Cole’s lips curved. “So, you’re finally letting her help.”
“Don’t gloat. She’s going to send some cash first, then a certified check when I find a vehicle.”
“Get a prepaid Visa. She can transfer funds right to it. The pharmacy up the street carries them.”
Aftyn blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shrugged. “No idea.”
She laughed. “I’ll walk over after my shift. Thank you.” She glanced around at the packed diner. “Why is it so busy today?”
“Harvest season’s coming in next week. Farmersand ranchers want a good breakfast before heading out. Barley, oats, corn, root vegetables, all coming in through September, some into October depending on the weather.”
“I can’t believe it’s almost September. I’ve been here nearly two months.” She shook her head. “What’ll you have?”
“The usual. And more coffee.” He lifted his mug and turned to the elderly man beside him who’d started talking.
Aftyn scribbled the order, clipped it to the wheel, and tapped the bell. Around her the diner hummed with the morning rush, and she found herself smiling. Just the way she liked it.
****
Cole tracked Aftyn’s movements as she floated between customers, the scent of coffee and bacon hanging in the air. Harvest season had him buried from dawn to dusk, but today he’d made an exception. Her laughter drifted across the room as she chatted with an elderly man at the counter.
“Beautiful woman,” the white-haired gentleman beside him remarked, hands wrapped around his mug.
“Yes, she is.”
The old man’s eyes crinkled. “Makes me wish I was fifty years younger. I’d give you a run for your money.” He jabbed a bony elbow into Cole’s ribs with surprising force, making Cole laugh.
“Sir, I’m sure you could.”
The bell above the door jingled. Cole glanced over and went still. A tall man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped in, dark blond hair slicked back without astrand out of place, Italian leather shoes gleaming under the diner lights. His cologne announced him before he’d fully cleared the door. Perfect white teeth flashed as he smiled across the room, and Cole’s gaze cut to Aftyn to find her smiling back. His stomach clenched. Then it clicked. The PI. Had to be. Cole’s fingers curled against his thigh. He didn’t like him. The man stuck out like a peacock in a chicken coop.
Aftyn set his breakfast on the counter a few minutes later, a fluffy Western omelet with red pepper, ham, and melted cheddar, and refilled his mug.
“Thank you.”
She twisted her dishrag. “Would you like to come to dinner Friday evening? I’ll cook.”
“Can you cook?” He smirked.
She straightened, feigning offense. “Of course. What do you like?”
“Whatever you make is fine.”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes? My aunt’s recipe. Six work?”
“Perfect. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” He lifted his mug. “So, who’s Slick?”
Her brow furrowed. “Slick?”
“Fancy suit, shiny shoes, looks like he stepped off a movie set.”
“That’s Sterling Peterson. The PI Aunt Ping hired.”
Cole nearly choked on his coffee.“Sterling?”
“Be nice.” She fixed him with a look.
