Inside, The Grill smells like grease and nostalgia. Like old fry oil and fresh coffee and a thousand late-night confessions.
There’s a jukebox in the corner playing some old country songs, red vinyl booths along the wall, and a cracked tile floor that’s seen more boots than sneakers. A ceiling fan turns lazy overhead.
The place is warm, lived-in, the kind of diner where the coffee is strong and the opinions are stronger.
We slide into a booth near the wall. Sierra sits across from me, purse on her lap like she’s afraid to set it down.
Her eyes dart around the diner, taking everything in. The old men in the corner talking with their hands. The couple sharing fries like they don’t care who’s watching. The little sign on the wall that says NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO PROBLEM, and the faded Polaroids behind the counter of rodeo winners and big fish and smiling locals.
A waitress named Mary, who’s been working here since high school, sweeps by our booth. She calls everyone “honey” and doesn’t write anything down because she’s got a memory like a steel trap. She grins when she sees me.
“Knox Sutton,” she drawls. “Long time no see.”
Her gaze slides to Sierra. Something speculative glints in her eye.
“And you brought a friend.”
“Mary,” I greet, and keep it moving before she can dig. “Two burgers, two fries, extra pickles. Milkshake for the lady. Whatever beer you’ve got on tap for me.”
Sierra sputters. “I didn’t say I wanted a milkshake.”
Mary smiles like she’s already decided Sierra belongs here. “You look like a milkshake girl. Chocolate okay?”
Sierra blinks, then nods begrudgingly. “Chocolate is always okay.”
“Do people know each other here?” she asks quietly.
“Mostly,” I say. “Valor Springs isn’t huge. The Ranch is on the outskirts. Town’s close enough if you need supplies, far enough for privacy. People talk.”
I take a pull of water, then add, “Pepper’s Pie & Coffee is the hub for gossip if you’re into that.”
“Pepper’s Pie & Coffee?” she repeats. “That’s a mouthful.”
“So is their pie,” I say.
Her mouth twitches, almost a smile.
“You’ll meet Rose. She’ll know your order after two visits, and she’ll call you sugar like she raised you. Don’t argue. It’s easier to let her.”
She smiles faintly, fingers tracing the rim of her water glass. “Sounds charming. Is there anywhere normal? Like a Target?”
“No Target,” I say, “but there’s The Eager Beaver. Dive bar. Pool tables, cheap beer, questionable karaoke nights.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“There’s the Valor Springs Arena. Rodeos, horse shows, bull riding.” I keep going, because she asked. “And there’s Mesquite Creek if you want to swim. Clear water. Good for cooling down on hot days.”
She just stares at me.
I shrug. “Nearest one’s more than an hour away.”
Her eyes widen. “So, if I need new eyeliner, what am I supposed to do? Raid a feed store?”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. “Do I look like I know much about eyeliner, darlin’?”
She looks like she’s about to throw something at me.
Instead, she presses her lips together, swallowing the sass like she’s saving it for later.
