Chapter Nine #2
Aftyn grinned. “You were right. I’ll talk to Connie in the morning and let you know where to send it. I hate taking it though.”
“You can pay me back whenever you’re ready. No rush.”
“I will. I promise.”
“I know you will. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too.” Aftyn set the phone on the armrest and clicked on the TV, letting the flickering light fill the dim room. The day’s tension drained away, and somewhere between one breath and the next she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, pale sunlight filtered through the diner’s front windows as Aftyn pushed through the glass door.
She was disappointed about postponing dinner with Cole, but they’d both been exhausted and agreed to wait until the following weekend.
She tied on her apron and moved behind the counter where Connie was already darting between booths and stools so fast Aftyn half expected to see sparks off the tile floor.
She started down the counter with the coffee carafe, filling mugs for the line of broad-shouldered farmers and sun-creased ranchers settling onto stools.
The smell of fresh brew and sizzling bacon filled the air, but a quiet ache pulsed in her chest at the thought of Cole.
She wiped down tables, refilled syrup bottles, kept herself moving.
Then he walked in. Tall and broad, shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe, boots thudding softly on the linoleum. She lifted the carafe and he nodded, eyes warm. She set a clean mug before him and poured until steam curled up between them.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice low enough to send a chill down her spine.
“Good morning. How was your Sunday?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “Damn busy. Couple sections of fence down, so we all worked on it. Too tired to eat at home this morning.” He paused. “And I wanted to see you.”
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “I’m glad you did. Do you know how my aunt could wire me some spending money?”
Cole’s lips curved. “So, you’re finally letting her help.”
“Don’t gloat. She’s going to send some cash first, then a certified check when I find a vehicle.”
“Get a prepaid Visa. She can transfer funds right to it. The pharmacy up the street carries them.”
Aftyn blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shrugged. “No idea.”
She laughed. “I’ll walk over after my shift. Thank you.” She glanced around at the packed diner. “Why is it so busy today?”
“Harvest season’s coming in next week. Farmers and ranchers want a good breakfast before heading out. Barley, oats, corn, root vegetables, all coming in through September, some into October depending on the weather.”
“I can’t believe it’s almost September. I’ve been here nearly two months.” She shook her head. “What’ll you have?”
“The usual. And more coffee.” He lifted his mug and turned to the elderly man beside him who’d started talking.
Aftyn scribbled the order, clipped it to the wheel, and tapped the bell. Around her the diner hummed with the morning rush, and she found herself smiling. Just the way she liked it.
****
Cole tracked Aftyn’s movements as she floated between customers, the scent of coffee and bacon hanging in the air. Harvest season had him buried from dawn to dusk, but today he’d made an exception. Her laughter drifted across the room as she chatted with an elderly man at the counter.
“Beautiful woman,” the white-haired gentleman beside him remarked, hands wrapped around his mug.
“Yes, she is.”
The old man’s eyes crinkled. “Makes me wish I was fifty years younger. I’d give you a run for your money.” He jabbed a bony elbow into Cole’s ribs with surprising force, making Cole laugh.
“Sir, I’m sure you could.”
The bell above the door jingled. Cole glanced over and went still.
A tall man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped in, dark blond hair slicked back without a strand out of place, Italian leather shoes gleaming under the diner lights.
His cologne announced him before he’d fully cleared the door.
Perfect white teeth flashed as he smiled across the room, and Cole’s gaze cut to Aftyn to find her smiling back.
His stomach clenched. Then it clicked. The PI.
Had to be. Cole’s fingers curled against his thigh.
He didn’t like him. The man stuck out like a peacock in a chicken coop.
Aftyn set his breakfast on the counter a few minutes later, a fluffy Western omelet with red pepper, ham, and melted cheddar, and refilled his mug.
“Thank you.”
She twisted her dishrag. “Would you like to come to dinner Friday evening? I’ll cook.”
“Can you cook?” He smirked.
She straightened, feigning offense. “Of course. What do you like?”
“Whatever you make is fine.”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes? My aunt’s recipe. Six work?”
“Perfect. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” He lifted his mug. “So, who’s Slick?”
Her brow furrowed. “Slick?”
“Fancy suit, shiny shoes, looks like he stepped off a movie set.”
“That’s Sterling Peterson. The PI Aunt Ping hired.”
Cole nearly choked on his coffee. “Sterling?”
“Be nice.” She fixed him with a look.
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Have a good day, Cole.”
“I’m certainly going to try.” He watched her walk off to take more orders, her hips swaying slightly in worn denim. She might not have planned on staying, but she sure seemed to be settling in just fine.
