clear wariness, particularly the one on the side of his head. But when they notice Troy, they relax visibly.

Guess he's popular here.

The booth Mabel leads us to is U-shaped, with red vinyl seating that's seen better days but looks clean and well-maintained. Cole immediately slides in first, positioning himself in the corner with his scarred right side facing the wall. He's smooth about it, but I know why he's sitting there.

I slide in next to him, making sure to settle close enough that our shoulders touch lightly. His quick glance tells me he understands the gesture, and the slight relaxation in his posture is reward enough.

The others arrange themselves around the table—Savva next to me, then Troy, with Roman and Liam taking the opposite side. It's a tight fit with five large alpha bodies, but somehow comfortable rather than cramped.

"Coffee all around?" Mabel asks, distributing menus.

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