Chapter 2
WINNIE
Four hours later, I’m standing outside Huck’s Lake View Diner making a mental U-turn before I very well make a physical one.
The restaurant sits in a prime location with a beautiful view of the frozen lake.
It’s an eclectic combination of knotty pine, chrome, vintage décor, and neon.
A massive carved wooden statue of a chickaree squirrel, also known as a Douglas squirrel—Huckleberry Hill’s beloved mascot—guards the entrance.
The locals call him Gus, and his tail is worn smooth from decades of visitors rubbing it for good luck.
I feel like it’s staring at me. Taunting me. Daring me to go inside.
Alright, squirrel. It’s on!
I give it a quick pat as I pass. Can’t hurt.
Inside, the tables are packed. Seems like half the town showed up for Taco Tuesday.
I spot my grandmother Joyce at a corner table with Judy Waples—they’re Huckleberry Hill’s most legendary frenemies.
They dub themselves the “Golden Grandmas” while bickering about their longtime baking rivalry and gossiping about everyone within a five-mile radius.
Grandma waves enthusiastically when she sees me.
I wave back, worried she’s going to make a public declaration that I’m single.
She’s been not-so-subtly hinting that I should find a nice man and settle down in town permanently.
That’s not part of my life plan. It’s help her with the house, send money home to Reno, prove myself professionally, and eventually move back to the city where I belong.
That’s the plan, and I’m sticking to it!
“Winnie! Over here!” Mindy pops out of her seat at a table near the center of the room. Next to her sits Austin James, smiling as usual. He’s on his phone as if sending a text.
Across from him, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, along with an expression like he just got sentenced to swim across the lake in the bitter cold, sits Patton Cross.
No!
Oh no, no, no. This can’t be the friend Austin brought. He must make the connection because he stares at me with burning, murderous fire in his eyes.
Naturally, I offer a friendly wave.
He lifts his drink in a mock salute and then turns away like the grouch he is.
My stomach swoops as if I just crested the top of a roller coaster.
I’m stuck like a buffering computer or television screen in the narrow passageway between tables. Peggy, a server, approaches with a tray topped with drinks. I consider fleeing, but Grandma is watching along with Mayor Barbara Johnson, aka “Mayor Barbie,” who just walked in and spotted me.
Retreat is not an option.
I blame the squirrel!
And Mindy!
I should’ve asked her who Austin was bringing. Of course, it would be someone from the fire department. Should I be surprised or just accept it?
Plastering on a smile, I slide into the empty seat across from Patton. His jaw tightens. I’m getting good at reading his arrogant micro-expressions, mostly because they’re the only expressions he has other than stone-cold serious.
“Hi,” I say brightly. “Fancy meeting you here. Small world.”
“Austin dragged me here,” he replies, as if that explains why he looks like he’d rather be fighting a wildfire.
“Mindy invited me. What a coincidence.”
Meanwhile, she’s beaming at Austin. They’re both oblivious to the timer ticking down on the TNT wired up between Patton and me.
Peggy appears with menus and a basket of chips. I order a water and the a la carte bean tacos because my bank account is crying.
Patton orders the loaded nachos. I didn’t peg him as someone who’d share, but maybe there’s hope for him yet. Sidebar: I would’ve ordered them for the table if I could afford it. The plate is huge—big enough to feed a horse. Not that I’d do that. I think horses prefer hay and apples, but still.
Mindy and Austin talk about a television show that his best friend recommended—why couldn’t that be the person he brought on this “double date?!”
I reach for conversation the way a drowning person grapples for a life preserver and ask Patton, “So, how’s the bakery renovation going?”
“Fine.”
“Have you come up with a name? Made a sign?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Great. That’s great.” Lips pressed together, my legs jitter under the table.
Silence flops between us like a wet blanket.
Having come from a family of talkers—except, apparently, about the true state of the restaurant—I try again. “Have you ever done trivia night before? I’m pretty good at pop culture and history. Are there teams or—?”
He interrupts, “I play alone.”
I mutter, “It’s trivia, not solitaire.”
