1
Tessa
“Those guys keep looking over here.”
I followed the direction of Margo’s gaze, looking over my shoulder across the dim-lit diner. A group of five men dressed in an impressive array of flannel shirts and dirty jeans were strewn around a table near the bar, laughing at something. Their gazes flicked toward Margo and me.
Yup. They were clearly talking about us.
None of the men looked familiar. And in a town as small as Eugene, that was rare. Though I had been away for a few years, everyone looked like someone I used to know.
“Looks like they're checking you out,” I said, smiling at my friend sitting across from me. It had been a year since I had last seen Margo, and her face that had always been naturally pretty was now enhanced by a subtle blend of color and bold strokes. Her brown, pixie-cut bob was striking, and her trendy top looked newly purchased and very much in style.
I hadn’t realized our casual get-together would include me sitting next to allthat. I had envisioned more of a ‘let's meet up for a quick dinner after working in the orchard all day’ type of girls' night. But I refused to feel dowdy next to her in my t-shirt and black joggers, old running shoes, and my mass of blonde tendrils sticking out of a high ponytail, because honestly, there was very little in my life these days that could embarrass me.
Margo’s face colored. “I doubt it. All the guys couldn’t keep their eyes off ofyouin high school.”
I glanced down and laughed. “What a prize I turned out to be.”
Her eyes moved behind my shoulder for a second before landing back on mine.
“Are they still looking over here?” I asked.
“They’ve already moved on and are now flirting with the waitress.”
“Men are so fickle.”
I meant that, by the way.
She smiled and took a drink. “So, you’re back in Eugene for good?”
“Yup.” I picked at the small pizza that sat before me. This place had gone downhill since high school. “Wish I could say I didn’t see that coming, but I did.”
She laughed. “When will the new office be finished?”
“September 1st.”
My older brother, Nate, had done very well with his money since he left home. He had been a physical therapist for the past six years while, at the same time, investing in Las Vegas real estate. His latest idea was to move his family back home and build a physical therapy office in Eugene. After graduating physical therapy school in Boise, I was officially licensed and would begin work at Willow Creek Physical Therapy when it opened its doors in September. Until then, I’d stay busy helping my mom recover from a double knee-replacement surgery, see a couple of at-home patients Nate had set up for me, and work my family’s orchard and produce stand. The fact that I was a twenty-four-year-old college graduate now living back at home was an unfortunate reality to my circumstances and one I planned to rectify as soon as my mom’s new knees could support her tiny frame.
“How do you like living in Virginia?” I asked Margo. “Do you still live with Holli?”
“It’s alright. Holli loves it, but it's too far away from home for me. I might move back this way in a year or so.”
We were interrupted by Chad, the thirty-something new owner of The Grub Shack (formerly known for years as the beloved Ranch House Diner). The man was huge, thick-chested, with long, greasy hair pulled up in a macho man bun. His forehead glistened with sweat, his shirt was dotted with oil stains, and he had large, rough hands that seemed more suited to fishing or hunting than manning a kitchen. He usually kept to himself, fixing burgers behind the bar, leaving the customer relations to his waitress, Jen, but as she was currently busy flirting with the table of unidentified men, it seemed he had no choice.
“Here.” He plopped a plate of fries unceremoniously down in front of Margo.
Before he could walk away, I couldn’t help but needle him a little. “Hey, Chad?”
He stopped, eyes perched on mine warily, his body inching backward. “Yeah?”
“Could you tell me what animals were harmed in the making of this cheese product?” I held up a section of my pizza. At my touch, the orange-and-white sludge broke off in a thick, curdled mass.
He fixed me with his steely gaze. “I already fired you. Do I need to kick you out, too?”
I grinned. “Can you actually fire a volunteer?”
“You absolutely can.”
