Page 5 of Every Little Thing

Chapter Three

Wyatt

“How many?” the cute blonde hostess asks as Smith and I walk into the homey little Italian restaurant that our client’s father owns and I hold up two fingers as I scan what I can see of the dining room. She grabs the menus and instructs us to follow her as she turns and walks further into the restaurant. After leading us to a table situated along the front windows that gives us a perfect view into the bustling kitchen, I flash her a smile of thanks as I slide into my seat and Smith sits across from me. She briefly runs over the day’s specials as she lays our menus in front of us.

“Can I get you two started with a drink? A beer, maybe?”

I shake my head. “Just water.”

“I’ll take a beer,” Smith answers and she nods.

“Okay. I’ll be right back with those and your waitress will be with you in just a moment.”

As she turns and leaves, I scan the dining room, searching for the subject of our investigation but he is nowhere to be found. Sighing, I turn toward my menu and flip it open. When our client, Marina, came to us a couple weeks ago to ask for our help, she told us that her father has owned this restaurant for damn near forty years but as he got older, it was harder for him to keep up so he took on a partner to ease the workload. The only problem is, Marina has been hearing from the other staff that the partner, Ben, is a sleaze ball and running this place into the ground but she needs rock solid proof to try and force Ben out which is where we come in.

“I’ll tell ya, brother,” Smith says, engrossed in his menu. “I’ve definitely been on worse stakeouts.”

I snort out a half laugh. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“What’s your deal lately?” he asks, glancing up from his menu with a knitted brow. I shake my head.

“I don’t have a deal.”

“Bullshit. I mean, you’re usually pretty serious but you’re not this damn grouchy. What the hell is going on?”

I run my hand through my hair. “Just worried about the club and the girls.”

“Ah,” he whispers, nodding his head before he turns to look out at the dining room. “I don’t know, man. I don’t want to believe that you’re right but I’m not ready to proclaim that you’re wrong either. Plus, that shit you said at church about it being someone we love next, well… I can’t get that shit out of my head and with Quinn pregnant…”

“I never got a chance to say congratulations, by the way.”

He nods, studying me. “Yeah, you bailed pretty quick after my announcement…”

“Yeah, I did.”

“That’s all I’m going to get?” he asks, irritation creeping into his tone. “I mean, you know that I know that it’s bullshit, right?”

I arch a brow. “That your new favorite word?”

“Bullshit?” he questions and I nod. “Only when I smell the overwhelming scent of bullshit like right now.”

“You can’t smell anything but lasagna and garlic bread.”

His stomach growls and his gaze flicks to the kitchen before he turns back to me. “I really wish I could smell that cause it sounds amazing but I’m like drowning in bullshit right now so…”

“Jesus Christ, you’re not going to stop, are you?”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Fine,” I growl before my body deflates and I sigh. “I’ve just been thinking a lot lately with all of you settling down and starting families.”

“You want the same?”

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“So, do it. What the hell is holding you back?”

An image of Piper pops into my mind, her smokey green eyes boring into mine and asking me the same damn question.