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Wren

I’m desperate.

And a little foolish.

That’s the only explanation for the giddy feeling in my stomach when a familiar black SUV pulls into the parking lot. Why else would Fridays become my favorite day just because I get to see them?

Not that I’d ever do anything about it. That’s a little too out of my comfort zone.

“Here they come.” Ava elbows me, and I almost spill the coffee I’m making. “Ohhh, book boy looks especially nice today.”

Groaning, I throw a lid onto the coffee cup, setting it on the pickup counter. “Order for Brooke,” I call out.

I’m about to turn away, but just then, he steps through the front door. Tall, well-built, and with eyes that pierce the soul. And he’s looking right at me.

Butterflies fill my stomach. Elliot Hayes is one of the three men who meets here every Friday morning for coffee. They’re always dressed in sharp suits, almost too perfect to be real.

Over the months, Ava and I have caught them staring at me on more than one occasion. But Elliot is the one I talk to the most.

He approaches the counter, his friends—or coworkers, or whatever—behind him. “Good morning, Wren. Ava. Have a good week?”

Heat rushes through my body just from him speaking to me. He’s looking at me expectantly, like he wants a real answer, not a fake, “Oh, it was fine.”

Still, that’s exactly what I tell him. It’s a lie—my week was filled with too many encounters with my ex-boyfriend from hell. But that seems a little too deep and messy to explain to Elliot.

So I take their orders, noticing the way he narrows his eyes at my lie.

Was I really that obvious?

But he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he leans against the counter while I start working on their drinks. “Reading anything interesting?”

I pause as my smile fades. Every week, he asks me that exact question, and I always have an enthusiastic answer for him. Reading is my favorite pastime, and I usually average one or two books a week.

“I . . . well, I didn’t really have time to read this week.”

He frowns, but not in a disappointed way. If I’m not mistaken, there’s concern etched into his features. “Too busy?”

“Something like that.” I avoid his gaze. Normally, reading is my escape. And I had plenty of time to read this week—I just didn’t have the mental energy.

Instead, I binged a new fantasy show every night until I fell asleep on the couch. Not the healthiest coping mechanism to deal with Adam’s constant texts and calls, but it’s not like it’ll last forever.

And if it does—or if he puts me in even the mildest of reading slumps, I’ll fucking kill him.

I just wish the asshole would take a fucking hint. You don’t cheat on me and get away with it. I swear, good men only exist in books. Specifically, books written by women.

One of the other guys—Oliver Moore, the only one who doesn’t take his coffee black—comes up beside Elliot. “Well, this guy had plenty of time to read. What’s that book you recommended to him? A Story of Two Cities? A Tale of Two Towns?”

As Oliver claps him on the back, Elliot grunts. “How do you not know one of Dickens’ most popular books? We literally read it in high school.” With a grateful smile, he says, “Worth the reread.”

Grinning, Oliver says, “I know it’s A Tale of Two Cities, you fuckwit.” Then he turns to me and winks. “I’m just pulling his leg. He’s too book smart for his own good.”

“Same with this one.” Ava steps up to the counter next to me, jabbing my arm before handing Oliver his coffee. “She can recite historical facts in her sleep, but try to make a joke around her? It’ll go right over her head.”

“Oh, shut up,” I mutter. That heat from earlier reappears, creeping through my veins. I turn away, finishing the two black coffees I’m working on before handing them to Elliot.

He just gives me a soft smile. “I hope you find some time to read this week, Wren. I know it makes you happy.”

I open my mouth, searching for any words, but they all stay trapped in my throat. It’s too overwhelming—the way he’s looking at me, the sincerity in his tone and his gaze. Like he actually cares.

Ava snorts, reaching up to close my jaw. “She means thank you. Enjoy your drinks.” Then she pulls me into the back, shaking me. “How did you ever manage to get a boyfriend?”

Blinking a few times, I glance back out front. Elliot is still standing at the counter, an amused smile playing across his face. God, it suits him well.

It takes me a few seconds before I’m able to tear my gaze away from his. “I mean, none of the guys I’ve dated have actually been that great.”

Shaking her head, Ava sighs. “Still. Do you even know how to flirt?”

“Uh . . . kinda?”

As she lets out a frustrated sound, she throws her hands up in the air. “Hopeless. You’re completely and utterly hopeless, Wren. Yet, somehow, it seems like all three of them have a crush on you.”

My eyes go wide. The amount of embarrassment I feel as Ava waggles her eyebrows at me is impossible to put into words. For a moment, I wish I could dissolve into the floor.

Is Elliot still watching? I hope not.

“I don’t know about all of them. Rhett seems a bit standoffish.”

Ava frowns. “Which one is he? Because the two we just talked to were perfectly friendly.”

“The third one. Kinda brooding? You were offended last week when he didn’t laugh at your joke.”

“Oh, yeah, he is a little standoffish.” She taps her chin for a moment before shrugging. “Whatever. I still think you should invite book boy to the ball tonight. I’ll happily give up my ticket if it means you getting laid.”

“Shut up,” I grit out, glancing at the three men. They’re at their usual table in front of the windows. Thankfully, that should mean they’re out of earshot.

Originally, I was supposed to be going to the Valentine’s Day masquerade ball with Adam. But when I broke up with him a few weeks ago, he gave me his ticket back.

But of course, he couldn’t just give it back. He had to throw in something about how he thought the thing was “stupid” and he “didn’t even want to go in the first place.”

Still, Ava happily volunteered to fill his spot as my date, and she’s been talking about it every day for weeks. I’m not taking this night away from her.

“No,” I say. “It’s Valentine’s Day. And I'm not letting you sit at home alone. You need to find a pretty girl to take home.”

She only glares at me for a second before relenting. “Fine.”

My eyes wander back to the three men lounging in leather chairs and sipping their coffees. Rhett’s cool gaze meets mine, and I freeze. He may be across the shop, but it feels like he’s stolen the air straight from my lungs.

A faint smile crosses his lips—so faint I’m sure I’m imagining it—before I turn back to Ava.

I take a deep breath. Maybe Ava is right. If I can’t even handle a man looking at me, I must really need some action in the sex department.

“Just promise me you’ll try to find someone tonight. I don’t want you to go home alone. That would be so sad.” She gives me one of her signature, I-know-what’s-best-for-you looks.

Inwardly, I wince. Because that was exactly my plan—have fun tonight, go home alone, and fall into bed. The idea of going home with a stranger isn’t appealing to me, especially since that’s how I ended up with Adam.

And I can’t have a repeat of our relationship. I just can’t.

Ava shoves me. “Promise me, Wren.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Fine. I promise I’ll try.”