According to the accident report, Luke had been speeding, which he’d been known to do. He’d also been drinking. A lot. Also something he’d been known to do. The autopsy had shown high levels of alcohol in his system, and while Brian had warned that it was normal for there to be higher levels shown in the system after death, the amount was significant enough—given the circumstances—that he should have never gotten behind the wheel. According to the other driver, he’d drifted over into oncoming traffic, and when he’d finally noticed, he’d overcompensated and plowed through the guardrail, crashing down into the hillside below. While it gave little comfort, we’d been told that they’d both died quickly.
I tried to shake out of my thoughts of that terrible night but it was playing on an endless loop in my head. The family had experienced so much tragedy, and I worried about Henry especially. He’d lost his father and grandfather at such a tender age. I wasn’t sure how much he remembered about them, given that he was only two when it happened, but he knew he should have them, and that’s what caused my sleeplessness. My boy had been deprived, and no mother liked that.
Cal wasn’t a replacement for Luke, far from it, but any family Henry had was important. And if Cal brought a little joy to all our lives while he was around, would that be such a bad thing? Before that could happen, though, I was going to have to heal the breach with Cal. I owed that to my boyandCal. So, I guess that meant I needed to apologize.
TEN
CAL
Itossed and turned for most of the night. By the time I gave up on sleeping and hauled myself out of bed at dawn, I felt like I’d been dragged by a bull. It didn’t help that the mattress I was sleeping on had more lumps than my mom’s gravy. I stood under the hot shower spray—which was thankfully strong—hoping to wash away yesterday’s fiasco at the Thorne ranch.
I didn’t feel as if I’d succeeded, but once the water started running cool, I got out and dressed, then decided to go for a walk to clear my head. My next scheduled appearance wasn’t until tomorrow, so I had today to dwell on my thoughts and figure out a way to get through this without stepping on too many toes.
Main Street was quiet at this hour, which I chalked up to the local ranchers dealing with morning chores before venturing into town. I walked past darkened windows, my mood remaining equally dark.
“Hey, man, careful where you’re walking.”
I was startled at the voice coming from so close to me and managed tostop before running into a large, heavily tattooed guy with a bunch of boxes on a hand cart.
“My bad. I wasn’t paying attention,” I said. “Oh, hey, you’re the cook from the diner.” I realized I was standing in front of the Bite and Brew, but like everywhere else, they weren’t open yet. Too bad. Another plate of those biscuits and gravy sounded about perfect right now.
“That’s me. Marc Diaz.” He held his hand out for me to shake. “And you’re Cal Pierce. I saw you compete at Rodeo Grit down in Austin last year. Those roping tricks you were doing between events were fantastic.”
“A Guinness World Record adjudicator was there to monitor and score my attempt.”
“And?”
He genuinely looked interested and I grinned. “That was my second world record.” I glanced over at the hours on the door and was disappointed to see that the diner didn’t open for another hour.
The disappointment must’ve have shown on my face, because Marc pointed to the door with a head tilt. “If you want to come inside, coffee is already brewing. It’ll take me ten minutes to get these boxes unloaded and the grill fired up, but if you don’t mind giving me a hand, then I’d be happy to repay you by making you something before we open.” I readily agreed and helped him bring the boxes inside.
“Grab yourself a cuppa and take a seat at the counter. I’ll be right back.”
I found the clean mugs and poured myself a cup, then doctored it up before taking my first sip and wow. I smacked my lips.
“Good, right?” Marc asked. “I get the beans from Carly’s Coffee, down on the corner. Coffee in all its variations is her domain, so Ifigured rather than compete with her, I’d stick to brewing and let her handle all the rest.”
That sounded like smart thinking to me. I watched him pour himself a cup and drink it black. Unfortunately, I’d had too much gas station coffee over the years and these days, my stomach would rebel at drinking it like that.
Marc looped his apron around his neck and clapped his hands. “What can I get you to eat?” I was on the verge of asking for biscuits and gravy again when he made some suggestions. “I’ve been playing around with curing my own bacon. The plan is to have it up on the menu later this week. You’d be doing me a favor if you gave it a try and let me know your opinion. I can make you up an omelet to go with it, unless you’d rather have French toast? Bread’s homemade just like my biscuits.”
I rubbed my stomach and did my best not to drool at the offering. “That all sounds fantastic.” I blew out a breath. “Would I sound too indecisive if I said ‘chef’s choice’?” Clearly this guy was no line cook. He didn’t need me telling him what to do.
He clapped me on the back with enough force to push me forward on the stool. “Nope. I got you.” We made small talk while he cooked and I ended up wiping my mouth a couple times to hide the drool, which did threaten to fall. Finally, he set a plate down in front of me loaded with eggs, bacon, and French toast with some sort of fruit topping.
My first bite of bacon with the custardy French toast made me groan. From the look on Marc’s face, he was pleased at my enjoyment. I was halfway through my meal before I felt satiated enough to slow down.
“So, what’s a guy with your culinary expertise doing running a diner in a town this small?” I asked him. It didn’t make sense to me.
“The best reason. Love.” I must have given him a skeptical look because he chuckled. “I was working in a restaurant in Vegas whenAurora came in with some of her friends. They were doing a girls’ only weekend for her birthday and in an instant, I knew I was looking at my future wife and mother of my children.”
“And the rest is history?” I said and he shook his head.
“Oh, hell no. She wanted nothing to do with the big, tattooed guy who thought he was God’s gift to women. She didn’t hesitate to knock me down a peg or two.” He chuckled and his eyes had a faraway look, as if he was remembering their first meeting.
“I kept hoping she’d come back to the restaurant but she never did. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. So, I called in every favor I could with some friends working at the hotel and managed to find out her name and where she was from. On my next days off, I hopped on my bike and headed to Poplar Springs. To say she was surprised to see me would be an understatement. But we hit it off all the same. I knew I couldn’t go back to Vegas, and she had no desire to live anywhere else. So, I called my boss and told him I wasn’t returning and took the job as line cook here in the diner. When her parents retired, we took over.”
“Wow.” I wasn’t sure how else to put it. “And you don’t regret moving to a small town?”
