Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(92)

“They treat their women like gold. We should all be so lucky to be in a pack like theirs.”
He shifted in his seat and gave me a critical stare. “Then why aren’t you with them? Word is you’re a wolf. A good bitch shouldn’t be alone without a strong pack to look out for her.”
Lorenzo took a short sip of his drink and waited for an answer.
“Maybe some of you guys who live in a pack aren’t so nice to your unmated girls,” I implied, careful not to insult an alpha. “There’s a difference between a sense of belonging and belonging to someone. I have a great job and—”
“Ligature marks on your wrist.”
“That was an ex.”
“Did Cole take care of that ex?”
I grabbed the tray of drinks Frank handed me. “Don’t worry about the Cole brothers; they take care of things just fine. Let me know if you want something off the menu and I’ll put a rush on it,” I said in a friendly voice. Nosy or not, Lorenzo undoubtedly had tip money in his pocket waiting for a lucky girl, and I had no idea who his regular was.
After delivering drinks to my customers, I dipped down and lifted a black wallet off the floor. “Did you drop this?” I asked the dark man with the friendly smile.
“It’s not often you find an honest person,” he said in a baritone voice, taking the wallet from my hand.
“Well that was an experience,” a brunette said, flouncing by and collapsing in the seat beside him. After kissing his cheek, she wrinkled her nose. “The bathrooms are nasty. Can we go somewhere else?”
He tucked the wallet in his back pocket and lifted his eyes to mine. “I think we’ll stay a while and order something off the menu.”
“The avocado burgers are amazing,” I suggested. “I know the cook on this shift, and he’s a genius.”
“Bring one for each of us. Fries?”
“Coming up.”
“Uh, I want a salad,” the woman complained as she tried to cross her thick legs.
I lifted the tray. “I’ll have them put the light salad dressing on the side. Would you like lemon-water?”
She smiled appreciatively. That was one thing I loved about my job: turning people’s moods around. “Yes, please. Thank you. Oh, and got any pickles?”
“You bet. I’ll have your order out as soon as possible. Be right back with your water, miss, and if you gentlemen need another round, just holler.”
I subtly turned, not wanting to offend the woman with any ass-shaking, and went to retrieve her water.
After a few tables cleared and my avocado-burger table left me a hefty tip, I slid into a booth in the back and officially went off the clock.
“Honey, what’s going on?” Rosie asked. “You seem like such a sweet girl, and I don’t like the look in your eyes.”
“What look?” I nibbled on a wedge of pickle and sipped root beer from a short glass.
“Every time someone comes flying through the front door, you freeze up and clutch your heart. I saw you drop a tray an hour ago when a couple of rowdy men slammed their fists on the table while playing cards.”
I grimaced and hoped none of the patrons had caught me doing that.
“Sorry, Rosie. My ex has made my life a living hell, and I’m just trying to move on.”
She laughed melodically and leaned back, the turquoise earrings swinging from her ears. “Oh, I know all about that. My first boyfriend came along when I was about twenty.” Rosie shook with silent laughter and waved her hand. “I was a late bloomer. His name was George, and I thought he was the one and only. He was a handsome young man with curly hair and a sweet mouth who kissed me every chance he could.”
My brows drew together. “What was wrong with him?”
“He was like Jekyll and Hyde. Just the sweetest boy, but behind closed doors…” Rosie shook her head. “An animal. Lucky for me, I have big knuckles,” she said, making a fist.
I finished my pickle and licked the juice off my thumb. “I don’t like fighting; maybe that’s why I bailed all those years ago from my home life. Yours is the kind of story that scares me because… it happened to me. I feel so stupid, like I should have seen who he was.”
Rosie leaned forward and patted my hand. “Honey, the devil paints the prettiest masks. Some of us learn that the hard way, but don’t blame yourself. I did that for years, and no good ever comes of it. Someday you’ll meet a man and you’ll be awful to him. You’ll say mean things and push him away, but he’ll keep pulling because he’ll see beyond your pain. Just don’t keep pushing. At some point, you have to let him in or you’ll lose him for good. Don’t look at every mark on a man as a reason to leave him—we’re all marked. Maybe it’s the ones who seem too perfect that are anything but,” she said contemplatively, tapping her chin. “The one thing I remember is how perfect George appeared. Everyone just loved him and said I was a lucky girl. I felt undeserving of that kind of man. Only later did he show his true colors, but maybe a man who hides his flaws is hiding something more wicked.”