Chapter 3 – Jennie #2
When I finish chewing, he holds out another fry. I open my mouth, and he pops it in.
“Let me go check on things in the kitchen first,” I say. “I’ll grab some lunch and come join you as soon as I can.”
After I check in with Cara and Michelle, just to make sure everything’s going smoothly, I pop into the kitchen and catch up with Robert and Diego.
Diego shows me a shopping list of the items we’re running low on. “I’ll stop next door later today and pick up what we need.”
Chad’s busy rinsing off dishes to put into the industrial dishwasher.
As usual, everything’s running like clockwork. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys. You don’t even need me.”
Robert gives me a friendly side hug. “Don’t be silly. Of course we need you. It’s called Jennie’s Diner, after all.”
“Besides,” Diego says, “who would bake the pies and donuts? Don’t look at me.” He shakes his head. “I’m a cook, not a baker.”
I scoop some mashed potatoes into an oversized bowl and top it with homemade chicken noodle soup made with thick egg noodles Diego makes from scratch. I grab a warm dinner roll off the baking sheet, mix up a vanilla shake, and carry my food out on a tray to join Chris and the others.
When he sees me coming, Chris jumps up to take my tray from me and set it on the table. “Your public disturbance case this morning is cooling her heels in the county jail cell right now, waiting for her attorney to fly down here from Helena to get the ball rolling.”
“That’s going to cost her. Couldn’t she just hire a local attorney? Imagine being that entitled.” I take a sip of my shake. “I feel bad for her husband.”
Chris nods toward his plate. “Help yourself to my fries. You know you want to.”
Grinning, I grab another one, dunk it in my shake, and pop it into my mouth. “Mmm. Thank you.”
Sitting here like this, sneaking his fries and dipping them in my shake, reminds me of the good old days when we’d come here every day after school.
We’d sit at the counter where Granny would have milkshakes and French fries waiting for us.
Vanilla for me. Chocolate for the boys. Apparently, not much has changed.
We’re just older now, and hopefully wiser.
No matter how rough school was, we looked forward to coming to the diner every day. This was our happy place. Our safe space. No one talked down to us in here—Granny would never stand for it. No one bullied us when we were in here.
Granny called us the three amigos, but really we were more like the three misfits. But at least we weren’t alone. We had each other.
“How are your classes coming, Robyn?” I ask.
She gives me a thumbs-up sign as she finishes chewing. “So far, so good. The term is about half over, and I have A’s in both of my classes.” She crosses her fingers.
Robyn is majoring in social work. She wants to help kids in foster care—kids like she once was.
She and I have a lot in common. We both lost our parents young.
I had Granny and Grandpa to come live with, though.
Robyn had no one. She drifted in the system for years collecting one bad experience after another until she aged out and ended up here in Bryce.
The bell over the door rings as two women—tourists, from the looks of them—walk into the diner.
The sign at the entrance says SEAT YOURSELVES.
As they approach our booth, they slow so they can let their gazes linger on Micah and Chris.
I certainly don’t blame them. Both guys are good looking.
But Micah’s obviously taken. As for Chris—well, actually, he’s not.
He’s single. But I resent the idea of them thinking that means he’s available. This isn’t Tinder.
As the women pass our table, one of them—a tall, curvy brunette dressed in a pair of skinny black jeans, a tight-fitting magenta workout top, and shiny new hiking boots—nods at Chris. “Good afternoon, officer.” She notices the badge on his shirt and corrects herself. “I mean sheriff.”
Chris returns her nod. “Ma’am.”
Faker. Those shiny new boots have never spent a minute hiking these trails. I may not be the most experienced outdoorswoman, but I know a poser when I spot one. The two women sit at the table beside ours.
“Excuse me, Sheriff,” the brunette says as she leans in our direction.
He gives her a polite smile. “Yes?”
“My friend and I were wondering if you could recommend a good hiking trail nearby. Nothing too strenuous, of course.” She chuckles. Faker. “We’re newbies.”
“Eagle Ridge is popular,” he says. “If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a sighting of our local nesting pair of bald eagles. And then there’s East Ridge Trail. That one’s popular with families. It’s an easier trail, more suited for beginners.”
“I’ll bet you do a lot of hiking in these mountains, don’t you?” the woman asks. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Aria, and this is my friend Bristol.”
Chris’s gaze darts to mine for a split second, and he has an almost panicked look on his face, as if to say, What do I do now? “Nice to meet you, ladies.”
“Please, call me Aria,” the brunette says.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies automatically.
“So, you’re the actual sheriff in this town?”
“In the county, yes,” he says.
I’ve had enough of watching this woman preen in front of Chris. I rise from the table and collect my half-eaten lunch. “If you guys will excuse me, I need to get back to work.”
Chris reaches out and snags my hand. “Don’t go.” He gazes up at me with pleading eyes.
I notice Aria giving me the once over. Out of spite, I’m tempted to stay longer just to derail her flirting. But I really do need to get to work. When I made a visit to the kitchen earlier, I noticed our display case was running low on pies. I need to plate up more slices.
“Sorry,” I murmur to Chris. “Gotta work. Later?”
He nods. “All right. See you later.”
As I head toward the counter, I glance back once. Aria is talking to Chris again, but his gaze is on me. When he catches me watching, he turns his attention to Micah and Robyn. Micah says something under his breath, and Robyn elbows him.
I admit I struggle with jealousy any time a woman pays attention to Chris. I honestly can’t blame them because he’s a great guy. He’s not just good looking, but he’s kind and brave. But the idea of him with someone else makes me crazy because he’s my friend.
No, he’s… mine. He has been since the third grade.
When I was young, and Chris had a crush on me, I always declined his overtures.
I was afraid. And stupid. Now, I’m not afraid.
And I’d like to think I’m a lot wiser. And things really have changed over the years here in Bryce.
I’m not bullied anymore. Neither are Micah and Chris.
The guys have made their mark on this town, and they’ve earned the respect and admiration of the townsfolk.
As for me—well, the townsfolk like the diner, and they love my pies, so I don’t get dirty looks any more.
And I no longer hear their whispered racial slurs.
But I made my bed years ago, and now I have to sleep in it. I turned Chris down so many times he eventually stopped asking.
I guess marrying David was the second worst mistake I ever made.
I’m pretty sure saying no to Chris all those years ago counts as the worst.