I feel it immediately. Heads turn, but not dramatically. It doesn’t seem rude. But enough that I know exactly what’s happening. Everyone in this diner knows Troy Bennett. And none of them have ever seen him walk in with me.
Fantastic.
I slide into the booth across from him, trying not to think about the fact that every person in the room probably assumes I’m his girlfriend, his cousin, or his latest mistake.
A woman with silver hair piled high on her head appears beside our table before we even open menus.
Her eyes sparkle like she already knows the answer to a question she hasn’t asked yet.
“Well,” she says, planting a hand on her hip, “this is new.”
Troy doesn’t even blink.
“Afternoon, Millie.”
Millie’s gaze shifts to me. I swear I can feel her assessing my entire life story in three seconds flat.
“You must be the redhead stirring up trouble at the lumber center.”
I blink. News travels fast.
“I prefer the termexploring my options,” I say.
Millie grins.
“Oh honey, in this town those two things are the same.”
She slides two menus onto the table but keeps looking at Troy.
“You going to introduce me to your friend?”
Friend. I like that better thanquestionable life decision.Troy gestures toward me.
“Rainey.”
I lift a hand. “Hello.”
“Millie,” she says. “Owner, cook, referee of local arguments, and the only woman in town who can make Troy Bennett admit he’s hungry.”
Troy leans back against the booth.
“I’ve admitted it before.”
“Not voluntarily.”
She looks back at me, clearly delighted.
“So Rainey, what brings you to our little corner of the mountains?”
Troy says calmly, “She bought the Carter place.”
Millie’s eyebrows climb halfway to her hairline.
“The ridge cabin?”
Oh no. That reaction does not inspire confidence. I smile weakly.
“Yes. Apparently.”
