Chapter 35 No Frills
No Frills
Jaxon had spent the afternoon guiding Claire through every tucked-away shop Denver had to offer. He wasn’t just showing her around—he was showing her his way of seeing the world. One local gem at a time.
Now, he carried her bags like a pack mule with a good attitude.
“I think we should head back to the hotel,” he said, adjusting a strap. “Drop this stuff off before we end up shopping for a second suitcase.”
“Agreed,” Claire laughed. “But I’m not apologizing. You offered.”
“I did. And now I’m invested.”
Back at the hotel, they barely had time to let the room door click shut before they turned right back around and headed out again—this time on a mission that mattered: food.
They walked a few blocks, rounding the same boutique corner they’d passed earlier. The old diner Jaxon remembered was now glowing under string lights, a line stretched along the brick exterior.
Claire leaned into him, grinning. “You were right. This place is packed.”
“Best sign there is.”
It took fifteen minutes to get seated. The booth was small, the table slightly wobbly, and the menu was a laminated relic from another decade—but it was perfect.
When the waitress returned with their drinks, she pulled out her check pad. “What can I get for you two?”
“I’ll take the house burger, all the way, fries,” Jaxon said, tapping the handwritten “Today’s Special” taped to the salt shaker.
Claire narrowed her eyes. “What’s the house burger?”
“Double patty, everything on it, fries or rings,” the waitress said. “And sweetie, those patties are a quarter-pound each.”
Claire raised a brow. “Single patty. Onion rings. Let’s not die today.”
“Coming right up,” the waitress smiled, collecting the menus.
Claire leaned in. “Good call. The line’s still out the door.”
“I heard her tell someone the wait’s up to thirty minutes.”
“Always trust a place that looks like it could collapse and still has a crowd,” Jaxon said, eyes scanning the walls. “You can feel the history in buildings like this. Like the flavor’s soaked into the drywall.”
Claire snorted. “Jesus. Are you in love with this diner already?”
“Not yet. But I have high hopes. The waitress’ shirt says Serving Denver Proudly Since 1974. That’s not a flex unless you’ve got the seasoning to back it up.”
“Now I have to know.”
“Watch,” he said, nodding toward a passing plate. “You see that? That’s a hand-patted burger. No machine ever touched that meat.”
“You can tell that from a glance?”
“Food is the one relationship I’ve never messed up.”
She smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
The burgers arrived like royalty.
Claire’s single was big enough to qualify as a crime in some states. Jaxon’s double looked like it needed its own seatbelt.
He eyed it. Strategized.
Claire watched, amused.
“You gonna ask for a hard hat, or just dive in?”
He finally went for it. The moment he took the first bite, he groaned—a sound so guttural it made Claire’s stomach growl again.
“Take a bite,” he mumbled, still chewing. “Right now.”
Claire did. Her eyes went wide before she even swallowed. Then she leaned in, taking another massive bite like she was trying to solve it like a puzzle.
Neither of them spoke.
There were no words.
Only chewing. Eye contact. Silent praise to the burger gods.
Ten minutes later, Claire was down to her last onion ring, dabbing grease off her fingers with a napkin. Jaxon, however, was waging war.
He stared at the burger like it had insulted his ancestors. He took one more bite, sighed, and leaned back against the booth, defeated.
“I can’t even look at this thing anymore.”
Claire cackled.
The waitress returned just in time.
“House burger got another one, huh?” she said, sliding the check onto the table.
“Oh, it got me good,” Jaxon replied, shaking his head. “I might need medical attention.”
“Don’t feel bad, sweetie. I’ve only seen one person finish it and live to tell the story—and he hasn’t been right since.”
After he paid—and left a tip that could feed a family—they started the slow walk back to the hotel.
Neither could stop talking about it.
“That was unreal.”
“I told you. It’s always the no-frills spots.”
“My stomach is fighting for its life right now.”
“Same. Shower and food coma sound like the only possible future.”
They reached the elevator, stepped inside, and leaned back against the mirrored walls.
Claire caught his reflection beside hers.
And for one long, quiet moment—they just looked.
Not at the buttons. Not at their phones. Not at the floor numbers climbing above their heads.
Just at each other.
And for the first time all day...
Neither of them had anything to say.
But everything was being said anyway.