****
Aftyn shook her head and made her way to where Peterson sat, filling his mug from the carafe.
“Good morning, Mr. Peterson. Would you like to order breakfast?”
He glanced around at the bustling room, fingers drumming against the tabletop. “This place doesn’t stop, does it?”
“It slows down after lunch.”
“I’d like to see your version of slow.” He grinned.
Slick. Leave it to Cole. Peterson was a city slicker through and through, crisp suit, designer watch catching the morning light.
He clearly knew he was good-looking, but this was not his world.
Still, Clifton didn’t judge. They accepted everyone, even outsiders with soft hands and cologne that entered a room ahead of them.
“I found some things I’d like to share with you. Do you get a break soon?”
Aftyn glanced at the door as the bell jingled again, another wave of ranchers, young mothers with toddlers, elderly couples who’d been coming here for decades. She shook her head.
“Not for a while. Have breakfast and we’ll see. If not, come back after my shift.”
“Alright. Egg white omelet, please.”
“Bacon? Sausage?”
“No thanks.” He patted his flat stomach with a grimace.
She pinned the order to the wheel and tapped the bell. Owen had it up in minutes, the eggs glistening under the kitchen lights. She carried the plate over, its warmth seeping through her fingertips.
“Enjoy.”
He cut into it, took a bite, and groaned. “Fantastic.”
“Great.” She topped off his mug and got back to work.
Later, clearing sticky plates from emptied tables, she slipped into the kitchen and noticed Cole was gone. No goodbye. Her chest tightened, but she’d been pulled in three directions and missed him leaving. She hoped to hear from him later.
Peterson was already at the register, wallet out. She made change, coins clinking into his palm.
“I’ll be back later,” he said.
“Alright.” She nodded as he walked out, the bell jingling overhead, then cleared his table. No tip. She clenched her jaw, shook her head. All that flash and he couldn’t spare a dollar.
“Slick,” she muttered. “Cheap, too.”
At one-thirty Aftyn untied her apron, fingers stiff from scrubbing dried ketchup off laminate tables. The bell jingled and Peterson walked in, settling onto a counter stool. Connie poured him a coffee without being asked. He wrapped both hands around the mug and took a careful sip.
Aftyn pushed through the kitchen door and rounded the counter. His cologne, something woodsy and expensive, cut through the lingering smell of frying oil.
“Could we get a booth?” His voice was low. “A little more private.”
She led him to the back corner where the fluorescent light flickered. He slid across the vinyl seat before she could, leaving her standing. She pressed her lips together and settled in across from him. Country manners had their merits.
“Your sister’s working at the liquor shop on Clifton Street,” he said, glancing around. “She started working there this morning. Carried a brown bag lunch. I’m going to follow her this evening. The hours are ten to six.”
“She never left during the day?”
“Not once since I’ve been watching. Your husband could be waiting at the motel until her day ends. I can look into it, though your aunt hired me to find your sister, not him.”
“Ex-husband,” Aftyn said coolly. “I couldn’t care less where he is.”
He held up a hand. “Fair enough. But if I spot him I’ll let you know.”
“She has no idea you’re watching her?”
Peterson smirked. “I’m too good at my job. She’s clueless.”
Aftyn laughed despite herself. “And you’re sure she’s at the motel?”
“Two doors down from my room.”
“How’d you find that out? You said you couldn’t ask the desk.”
“I didn’t. Called and asked to be connected. Took a chance.” He shrugged as if it were nothing.
“According to another guest she’s been there nearly two months.”
“So, I arrived just after she did.” Aftyn shook her head. “I wish she’d walk in here right now.”
“Just be careful. If she spots you too soon she might bolt.”
“I’ll follow her again if she does. But I’ll stay out of sight.”
“Good. I’m heading back now and keep an eye on her.” He paused. “She’s not driving, by the way. Short walk. Though there’s a blue Durango registered to the room.”
Aftyn went still. “That’s his vehicle. He is with her.”
Peterson touched her hand briefly. She pulled it back. “Stay sharp,” he said, and left.
She watched him go, then noticed Connie eyeing the empty mug he’d left behind. No tip, no payment. She fished a dollar from her pocket, settled the tab, said her goodbyes, and pushed through the back door.
Upstairs, she clicked the lock, kicked off her shoes, and ran a bath, the water faintly scented with lavender.
She peeled off her clothes and eased in, steam curling around her shoulders.
The world went quiet. She closed her eyes and let the warmth hold her, thinking about Cole and hoping she’d hear from him soon.