The fluorescent lights buzzed. Grease sizzled from the kitchen window. And Hughie Biggs stood just inside the diner’s door, staring daggers across the room at the back booth.

Her. His sunshine. Laughing at something Damien Cleary said.

Damien bloody Cleary. Rugby teammate. Grade-A tosser. Wannabe charmer.

“She looks miserable,” Patrick muttered beside him.

“She’s laughing,” Hughie said, jaw clenched.

Patrick shrugged. “She laughs at your fart jokes too. Doesn’t mean she’s having a good time.”

Behind them, Gibsie and Johnny cracked their knuckles like they were warming up for a brawl.

Hughie didn’t think. He just moved.

They weaved through the booths like a four-man hurricane. Without warning, Hughie and Patrick slid into the booth—right beside her. She jumped slightly, wide-eyed.

“Hughie—what—?”

“Hey, sunshine,” Hughie said calmly, stealing one of her chips like he hadn’t just hijacked her date. “Mind if we join?”

Damien blinked, halfway through cutting into his burger. “Are you lot serious?”

“Very,” Johnny said, plopping down beside him. Gibsie followed, crowding Damien in on the other side.

“This is a date,” Damien snapped, clearly rattled.

“No,” Hughie said, draping an arm behind his best friend like he belonged there. “This is Biddies. And you’re crowding her personal space.”

Damien looked at her, then back at Hughie. “She chose me.”

For a second, everything stilled.

Then Hughie leaned forward, his voice low, deliberate, eyes burning into Damien’s like a match held to petrol. “Did she?”