He grunts.
I use the smile I reserve for people who’re dangling at the end of my patience. “Suit yourself.”
The trivia host—Ray “Lucky” Donahoo, a former card dealer who fled Reno after a “misunderstanding” with some casino enforcers, but still wears his dealer’s visor and sleeve garters—takes the microphone and announces the rules.
Teams of two. Six rounds with an elimination between each.
Five questions in each round, with sequentially increasing difficulty.
The winner gets a miniature version of the town’s beloved squirrel statue and dinner on the house.
All participants confer to confirm that the big statue’s tail was rubbed for luck before the game starts.
Mindy and Austin exchange a nod.
Patton rolls his eyes.
I could really use a free meal. That’s it. I’m in it to win it!
“Could you make an exception and be a team player just this once?” I ask Patton.
He grunts like a cave bear. “Only when it matters.” Something flickers in his hazel eyes—amusement or annoyance, it’s hard to say—before it disappears behind his usual mask of indifference.
Maybe that’s where he got the nickname “Maverick,” not that I pay attention to these things.
Our food arrives, and much like the Crush Cakes from earlier today, he refuses to share his nachos.
I ask for a bite to test a hypothesis: the man is a selfish, self-serving jerk.
Results: affirmative.
He must test a theory as well because he asks Austin if they can team up. However, Mindy and Austin insist we play on a team together, whether he likes it or not.
Spoiler alert: he doesn’t like it.
Evidence: his scowl.
Make that both of us, buster!
Patton really grinds my gears. Would it kill him just to play Captain Courtesy for sixty minutes of his life and try to be friendly?
Actually, probably.
The first trivia round is local geography. Austin and Mindy get one, and I’m about to chime in when Patton cuts me off with the correct answer, even though we’re on the same team.
“I was going to say that,” I mutter.
“Too slow.”
Round two is sports. Patton answers every question before anyone else can blink. I’m starting to suspect he’s a trivia savant, or possibly a robot disguised as a self-important firefighter.
Unfortunately, Mindy and Austin are eliminated.
Round three is science, and the question is about which two elements on the periodic table are liquid at room temperature.
Someone shouts the first one—mercury.
As for the second, I have no idea.
Patton’s jaw ticks. I take this to mean he doesn’t know either.
I’m desperate because, according to the points on the board, we’re at risk of going out this round.
Mindy mouths something at me from across the table. I can’t read lips. She tries again, exaggerating each word. “Brr-oh …”
Is she cold? She doesn’t seem to be shivering.
Brr-oh is not an answer. It doesn’t sound familiar, but high school chem class seems like a lifetime ago.
Austin taps out Morse code on the table. At least, I think it’s Morse code. Could be a nervous tic.
Patton’s phone keeps buzzing. He’s ignoring it, but the vibrations are so loud that people at the next table keep looking our way.
My phone sits innocently in front of me. What’s the other element? I’m not going to look it up out of curiosity. But if I did, I definitely wouldn’t share the answer.
But what if I just … verified? What if I just made sure I wasn’t about to say something completely wrong?
I pick it up and type quickly. The screen is greasy from when I snuck one of Patton’s nachos after he denied me. The creep wouldn’t share!
His phone buzzes so violently that it falls off the table and clatters to the floor.
Everyone stares.
He bends down to grab it, bumping me with his big, dumb elbow. My finger slips and my phone’s smooth robot voice blares from my speaker at full volume, “The two elements from the periodic table that are liquid at room temperature, measured at twenty-five degrees Celsius, are mercury and bromine.”
Every customer at Huck’s goes silent.
Silver Sam Howell points at our table. “That’s cheating! Disqualified!”
My face burns hotter than the summer sun on pavement. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”
“She was looking it up,” someone from another table calls out.
I want to melt into the grimy floorboards. Grandma looks horrified. Mayor Barbie raises her eyebrows. Judy Waples shakes her head in disapproval. The room is dead quiet.
“I was just checking—” I start, but Patton’s phone vibrates.
And vibrates again.
And again.
Lucky narrows his eyes. “What’s that? Is there a fire?”
