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“Cut that out!” Meg glared at the men. “Dirty bastards, I didn’t mean it that way.” Her face softened as she tried to peer around him. “Ignore them and get over here if you want to cook.” She nodded to a burly, bearded man. “Frank’s been missing choking down your eggs.”
Alina moved around Luka, her arm brushing his and grounding him in the moment with the slight stab of pain.
The man smiled at her. “Glad to see you doing good, girly.”
Alina nodded, reaching for the apron.
Luka felt more out of place than he ever had before. He considered slinking back outside, but Alina had asked him to come.
She paused in her reach for the spatula, her eyes darting to him and then to Meg. “Could I…?” Her words trailed off as she ducked her head.
Luka wanted to scoop her up and rush her back to the safe house despite the pain having his arms around her would bring. There she could talk and talk without hesitating.
He reminded himself he wasn’t returning there immediately and felt a chill inside.
Meg was studying him, the lines on her face carved in and her jaw hardened. She nodded anyway, forcing the spatula into Alina’s grip. “Sure. Make him breakfast if you want.”
Alina’s genuine smile bloomed as she shifted in front of the stove.
Meg moved around the counter, walking toward him. The look she gave him was sharper than a knife. “Not stalking her today?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.
Luka blinked as his eyes skittered away from her. He was losing his touch. First Alina and now this Meg had seen him.
Meg leaned closer, her tone dropping to a gruff whisper. “She said you weren’t the one to hurt her. If that’s true, you can take a seat.” She nodded to the bar.
Luka took a seat, leaving an empty stool on either side. His eyes latched onto Alina, who looked relaxed behind the counter.
“You’re breaking my heart, girly, you having a beau already,” Frank said, holding his hand over his heart.
Alina’s smile turned into the tense one. She didn’t deny the man’s accusation, but her hand gripped the spatula hard enough that it had to ache.
Luka considered stabbing the man.
“What can I make you?” she asked, her voice going quiet.
Frank’s hand dropped as he looked stricken. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease you, not when…” He swallowed, staring down at the counter.
“Shut up, Frank, and give her your order,” Meg snapped. Her gaze swept over the few people present. “Not a word from any of you unless it’s telling the girl how you like your eggs. Or I’ll charge you extra.”
Their gazes returned to their plates or coffee mugs.
Luka enjoyed watching Alina cook. He couldn’t say whether or not she was good at it. Her movements were small and practical, her concentration complete. Her true smile didn’t return, but her tension faded as a low murmur of voices filled the diner. The harsh slap of Meg’s voice now and then only seemed to relax Alina further.
Soon she slid a plate of food in front of Luka. “Thanks for coming,” Alina said.
Luka nodded, picking up his fork. He’d started enjoying food when Giovanni had gotten married. Nera was a wonderful cook, especially her morning pastries. He’d been surprised to learn that Giovanni had a sweet tooth.
Luka snatched things from the shadows when no one was looking.
He couldn’t remember anyone cooking something specifically for him before, though. Alina had heated ramen for him, but the dish in front of him felt different. His nerves skittered, and he barely tasted the first bite. The second one was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten.
He ate everything on the plate while she cooked for Frank. After it was gone, he wished he’d taken more time. His stomach felt swirly, and he slid off his stool as Frank started eating his own meal.
Luka took out a couple of bills, but Meg waved him away. “That was a gift to you.”
Alina’s gaze darted up. She licked her lips, slowly parting them. “I’ll see you later.”
Luka hesitated, then nodded, deciding it wasn’t a promise, just an acknowledgement that he wanted that too.
