Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

Rosie smiled guiltily. “How am I supposed to give a good impression looking like a hobo who clawed her way to work? I’ll be right back, honey.”

 

 

I reached in my pocket for a black band. Instead of a full ponytail, I took the hair from both sides of my head and tied them back.

 

A familiar face strolled into the bar. The customers tapped their feet to a folksy song playing on the jukebox, not taking notice of the alpha. Lorenzo’s black hair fell over his brown shoulders, just as smooth and straight as could be. He looked like the angel of death—dark hair and eyes, dark tank top and pants, and a look of menace. My eyes skated to the skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his left arm. Leather bracelets with tassels adorned his wrists, and a rope necklace looped around his neck.

 

Lorenzo caught sight of me at the bar and strolled up, easing into the seat to my left. Denver had taken the night off to go to the concert, so Frank was filling in. He handed Lorenzo a drink without asking for his order. “Here you are, Church.”

 

Lorenzo’s eyes flicked down to the ligature marks on my wrist, and he unexpectedly snatched my arm, holding it up for a better look.

 

“Did the Weston pack do this?”

 

I pulled back. “No.”

 

His steely eyes narrowed. “If you lie to me, I’ll find out. If I discover they aren’t treating their women right, there’ll be trouble.”

 

“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.”