Chapter 3

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A/N: Dedicated to everyone who enjoys this story. Have a great time on wattpad and a happy New Year if we don't talk before that! ♥

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It's been three weeks since Rhys first visited the Milk & Cream and now I was putting in a little extra effort in getting dressed on Tuesdays and Thursdays – the two days he always came. Each time he would order the same – extra large coffee with extra cream – and each time I'd draw a wolf, doing my best not to repeat the design.

At first Tim and my other colleagues had been worried, they'd even warned the boss about our newest regular, which of course had made me afraid Rhys might get banned from the café; if that were to happen, would I ever see him again? Thankfully, I didn't get to find out. He never caused any trouble except for a bit of a perturbation with his presence and Mr. Philips deemed it unfair to kick him out based on his appearance alone. In the end, all Rhys did was sit at the bar, order a coffee and chat me up when I wasn't busy with other clients, which was often when he was here. I should probably be annoyed that he repelled my other regulars but I found it interesting to talk to him even though he could be oddly cryptic about some things.

I sighed as I gazed once again at the large mug-shaped clock above the café door. I'd been doing that a lot today; Rhys was late and I was beginning to wonder whether he'd be a no-show.

Taking a clean towel, I lazily wiped the smooth bar surface until I heard a bell ring and my head shot towards the sound. A smile bloomed on my face as I saw the familiar large figure clad in the ever-present leather jacket enter. My spirits dwindled and the grin melted away as soon as he came close enough for me to notice the dark circles under his eyes.

"Rough night?" I asked and began preparing him the usual.

"Followed by a long, long day and it is only the afternoon." The last few words were uttered through a yawn, his voice even raspier than usual. "Sorry, I'm late."

"You are? I didn't notice." I straightened my shirt while the brown liquid flowed from the machine into a mug with the café logo. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, placing his drink before him and using the flat end of a small spoon for the finishing touches of a wolf's head.

"Family stuff," he replied curtly, propping his elbow on the bar and leaning his cheek against his palm.

I nodded, knowing he wouldn't give me details. He would freely provide me with information about whatever I asked him except when it came to his family – a term I'd realized he used broadly to include his gang, not just his blood relations. Those were the occasions on which Rhys got evasive: when he talked about his family. How very Godfather-like!

Then again it was probably better that he didn't share such things; I didn't want to end up in the middle of some shady deal. Even so, I couldn't help but wonder from time to time what he and his family might be up to and of course I came up with all sorts of ideas, sometimes going as far as to imagine them as secret agents or spies. I giggled as a certain picture formed in my mind: Rhys at a fancy cocktail party, all dressed up and equipped with gadgets à la James Bond.

"What's so funny?" He asked, the coffee mug almost at his lips, but I shook my head.

"You have your secrets; I have mine," I winked.

"I don't want us to have secrets," he said gently. "And one day I'll answer the questions you have for me, but you are not ready yet."

"Ready for what?" I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows. My heart jumped as a horrifying conjecture came to mind. "Are you trying to recruit me for your gang?" I whispered at him.

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