Sal’s Diner is an institution. Run by Kelly Adams, who—according to my dad—took over from her parents when they decided to retire. Shockingly enough, no one in the family is named Sal. The story goes that the family ran into a dog in the alley when they first moved here and decided to open the place. They took him to the vet and found out the dog’s name was Sal, and he liked to wander the town. The Adams family decided that if he was a dog of the town, they should name the diner after him. The rest, as they say, is history.
Kelly and I went to school together. Hell, we practically grew up together, but after I moved away, I did the shitty thing and ignored any connections from Bluebell Falls. Aside from my parents, I didn’t keep in touch with anyone, and the only information I got was from whatever gossip my dad got that week. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t always do the best at keeping up with my parents, either. I’ll be honest, I forgot a large amount of the people I grew up with. I remember some names, like Kelly’s, but it’s like I disassociated when I moved, and my brain forgotabout the people I grew up with. I’m not sure what the general reception will be, but this is something I knew I would have to deal with when choosing to come back here.
Now, it’s time to put my big-girl pants on and face the people of Bluebell Falls.
Walking into the diner is like walking out of the Tardis after traveling back in time and having an obscure adventure. Nothing has changed—not the chairs, not the booths, and not the menu board hanging from the ceiling. A wave of nostalgia runs through me, and a small smile tips up the edge of my lips.
A voice from behind the counter draws my attention. “Well, I’ll be damned. I thought your papa was joking when he said you were back in town.”
“Nope, here I am, in the flesh.” I gesture down my body.
Kelly has changed a lot in the almost fifteen years since I’ve been back, but she’s still rocking her ice-blonde hair in French braids and wearing the standard Sal’s uniform of jeans and plaid shirt.
“Well, grab a seat, and I’ll get you some food,” she says like I didn’t disappear for years.
“Actually, I was going to grab it to go. I’ve still got some work to get done, so I need to head back.” I’m not sure why I feel embarrassed, but her genuine hospitality has me struggling with my decision from all those years ago to cut everyone out of my life. I feel uncomfortable in my own skin, and it gives me even more reason to get out of here quickly. That out-of-control feeling is swarming over me, and it’s making my skin itch.
“Alrighty then, what’ll it be?” Kelly asks, holding no animosity towards me.
“Umm, just a cheeseburger and fries please,” I say and hand her some cash. I move to sit at a table off to the side to wait.
She nods as she turns around and puts the order in, giving me the opportunity to look around. It’s fairly busy. Most of the tables and booths are filled, and I catch the occasional look as my eyes travel across the room. I’ve never felt quite as much of an outsider as I do right now. No one is outright giving me a dirty look. It’s more curiosity than anything, but I can feel my anxiety ratchet up. That is, until my eyes catch onto the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They spark a vague recollection, but I can’t seem to place them. The man behind the eyes is just as distracting. He’s huge. Even sitting, I can tell he’s well over six feet tall. I trail my gaze lower and see untidy scruff along his jaw, and his T-shirt, which barely contains his biceps.
He clears his throat, and my eyes dart back up to his. A sexy-as-hell smirk spans his face, and I can feel the blush taking over my own.
“Alright, cheeseburger and fries. I threw in some onion rings too since you used to live off of those.” Kelly steps between me and the hottie. Thank God too because I definitely don’t need to get involved with anyone right now. My life is enough of a mess, thank you very much. Even looking feels like too much at the moment.
And I’m not staying here.Right, there’s that too.
“Thanks, Kelly.” I give her a genuine smile.
She isn’t lying. I think my primary food group for most of my adolescence were the onion rings here and pizza from Mullin’s. I grab the bag from her hands, and speedwalk to the door.
The drive back is maddeningly quiet, and the smell of those damn onion rings is making my mouth water. I finally pull into my driveway and head inside. Sitting on my couch, I shove papers to the side of my coffee table and lay out the feast Kelly sent me home with.
I scarf down my food, hoping that if I’m able to jump back into work quickly, I can finish up my day early and start unpacking this hell hole so I’m not living inboxes.
I send my boss a quick update, letting him know what I accomplished this morning, before pulling up the ads I found on the drive. They are definitely basic, and it makes me wonder what he’s using these for. It’s not like you need real advertising in this town. Everyone knows who the best person for literally every job is. The company name, Bluebell Landscaping, gives me a lot to work with, so I run with that idea as I pull up pictures and fonts to play with.
I get so engrossed in making this ad eye-popping, that I don’t realize how late it is until an internal message pops up from my email.
Ledger Hutton
I noticed you’re still logged in and just wanted to make sure you sign off shortly. You’re already past a normal eight-hour day.
I read it twice, trying to decipher his tone. It doesn’t seem like he’s upset, and I get paid a salary so it’s not like I’m getting overtime, but I can’t tell if he’s mad that I’m still working.
Ainsley Mathews:
I was so engrossed with this ad, I didn’t even realize what time it was. I apologize. Let me just finish this up really quick, and I’ll send it your way and sign off.
Ledger Hutton:
No need to apologize. I just didn’t want you to get into the habit of working late.
What kind of boss is this? Are there really employers out there that don’t want you working a shit ton of hours to get your work done?
Hello, small town job. We’re not in the big city anymore.
