Grant
Small towns might have fewer people, but the people they did have were a hundred times more nosy. I ignored the curious eyes as we walked through the door of the Ridge Diner. The smell of bacon and coffee hit me as I walked through the door, and my stomach rumbled.
We took a free table near the back, away from as many people as possible. I wasn’t in the mood to socialize at the best of times, but right now? When Kara and I were navigating this weird setup, even less so. I had never had an issue keeping my distance from anyone in my life. What made her so different?
The waitress appeared before I could do something stupid like try to learn more about Kara. “Polly, every time I come in here, you’re working,” I said, forcing myself out of my head. I didn’t know Polly well, but she wasn’t one for pointless small talk, which made her my favorite server in the place.
“Need all the hours I can get,” she said with a shrug. “What canI get you guys?” She asked as she filled out coffee cups. I took a gulp of mine gratefully, burning my tongue in the process.
We both put in our orders, and I turned my attention to the woman in front of me. She had her brown hair piled in a bun on top of her head. She wore a long-sleeved shirt and leggings, showing off generous curves with a few well-placed muscles. Everything about her—from her job in graphic design to her leopard-print luggage—screamed city girl.
But the way she’d handled the chores the day before, and the fact that her body carried real strength, gave away her roots in the mountains.
I realized I was staring and glanced away.
Last night was something else. After we were done and our eyes had started to droop, I hadn’t even thought to ask her to sleep in her own bed. I’d wanted her next to me, where I could touch her, feel her, know she was safe. For a man who had spent his adult life intentionally alone, it was a confusing feeling. Walt had shown me that having a friend—even one you lived with—was okay. Kara might be showing me something else entirely, and the idea made me want to squirm in my seat.
It was just sex, great sex, but still sex. That didn’t change the reason she was here.
My eye caught on the top of a brown Stetson moving in our direction, and that could only mean one thing. I really wasn’t in the mood to answer the kinds of questions I knew were coming. Sure enough, a moment later there was the sound of boots approaching.
“Well, hello there, Grant,” Hank said, sounding like a cartoon character. He leaned against the side of the booth, grinning at me and then at Kara.
I gritted my teeth and introduced Kara to the sheriff.
Hank shook her hand, lingering far too long for my liking. “I was half expecting a call that you two had killed each other, but things look pretty cozy.”
“We’re fine,” I said tightly, hoping he would get the hint. I was wanting Kara all to myself.
Kara nodded.
“The grump shows his true colors. You two certainly have the town talking.”
“People talk anyway,” I said, dismissively.
Hank’s grin widened. “True. But you two? This is juicier than a soap opera.”
Kara cleared her throat. “Is it always like this? Feeling like you’re in a fishbowl?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said.
Hank opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but he was drowned out by a new voice.
“Well, look what we have here.”
I groaned.
Ma Keegan.
Of course.
There were people who talked too much and people who talked too loud. Then there was Ma. She was all of that, plus nosy, pushy, and completely without a filter. If I wasn’t in the mood for Hank, I really wasn’t in the mood for Ma.
She marched over from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. Silver-streaked red hair stuck out of her messy bun. Her cheeks were rosy, her glasses bouncing against her chest on their chain.
“Morning, Ma,” I said, bracing myself.
“Don’t morning Ma me, Grant Callahan.” She planted a hand on her hip and looked between me and Kara. “You walk in herewith a pretty woman and don’t think to introduce her?”