Patton waves his hand. “No, nothing to worry about.”
Everyone in the room starts talking.
Patton peers at his phone, displaying text after text from Scotty—another EMT like Patton and a firefighter on the crew.
“Were you asking for answers?” I accuse with a hiss.
“You were searching for answers,” Patton fires back.
I whisper-shout, “I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t going to—”
He snorts. “Sure.”
“You were getting texts!”
Patton hisses, “From a walking encyclopedia. I was just curious, so sue me.”
How can he be so big and so juvenile at the same time?
We’re both standing now, facing each other across the table like two fighters in a ring. The entire restaurant watches.
This is a disaster. I should have stayed home with my crossword puzzle.
Lucky bangs a gavel. “Winnie and Patton are disqualified for unsportsmanlike conduct!”
“Wait—” I sound like I’m talking through a Halloween mask and must look horrified.
“We didn’t mean—” Patton says at the same time.
“Your punishment,” Lucky announces with theatrical flair, “is to sit there and watch the honest folks compete while you think about what you’ve done … and no free soft drink refills.”
Peggy lifts a finger. “You’re not authorized to do that.”
Everyone at Huck’s erupts in murmurs. I sink back into my seat, mortified. Patton does the same, his jaw so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack.
We sit in excruciating silence while the other teams continue playing. Our knees bump under the table. We both jerk away like we’ve been shocked by a high-voltage electrical cable.
“Thanks for ruining the night,” I murmur under my breath.
“I didn’t want to be here anyway,” he fires back, just as quietly.
“Could’ve fooled me with all that enthusiastic team spirit,” my voice drips with sarcasm.
“Says the woman who searched online for answers.”
I cringe. “You were getting texts!”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Austin and Mindy shake their heads, leaving us alone in our misery and quibbling.
Another team wins the last round, wrapping up the game. Lucky holds up the miniature squirrel statue—identical to the massive carved one outside, just pocket-sized. “The champions take home glory!”
“Didn’t want that stupid miniature statue anyway,” Patton mutters.
I glance at the prize. “Technically, it’s a life size rendition of a squirrel.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s six inches tall.”
“Life size for a chickaree squirrel. They’re small.” I pause. “Unlike the giant carved replica outside.”
His mouth twitches. It’s not quite a smile, but maybe he’s trying not to laugh at us parsing out the intricacies of squirrel size. Or he’s just laughing at me, which is more likely the case.
“Guess we don’t work well together,” I say.
“Definitely not.”
Amid the cheering for the winners, I grab my purse and coat, desperate to escape before anyone else decides to push my embarrassment button. But as I edge toward the door, Mayor Barbie intercepts me.
“Winnie! Quite a show in here tonight.” Her smile is wide as usual.
My cheeks heat. “It was a misunderstanding. I was curious about the answer since everyone was stumped. I didn’t mean to—”
“Oh, I’m not too concerned about the trivia.” She glances back at the table where Patton still sits, frowning.
I feel like hollering, Your face is going to freeze like that. But I’m an adult and wouldn’t dare do such a childish thing. Still, my brother believes it’s true and I’m not about to be the guinea pig.
Mayor Barbie says, “You two certainly have a spark. Chemistry like that is rare.”
“Him? Me? Chemistry?” I echo like I just kissed a toad. “We can barely stand each other.”
“Mmm.” Her smile sharpens. “If you say so. Oh, and by the way, I’ll have the Fireman’s Ball planning assignments on your desk by Monday. Have a lovely night!”
She breezes past, leaving me standing in the doorway, completely confused. I glance back into the restaurant. Patton is looking in my direction, but his eyes are unreadable in the neon glow of the Open sign.
I push through the door into the freezing January night. The cold bites at my cheeks, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of humiliation still burning in my chest.
Behind me, through the window, I catch one more glimpse of Patton. He’s on his feet, shrugging into his coat. Our eyes meet for half a second before I look away. My heart does something stupid and fluttery.
Chemistry? Spark? Ha! The only thing combustible between us is mutual annoyance.