Then she appears at my cart, staring at the contents with undisguised horror.
"What is that?" She points at the steaks I've selected.
"Ribeye. On sale."
"That's not steak, that's a heart attack waiting to happen. Look at the marbling." She picks up the package between two pinched fingers and scowls at me. "Do you have any idea what this will do to your arteries?"
"Make them happy?" I take the package back and drop it in the cart. "I'm not asking for your medical opinion on my groceries."
"Well, you're getting it anyway." She starts pulling items from my cart—bacon, butter, a bag of russet potatoes. "You eat worse than a trucker. When's the last time you had a vegetable that wasn't fried?"
"Last week. Had corn with my steak."
"Corn doesn't count," she barks and starts loading my cart with produce, tossing in kale and Brussels sprouts and other green things I wouldn't feed to livestock. "You need fiber, vitamins, antioxidants. Your diet's actively trying to kill you."
"My diet is fine. Your interference is what's going to kill me."
"Oh, please." She holds up a package of ground beef. "This has more fat content than protein. You might as well inject lard directly into your veins."
"Give me that." I snatch it back, returning it to the cart. "I've eaten this way for forty years and I'm still here."
"Forty years of clogged arteries and high cholesterol. Congratulations." She grabs a bag of quinoa and waves it at me. "Try this instead. Whole grains, complete protein, won't destroy your cardiovascular system."
"I don't even know what that is."
"It's real food. Not whatever processed garbage you've been surviving on."
We're drawing attention now. A woman in the next aisle is watching us with barely concealed amusement and an older man by the deli counter is grinning. Approaching from the back of the store, moving like she's stalking prey, is Ellie Hooper.
Blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, green eyes bright with curiosity, petite frame clad in a flour-dusted apron over jeans and a T-shirt. She owns the diner, and knows everyone's business, and has been trying to crack my defenses since I moved here.
"Well, well." Her voice carries across the aisle. "Mr. Strouse, I didn't know you had company." Ellie's tone is suggestive, like she thinks I'm sleeping with this veggie-pusher, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Yeah, she's good looking, but I'll never date a woman who stands between me and my meat and potatoes.
I force what might pass for a smile as I say, "Ellie, this is my sister, Sarah. She's visiting for a few weeks."
Ellie's gaze sweeps over Sloane, assessing her in a few blinks of an eye. "Sister? You never mentioned a sister." Then she meets my gaze and I see that snarky gossip hound come out. If you want news to travel fast, just tell Ms. Hooper. She knows every woman in town and her connection is like lightning.
"We're not close," Sloane says before I can respond. "Different fathers. He got all the charm and social skills."
Ellie laughs, delighted. "I like her already. How long are you staying, Sarah?"
"Not long," I interject.
"Too long," Sloane says simultaneously.
Ellie's grin widens. "Sibling rivalry? I heard about the medication situation. Sheriff Carver mentioned you had a rough night at the station over the weekend."
Sloane's expression darkens but she keeps her mouth shut as the color drains from her face. I appreciate the restraint she shows, though I've already explained to her what happens if word gets out that she was sent here by someone in the city I came from. We'll never escape that heat.
"She's doing better now," I say carefully. "Just needed some time to adjust."
"Well, that's good to hear." Ellie leans against her cart, getting comfortable. "You know, we're having our annual Halloween bash at the diner next Friday. Adults only, costume contest, apple bobbing, the whole deal. You should both come."
"We're not interested—" I start.
"Oh my God, that sounds like a blast," Sloane cuts in, and I can hear the spite in her voice. "That sounds fantastic. We'll definitely be there."
I turn to stare at her. "No, we won't."
