“Well, look who it is,” Kyle said from beside Wren at the waiter station. She looked over to the doors of the Lobster Shack and groaned at the newcomers. Her night turned from crap to shitastic in the space of ten seconds. “What do you think he’s doing here?”

“It’s the Lobster Shack. I have to assume he’s here to enjoy Maine’s best crustaceans.” Wren shuddered as she gazed at the hostess leading the man in question along with his friends to a booth in her section. “Great, this is all I need.” She turned back to the soda machine and pushed the cup she was holding under the diet stream.

“The senator’s son has returned.” Kyle was still observing the newcomers. “It’s been a while. Have you talked to him since?” He let the sentence drop.

“Since I let him swipe my V card?” Wren always hid her vulnerability behind aggressive sarcasm. She thumped the plastic cup down on her tray and commenced filling the next one. “Nope.” She tried to block out images of Tristan Worthington’s naked body from four summers ago. He had pursued her all summer, and she’d thought they had something special until everything turned to shit.

“You didn’t drive up to see him? Isn’t your university near his?” Kyle asked idly. He knew damn well it was.

“Actually, the thought of showing up at Yale looking like a desperate townie never occurred to me.” Wren smashed the second cup down on her tray.

“Whoa, girl, calm down.” Kyle finally peered at her. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Wren picked up her tray. “You’re a nosy dick.” She breathed deeply and turned to face the main room of her father’s restaurant.

It was a busy Friday night at the Lobster Shack. Point Grace had only so many places to eat at night, and this was one of them. She squared her shoulders, walking over to the table across from where Tristan and his friends sat poring over menus and laughing. She set the drinks down in front of the couple who stared deeply into each other’s eyes.

“You ready to order?” she asked, not bothering to get her notepad out from the front of her apron.

The young man peered up at her and flushed. “No, sorry. Can we have a minute?”

Wren did her best to hide her impatience as she peeked over to the door. It was early, and if these diners didn’t get eating, there would be a lineup soon. “Yeah, take your time.” She sensed Tristan was staring at her back. Heat crept up her cheeks, and she cursed herself for letting him still have this effect on her. She summoned every ounce of hurt she had suffered during the last four years at his abandonment, and her armour slipped into place. She jerked her body around to face him and the rest of his group.

Tristan’s preoccupied hazel eyes stared up at her, and she felt him see right through her to where they haunted her dreams.

“Can I get your drink order?” she blurted out quickly and ducked her gaze immediately away from where Tristan’s expression had gone from concerned to hungry.

“Hello, there.” The guy beside Tristan smiled at her like a predator. “Do you take anything else?”

The girls sitting opposite them giggled, and Wren glanced at them. She recognized them both from gossip magazines at the grocery store. She was sure Tristan was linked to the blonde for a couple of months.

“Lay off, Rand.” Tristan scrutinized his friend.

“You didn’t tell me about the local wildlife.” Rand continued to stare at her cleavage.

“Listen, I can come back.” Wren was already slanting her gaze away from the table, happy to have the opportunity to escape. Maybe she could get Kyle to cover her booth. She understood it made her a coward, but at this point, she didn’t care. She sensed a warm hand on her bare arm and stared down at it stupidly.

“We can order now.” Tristan stared up at her with a tight smile.

“Yeah, can we get a bottle of champagne?” the blonde with the perfect face and fuck-me body asked.

Wren stared at her as if she had two heads before waving her hand to encompass the entire restaurant. “Does this look like the kind of restaurant that serves champagne?” Not hiding her sarcasm. “We have a house white and a house red.”

“What’s the white?” the brunette beside the blonde asked quietly.

“White,” Wren responded, even though she knew it was a Pinot Grigio. Maybe if she behaved rudely enough they’d leave and never come back.

“Bring the bottle of white,” Tristan intervened.

“Whatever,” Wren replied, happy to get away from the table.

She tucked the tray under her arm and moved to the waitress station. Wren stood in front of the stacked glasses, blinking several times until she was able to focus on the task at hand. She was not going to let the likes of Tristan Worthington get the better of her. Wren was a person. Just because he found her wanting didn’t mean she wasn’t a fuckload better off without him.

“Can we talk for a minute?” Tristan spoke beside Wren.

“No.” Wren inhaled deeply and ignored the warm feeling spreading over her skin. Her body’s awareness of Tristan prickling over her senses, making her breath come a little faster and her heart thud in her chest painfully. She stood in front of the sturdy wine glasses before placing them on her tray and ducked down to the wine fridge.

“Come on, Wren,” Tristan pleaded, and she stole a glance at him. Mistake. Huge idiotic blunder. His gaze held hers, and Wren felt like drowning in his mesmerising stare.

“I can’t right now.” Or ever, Wren added in her head. “It’s Friday night, and my section is full.”

“You going to run away from me all summer?” Tristan asked with a hint of aggression.