My mom left me at a hospital when I was six, and never came back. I barely remembered her, and I never knew my dad. No siblings, no history, and no roots since none of the families I cycled through stuck. I wasn’t abused or anything, but by the time I hit high school, I was pretty closed off.

Derrick listened, asking the occasional question, and I found my lonely past spilling out of me. To my surprise, he didn’t make useless platitudes or exhibit any pity. I’d long ago gotten used to depending only on myself, and I didn’t need anyone else trying to fix me.

His quiet acceptance cracked open something inside me, but panic crawled up my throat at the intimate moment. I wasn’t ready for this guy who was already stupidly attractive to understand. Instead of confiding my fears, I changed the subject. If I let myself get in too deep, he’d crush me.

We’d just about finished eating when a rowdy group of guys surrounded our table. They all wore a variation of Derrick’s usual outfit. Sweats or jeans under t-shirts that showed off the bodies of precision athletes—not an ounce of fat on any of them. It was like sitting centerstage at a strip show, only everyone wore clothes and no one was throwing money.

They were all tall, but one with golden-tan skin and intense dark eyes stood a couple of inches over the others. Next to him, stood a solid wall of muscle with his arms crossed over his chest. Tawny hair, green eyes, and a chin covered in red-brown scruff, probably a defensive guy considering the breadth of his shoulders.

Standing back a bit and mostly listening was a dangerously pretty man with black hair falling into his eyes. His face had the harsh angles and chiseled jawline of a fallen angel. He reminded me of this statue of Lucifer I saw once. The cathedral that commissioned it said it was too beautiful and had to be removed before it tempted the congregation to evil. I shuddered and shifted my gaze to the last of their group.

The guy from that first morning, the interloper. He looked like a Viking who’d gotten lost in north Texas. Piercing blue eyes, blonde hair pulled back into a man bun that should have looked ridiculous but didn’t. Just enough stubble to look like he didn’t give a shit, but neatly trimmed.

Like some kind of harem dream, four massive, loud, eerily attractive football players jockeyed for the spot next to Derrick. While the others all tried to talk to him at once, his seat-stealing friend watched me with a smug smile.

“Nice to see you again, sweetheart.”

I rolled my eyes at the smarmy endearment. “Still not interested, interloper.”

He raised a brow. “That’s not how it looks to me.”