something to drink?”
The young woman just continued to blink at the placemats. Finally, the blonde boy nudged her.
“Mimi,” he said quietly.
The woman blinked and looked around, finally seeing the waitress standing next to the table.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?”
The sound of her voice was warm and soft like a summer’s breeze back home. I wanted to close my eyes and let the sound wash over me. Then her lips curved ever so slightly into a smile, distracting me from my fascination and giving me something new to obsess over while the waitress repeated her question, wrote down their order, and left.
A slightly worried frown marred the woman’s features as she rested her chin in her hands and gazed around the room while the kids colored on their placemats.
Before she caught me again, I looked away, pretending that she didn’t have my complete attention. Should I introduce myself now? Should I wait until they were done eating?
I’d watched human men interact with human women over the years. There were many ways to a successful approach, but it depended on the man and the woman. I wasn’t shy. I was direct but not forceful. That put me in a tough position. From what I’d observed, direct men were often shot down by quiet women. And, she was definitely a quiet woman.
I glanced at her again and saw her closed eyes and relaxed face. Her exhaustion decided it. I’d wait until they were ready to leave then make sure she didn’t plan on driving.
The waitress came with my bill, and I thanked her and asked for more coffee. While I waited, the young woman fought valiantly to open her eyes again. The need to care for her, to help her rest, clawed at me.
When her eyes opened, she was looking straight at me. I calmly took another drink and turned to watch out the window, but seconds later, my eyes were back on her.
The waitress brought their drinks, and the woman took a huge swallow. I wanted to tell her it wouldn’t do any good. Her body needed rest, not fluids.
She caught me watching again and arched a brow at me. It was the cutest damn thing I’d seen in so long, I couldn’t help but grin. She frowned at me and turned away, focusing her attention on the boys.
The waitress brought their food, and I continued to sip my coffee and wait for them. For her.
When the kids finished, she paid and led them into the bathroom. I took that as my cue to get out of there.
While standing by my bike, I started planning what I’d say. How could I be direct without scaring her off? Hi, my name’s Emmitt. I noticed you look a little tired. Should you be driving? That sounded like I was judging her. Hi, my name’s Emmitt. Nice day isn’t it? I was really glad Jim wasn’t within earshot. Without a doubt, I was about to make an ass of myself.
A big SUV pulled in and parked on the other side of the car. I wanted to growl. She’d be less likely to accept help with others around. Maybe they’d head inside before she came out.
Two men exited the vehicle. They looked around the parking lot, glanced at me dismissively, then moved to the trunk. They didn’t open it. They didn’t talk; I would have heard even a whisper. They just stood there. Humans. Even after all the years I spent in the service, I still hadn’t fully figured them out.
The door to the restaurant opened, and my gut clenched as I listened to the woman and two kids make their way toward me. I opened the bag on my bike and pretended to look in it. When she came close, I’d—
“She’s coming,” I heard one of the men behind the car whisper.
I frowned and stayed focused on my bag as she passed me. What did those men want with my Mate?
The woman had almost made it to her car when her steps faltered. I looked up and inhaled deeply. Her fear salted the breeze as she stood frozen, facing the SUV. She obviously knew the vehicle.
One of the kids made a small sound of distress. Cubs shouldn’t know that kind of fear.
She broke free of her panic enough to look around. The men were still behind the SUV, though, out of sight.
“You circle around,” one of them said softly, a second before a man stepped around the front.
His grin held a streak of meanness