Sonni, the waitress, gave me a bored nod of her head, poured some Mississippi Mud into the mugs in front of us, then scooted the sugar bowl toward Celia.
“Flint Mendota! As I live and breathe!” another woman behind the counter shouted as she hustled around the counter to wrap her arms around my waist. “It’s okay, Sonni. I’ll take care of this giant teddy bear and his friend.”
Sonni took off for the kitchen.
Celia looked between me and the woman attached to my waist. “Friend of yours?”
The woman stepped back and smiled at Celia. “I’m Gracie. This here’s my diner. Welcome!”
Celia’s eyes twinkled at Gracie. “Thank you. That’s a much better reception than we got next door at the motel.”
Gracie rolled her eyes. “That old goat! He ain’t got the good sense God gave a rock! I’m so glad to see you, Flint. What brought you back to town?”
I swear the entire diner went quiet and leaned forward to hear the answer.
“Just passing through Miz Gracie,” I ducked my head and sat back on my stool. The sooner we got out of here, the better.
Gracie raised her eyebrow at me, looked at Celia, then gave me an expectant look.
Shit.
I cleared my throat. “Miz Gracie, this is Celia Saber Cruz. Celia, this is Gracie Tracy.”
Celia snickered at the Rhyme Time. “Any relation to Harry Tracy of the Dorsey Motel?”
“That old goat is my old man,” Gracie scoffed and pulled an order pad out of her apron. “Married too dang long to get rid of him now. I wouldn’t know who else to fuss with if he weren’t around anymore. So, what’ll it be?"
“Waffles. And keep the coffee coming,” Celia handed over her menu.
“I’ll take the Rancher Special,” I winked at Gracie.
Gracie scribbled it all down, yelled our orders to the short-order cook, then disappeared into the kitchen.
“You didn’t even look at the menu,” Celia frowned in my general direction.
I shrugged. I opened my mouth to say something else, but a familiar voice sent ice down my spine.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here.”
I took a deep breath and turned toward the Voice of Doom.
“What do you want?” I sighed.
“I want you to get the hell out of my town,Mendota.”
Celia stood and got right into the face of Drucker Dorsey, the fifth. Known around these parts as Quinn.
“In his face” was more of a feeling, not an actual location, since he still had a good six inches on her.
“Listen, bucko,” Celia poked her finger into Quinn’s chest. “I don’t know who the heck you think you are, but where I come from, you don’t treat visitors to town this rudely.”
“Visitors?” Quinn looked down at Celia and smiled. “Well, hello, Sugar. Where are you from? Who are your people?”
“I’m Celia Saber Cruz. Flint Mendota is mypeople,” Celia huffed. “And I am decidedlynotyour Sugar.”
She may be mad at me for the moment, but you’d never know the way she faced off with Quinn. When she called me her “people,” my chest puffed up a little bit. I grinned like a lunatic. “Mypeople. Celia.”
Quinn shook his head. “Too bad you have terrible taste, Miz Celia. This guy is bad news. And that means you’re bad news too.”
