The diner had been in business since the late sixties, owned and operated by the Rosen family. Monty Rosen had passed away a few years ago and his grandson had taken over the kitchen duties, but Monty’s wife, Sheila, was still very much alive, and even though she was in her late seventies, she insisted on acting as hostess three days a week.
Her heavily mascara-ed eyes widened when she spotted the two of them waiting for a table.
“Briar Nilson! Is that you?”
Royce absolutely did not laugh when Sheila rushed over and wrapped her arms around Briar. The befuddled expression on Briar’s gorgeous face was priceless, but she gingerly squeezed Sheila in return. Releasing Briar, Sheila turned to Royce. “And congratulations to you, young man, we need a real sheriff in this town.” The tips of his ears burned at the ridiculous compliment, and he pointedly did not look in Briar’s direction.
Plucking two large plastic menus from the hostess station, Sheila motioned for them to follow as she led them to an open booth next to the front window, a prime spot Royce knew from experience. Everyone coming into the diner would see them and Sheila would be able to stop and talk to them when she wasn’t busy helping other customers—and tell everyone Briar was back in town.
Maybe stopping here hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had. Then he remembered Briar’s breathy “God, yes” in response to his suggestion and figured it was worth it, even if he did have a very inappropriate reaction. Who knew coffee could be so sexy?
“Thanks, Sheila,” Royce said as he sank onto the too-soft, well-used vinyl bench and Briar slid in opposite him.
Sheila beamed. “I am just so happy to see the two of you, it’s about time. So unfortunate about your father, sweetie. I’ll be back by with coffee in just a minute.” With that, she rushed off to greet old-timers Dan Johnson and Craig Long, who’d arrived seconds behind them.
Briar stared over the top of her menu at him. “What is she talking about, ‘it’s about time’?”
“I have no idea.”
He really didn’t.
“Whatever,” she muttered, her eyes on the menu. “What’s good here? There’s a lot on the menu. I don’t think I’m that hungry, though.”
“I usually get the waffles and bacon.”
Briar twitched, as if the thought of more food was just too much.
Sheila was back in seconds, carrying a carafe of coffee and two mugs. She set all three items down on the table with a clunk. “Breakfast?”
Briar shook her head and smiled politely. “Just coffee, thanks.”
Sheila started to say something, probably to encourage Briar to order food because she was too skinny (Briar was perfect, but Royce knew Sheila’s ways), or to ask when they were getting married, for fuck’s sake (but really, he did know her ways), but luckily for them all, Briar’s phone chimed.
Raising a finger, Briar said, “Excuse me, I need to get this.” She slid back out of the booth and moved around Sheila to the door.
“Just coffee for me, too, Sheila. We have some errands to get done in Bridgeton this morning.”
Shaking her head at his life choices, Sheila left to attend to another table.
Why was he telling Sheila their agenda as if she had a stake in their day? Rexville and its inhabitants had a sneaky way of getting under his skin. When he’d first been back, he’d found himself bemused by town life. He’d had this idea that he might take a few months, see where he might really want to land, then head there, but by the end of his personal deadline, he’d realized that Rexville was it for him. His father, the memories of growing up—they were all in the past, his future was his own to build.
Opening a security company had seemed like a no-brainer. And after Daisy Stone secured a deal on the Pratt building that the four of them couldn’t pass up, staying in town had been the right thing to do. Daisy was a one-woman Rexville rejuvenation committee, single-handedly dragging the town into the twenty-first century. That she was also the true force behind the return of the Ren Faire, Royce had no doubt.
What about Briar, Royce wondered. Did she have any interest in coming back to Rexville permanently? She had only arrived now to take care of Tor’s business and so far had been stranded on the side of the road during a rainstorm, found an unaccounted-for dead body, been shot at, and had someone set her childhood home on fire, destroying it. Rexville hadn’t exactly given her a warm welcome.
And what business did Royce have hoping she might decide to move back anyway?
While the focus of his thoughts was outside, Royce opened the carafe and poured coffee for them. He was stirring cream into his when Briar came back inside and sat down across from him again.
“That was Adam Klay.”
“Oh, can you tell me what he had to tell you?”
Briar dumped cream into her coffee and took a sip, nodding with satisfaction. The diner was known for its coffee.
“No one knows where Jakes is, and he is on administrative leave. All Klay could tell me was that an investigation has been launched into Jakes’s whereabouts. He’s going to do his best to dig deeper and see what he can find out. The agencies are friendly but whoever he talked with didn’t give up much.”
“We know where Jakes is,” Royce said. At least, he was fairly sure Jakes was in or around Rexville. Ever since Bishop had discovered Jake’s military history, Royce had assumed he was the one shooting at them yesterday. Although he couldn’t figure out why.