Well, of course Dale Pruitt is making another scene. I can’t help but pay attention to him as he explodes at the new waitress I’ve been trying to stop staring at since we walked in here. I mean, she did just dump his entire meal down the front of him. I’d be ticked off too, but I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of the restaurant yelling my head off like some kind of lunatic about it. Shit happens.

Dale reminds me of an old Chevy half-ton I used to own. It looked a bit worn down on the outside, but not too bad, considering how much wear and tear and miles were on it. Still, every single time I took her out, we wouldn’t get more than a hundred feet down the road and steam would be rolling out from under the hood. It took nothing at all for her to blow a gasket.

Of course, even though he didn't do anything to deserve it, I can’t help the smile creeping over my face. Dale has been nothing but a pain in the ass for just about everyone in this town for years. He’s got nothing better to do most days than to worry about what sorts of bylaws people might be breaking on their own country properties. From time to time, he and his wife have even been known to sneak around people’s yards without permission with a measuring tape in hand, writing down exactly how far their fences are spaced or how close their chicken coops are to their property lines. He’s what my mama would call “a piece of work.”

Fries scatter all over the floor and Dale just keeps yelling. The poor girl who messed up is crying. Holden jumps up and I try to grab his arm, but he shakes off my hand and marches over with his jaw so tight it might pop out of joint.

“Marjorie! What the hell kind of place are you running here? You hiring any idiot off the street now who needs work? Look at this mess,” Dale runs his mouth and everyone around him has no choice but be a part of the scene he’s making.

“I’m sorry,” the new girl cries and falls to her hands and knees, trying to scoop up the mess from the floor.

“Sorry won’t fix my pants!”

“The girl said she was sorry, Dale. You already upset her enough. How about you remember your manners and treat the lady like a gentleman.” Holden swoops in and grips his arm tight.

“My manners? I suppose I should write her a thank you card for ruining my entire day. Not to mention my pants.” Dale turns to face Holden and they both jut out their jaws.

“Yeah, and she put ice in our drinks.” His wife, Gayle, rattles her glass around like she’s theatrically presenting evidence at some sort of trial. “And our teeth are sensitive.” She pouts.

“No one said you have to write up any thank you cards. It’s called being civil.” Holden’s temper has taken over. His eyes are narrowed down into little slits and his nostrils are flaring as he squeezes his hands into fists, looking for a target.

“Like you’d know the first thing about that,” Dale snorts. “You chased me outta your yard with a shotgun. How civil was that?”

“You were sneaking around my ranch before dawn with your stupid tape measure, trying to report me for breaking bylaws, Dale. You’re lucky I didn’t think you were some kind of scrounging raccoon or dirty skunk, ’cause then I might have shot ya.” Holden puffs out his chest.

I jump up from the booth and saunter over to my business partner, not to mention my friend. I better get in between him and Dale before he ends up spending ten to life in prison. “Hey, let’s just cool our jets now, boys. We’ve already made a big enough scene, haven’t we? Why doesn’t everyone just sit down and stop interrupting dinner for everyone. Let the new waitress do her job, Dale.” I scan the restaurant for the pretty, young girl.

She’s still sobbing and I can see Marge has her over in a corner. Now it’s her turn to yell at her. As if Dale didn’t already do a good enough job of that. The fact that this man can’t get through a single day in this town without making some kind of scene pisses me off. For a second, my own fists clench and I need to take a deep breath and remind myself that guys like Dale aren’t worth it.

“Come on, Holden.” I squeeze my hand on his shoulder. “ Let’s see if we can get Marge to cool down.” I walk over to the corner and he follows behind me.

Now that Dale has the whole restaurant upset, he finally shuts his yap and sits down. I’m guessing one way or another he would’ve found a reason to be a dick today. This girl just made it easy for him.

“Please, I can do better. If you just give me another chance. You can take the cost of his meal outta my pay,” the girl sniffles, tears dripping off her chin.

I hate seeing a woman cry. It just twists something up inside me like a coil being turned too tight. It’s just pure instinct that I’m fighting to put my arms around her. I wish I could hold her close and let her cry against my chest until there are no more tears for my shirt to soak up. There’s something about her delicate face. She just looks so fragile. And I don’t mean because she’s sobbing. I noticed it as soon as I walked in here. It’s like she’s in over her head somehow. I’m not sure what her story is, but I think she needs some help.

“Marge, you know damn well Dale Pruitt is an asshole. Don’t fire this girl over his need for attention. It ain’t her fault his mama never gave him enough hugs,” Holden interrupts.

“It’s not just Dale.” She sighs and looks from us to the girl. “Audrey, I’m sorry. This just isn’t working out. I know you said you’ve waitressed before, but I don’t think this is the job for you, hon. Go out back and take the uniform off. You’re fired.”

Audrey doesn’t protest anymore. She doesn’t plead. Her chin quivers and her eyes fill up with fresh tears as she does what Marge told her and she disappears in through the kitchen.

“Sorry, boys, but I’m trying to run a business here. I can’t be taking in strays.” Marge looks even more tired than usual and treads away like her shoes are made from cement and heads over to Dale.

“You know”—I look at Holden—“we still need someone to help us out on the ranch. And we both know there’s no way your sister is gonna take the job.”

“No, Kayla’s made that pretty clear,” Holden snorts.

I know what he’s like, so I don’t say anything. I just wait for him to work it out in his mind. If I push Holden too much, he’ll say no. Holden always needs to come to things in his own time.

“It would help if we didn’t have to drive all the way out here to eat.” He tilts his head and looks out toward the back. “Maybe we could hire her on a trial basis?”

“I think that sounds like as good a plan as any. Let’s see if we can track her down.”