Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
MARLEY
“Hey, Marley, were you able to serve those papers yesterday?”
I twist around to see the sheriff’s deputy, Riggs, coming in my direction.
Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste a smile in place. “Yep. Easy peasy. I was able to get everyone served without a problem.”
“That’s good,” Riggs remarks, smirking. “Makes things easier on us when we ain’t gotta be out there serving papers all the damn time. Ya know what I mean?”
“I get what you mean.” It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes at the jerk. He’s the kind of guy that always seems to get on my nerves. He’s got that ‘Pretty Lady’ mentality. The one where he thinks women shouldn’t have jobs and that they should be seen, not heard. He also likes to believe that he’s got more important things he could be doing rather than serving papers to people.
“You got plans for this weekend?”
Of course, he’d ask that. He’s been asking that for the last month and a half. Thankfully, I hadn’t had to lie to him. I did have plans. I’ve been fixing up the little house I was renting. Not that it needed a lot of work, I just wanted to give it a feel for home. It’s a beautiful little place that the landlords let me paint and fix up how I wanted.
Unfortunately, I can’t lie worth a dingdong, and I didn’t have any other plans this weekend except for going to my grandma’s house Sunday for dinner. She’s deemed Sundays for family dinner since I moved to town. Sometimes we go out together somewhere. Other times we eat at the house.
It means I have nothing to tell him I’m doing.
“Nothing yet. I’m still up in the air, debating on what I’m doing,” I tell him, clear my throat, and give him what I hope is a lie he won’t see through. “I think my folks are planning to come, but they haven’t confirmed it just yet.”
That is definitely not happening. My mom doesn’t come to town more than a couple times a year, and it’s not near any of those times.
“Well, you wanna grab some dinner Friday night with me over at the diner?”
And there’s the question I didn’t wanna have to answer.
“Let me get back to you,” I lie. God, I hate lying. “I need to find out from the folks first.”
Please don’t see through the lie.
I’m a horrible liar. My dad claims I don’t have a poker face worth a monkey’s butt.
Riggs nods and gives a grin. “You let me know as soon as you find out.”
“I’ll do that.” It’s all I can do to give him a smile, nod, and wave as I start down the stairs of the courthouse. All I want to do is get away from the man. What’s sad about it all is he’s actually not hard on the eyes. It’s just his demeanor that makes it all a big fat ‘NO’ when it comes to going out with him.
Getting to my car, I unlock it and climb in without being stopped again. I was done for the day, and I didn’t have anything else to do. Since moving to town, I haven’t really made any friends yet. Which is fine, but it sucks when I go out to dinner to get something to eat. There’s not anyone to talk to.
A lot of the time, I end up talking to my best friend back home on the phone a couple times a week for hours. Usually, she’s filling me in on the latest news, and I’ve got to give it to her, she’s always got the latest gossip for me. You’d think there wasn’t much for her to tell me about what’s going on, but she’s always finding something to be able to fill me in on.
I do my best to figure something out for dinner on the drive through town. I’m not the best cook, but I do alright. It’s just me most nights, so I prefer to eat out a lot of the time. Passing through town, nothing appeals to me. It’s all pretty much the same thing.
The town consists of the garage, several fast-food chain restaurants, the diner, two Mexican restaurants, a couple bars–one of them a biker bar, then there’s a coffee shop, and then there are two other restaurants that I ex’d off immediately. The food was not my cup of tea.
I finally settle on just swinging into the diner. They always have something good. I love their loaded cheese fries. I could fill up on those alone. Turning into the parking lot, I find a parking spot and park my car. Snagging my purse, I throw my keys inside the open compartment and get out. I make my way to the front doors and stop at the sound of the heavy, thundering rumbles of motorcycles coming down the road.
My heart skips a beat, and my stomach clenches. I force myself to step into the diner. I don’t need to stand there like a fool looking to see who the bikers are. I definitely don’t need to look to see if it’s a particular biker.
Last night, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Every time I stopped doing one thing or another, my mind wandered to him . . . to Graham Holland. I won’t even deny that I had some pretty naughty thoughts where he’s concerned while lying in bed.
“Don’t go down that road, Marley.” My mind all but screams at me.
I find a table easily and wave to Deloris, one of the waitresses. She’s an older woman who has had me cracking up a time or two while she waited for me to order.
“I’ll be right with ya, suga,” Deloris tells me and goes back to taking the order of one of the other customers.
“Take your time,” I tell her and slide into the booth. I knew what I was at least going to start off with. A sweet tea and those fries.
Maybe tonight I’ll try one of the burgers. I’d eaten the chicken tenders and the pasta plenty of times. Chicken is one of my go-to foods. You can never go wrong with chicken. Well, you can, but it’s harder to screw up. The cook here, he knew how to fry up anything, it seemed. One of my favorites was the tender sandwich on the menu. Best part of it is the ranch and BBQ sauce it’s served with. Both were homemade and can’t be found anywhere else.
A few minutes pass before Deloris comes to stand next to the table and sets down a sweet tea. “Already put an order in for the fries, suga,” she says, grinning.
“Am I that predictable?” I snort out a laugh.
“Only when it comes to those fries and your drink.” Deloris cackles. “What can I get you for dinner?”
“I’m thinking of going with a burger tonight. Any suggestions?”
I always take her suggestions. Deloris hasn’t steered me wrong when it comes to food here.
“My opinion?”
I nod.
“I’d go with the hamburger steak burger. Comes smothered in caramelized onions, Swiss cheese, gravy, and comes on a brioche bun.”
Now, that did sound good.
“That’s not on the menu,” I tell her, nodding to the menu.
Deloris grins and plants a hand on one hip. “Darlin’, that insufferable old coot back there, he don’t always like goin’ off a menu. He makes his own specials for those that are locals. Menu’s mostly for the tourists comin’ through town.”
“Ahhh, that’s understandable.” I like the reasoning. “Then I’ll get me the hamburger steak burger.”
Deloris laughs, nods, and writes it down. “I knew you’d like that. Trust me, you like his tenders, you’ll definitely enjoy this.”
“Can’t wait to try it,” I tell her as she starts away.
“I’ll have them fries out in a jiffy,” she says as the bell over the door rings.
We both look in the direction, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. It’s him. Graham Holland and he’s got his eyes directed right on me.