A couple days later, I’m back at Milton’s for lunch with Miguel.

He mutters under the Garth Brooks song that’s playing. “I can’t believe you lasted a whole forty-eight hours without putting your balls out on this table so Gwen Milton could take another whack at them.”

“O ye of little faith. She’s gonna come around.”

“Next time she’s going to barbecue your sac and put it on the menu.”

I blow him off and take up my usual position by resting my arms on the back of the seat. Gwen is working the counter, and she hasn’t looked over here once. Right now she’s focused on Grace, who just darted into the kitchen as a deputy sheriff sauntered inside the door. Several people in the diner are paying attention as Gwen gives the lawman a resigned smile.

Then she shrugs and greets him. “How’s it going, Jesse?”

The deputy leans against the counter in front of the register, sending Gwen an easy smile. “Can’t complain.”

For a second, I tense up, because the guy has tanned skin, dark hair under his baseball cap, and a way of carrying himself like he knows women tend to drop what they’re doing as soon as they see him. He also looks like he drinks a lot of milk and eats a lot of protein. But as I realize that Gwen seems just as unimpressed with him as she is with me, I relax. She goes to fetch a boxed order that the cook has just set in the kitchen window. As the deputy pays, he raises his voice above the music and drawls, “I’d appreciate it if you would say hi to Grace whenever she returns. You know, I thought I saw her when I was coming in, but she seems to have disappeared into thin air. Strange. That happens a lot with Grace whenever I walk through a door.”

Gwen laughs and closes the register drawer. “Maybe it’s time you started walking through other doors. Know what I mean?”

“Maybe Grace ought to tell me that herself.”

When he winks at Gwen, then grabs his boxed meal and ambles out of the diner, a collective titter runs through the room from the other customers.

“Okay, Gracie!” Gwen yells, taking her phone out of her apron and leaning against the counter. “You can come out now!”

Grace is out of the kitchen like a shot, acting as if nothing happened. Then she comes right over to our booth with a fresh smile on her bright face. “Welcome back, boys. What do you have a hankering for today?”

Like always, I glance at Gwen, but she’s already reading. Either she couldn’t care less about how I’ve been sitting here waiting for her to glance over, or she’s three seconds away from running into the kitchen to get away from me, just like Grace did with that deputy for whatever reason.

I nod toward the door. “So what was that about?”

Grace also looks at the door, then back at me, then at Miguel. “What do you mean?”

Miguel snorts. “That deputy you just dusted.”

“Oh, him.” Grace shrugs. “It’s a long-standing feud sort of thing. Kind of like the McHats and Coyfrields, you know?”

“Hatfields and McCoys?” I ask.

“Yeah, them. Jesse Herrera and I are like …” She searches for words with her hands. “Well, I’m just going to be blunt, because you’re bound to hear it anyway around this town. I had high expectations when I went out with him once, and let’s just say I would rather eat a piece of toe clipping pie than experience a night with him again.”

Both Miguel and I get Well, shit expressions. Grace volleys back with her own You did ask me look.

Then I glance at oblivious Gwen again, wondering how I’m going to get to talk to her without making my interest so obvious that it scares her off. “I imagine it’s easier for you to stay out of the deputy’s way if you’re working back in the kitchen. But it seems you’re mostly on the floor.”

“Wow.” Grace smiles. “Someone’s sure paying attention to how things work around here.”

“It’s just that your sister waited on us the other day when you were off shift. She’s not usually out here, is she?”

“Uh-uh. Gwen likes running things from her enclosure. I like being free to work the tables. I’m way more social than she is, anyway, and that’s one of the reasons people like to come in here. You could say I’m a draw.” She grins and shrugs.

Okay. So I’m not going to get Gwen to wait on us again unless I’m sitting at the counter or Grace is off shift. But there’s another scenario that could bring Gwen onto the floor and to this table — if Grace gets to talking with her customers, Gwen has a tendency to swoop in to make sure things run smoothly. So maybe all I have to do today to get Gwen over here is wait until her sister is caught up in a conversation with another table.

Luckily, the odds of that are pretty good.

After Miguel and I put in our orders — a chili cheeseburger for him and fried tripe for me because why the hell not? — I bide my time, drinking my soda. I know that Grace will get hung up eventually on those truckers near the back who keep calling for her, or there’re also some nerd boys from Full Circle Technologies who keep looking at her and blushing, so that’s another opportunity.

Just biding my time …

Finally Grace settles in with the truckers, and I set my empty soda glass near the edge of the table.

Miguel wings an eyebrow at me like he knows exactly what my plan is. I shrug, then count down the seconds until Gwen’s customer radar goes off behind that counter. Her eyes fix onto my glass, then she glances at Grace, who’s laughing and joking with the guys. There’s a slow burn that comes over Gwen until she huffs out a long breath, then comes out from around the counter toward our table.

See? All it took was patience.

Without a word, she grabs my glass, but I stop her from taking off right away by saying, “So how’re you?”

She pauses as if she’s weighing the option of ignoring me, and Miguel sits back in his seat like he’s bird watching or something. Then she looks back at the counter, probably hoping someone needs her at the register, but no one does, and she crosses her arms over her chest. Too bad, because even though she isn’t voluptuous, she’s round and soft there, and I’ve already had plenty of fantasies about getting her bra on the floor along with every other piece of clothing she has on.

“I’m fine,” she finally says. “But tired.”

That’s something to go on. “You carry off tired pretty well.”

“Um … thanks?”

“Don’t you ever get a day off?”

She glances at the counter once more, and I swear she’s willing more customers into existence only so she doesn’t have to sit here talking with me. Then she shrugs again. “I sort of get time off on Mondays, when Mom runs the floor with Seamus at the counter and Irina takes over the kitchen. But we’ve been shorthanded lately with all the crud going around town.”

“Sounds like you’re all overworked.”

She’s already starting to back away from the table. “Yeah, well, we don’t have much choice around here.”

Just as I’m about to tell her she’s got a lot of choices, she just needs to give some of them a chance, she pulls out of my orbit and goes to refill my soda.

The old song on the jukebox has Conway Twitty saying, “Hello, Darlin’,” and the irony of the lyrics doesn’t escape me because of all the goodbyes I’m getting. Miguel hasn’t missed a beat, either.

“Any guy who’s got more brains and less ego would’ve let this one go by now,” he says.

“Some things aren’t meant to be rushed, kind of like good wines. Did you ever think of that?”

Miguel rolls his eyes as the cook calls out from the kitchen window. “Order up for table seven!” I get a peek at the cook before she disappears, and the woman looks like an older version of the twins. She actually resembles Gwen way more because of her obvious exhaustion.

By now, Grace must’ve had her fill of the truckers, because she makes a beeline to the window to scoop up the order. When she delivers it to our table, Gwen is right behind her with my soda. As if she planned to use Grace as a shield, she makes a quick escape before I can detain her again.

Maybe Miguel’s right — I should spend my time on other more profitable pursuits. But, fuck, now this has officially become a challenge.

While Miguel and I eat, I notice how Gwen busies herself by cleaning the counter to a shine, pausing every once in a while to wipe her arm over her brow as if she could use just one night of good sleep. She also looks worried, and it’s the same expression as the one I caught on the cook’s face during that fleeting moment I saw her in the kitchen window. I wonder if their dad wears the same tired frown all the time, but I haven’t seen anyone around here who might be their father.

The diner’s door opens, and in walks Abby Peters. I know her because she interviewed me for one of her Cherry Valley blogs. She’s a petite sparkplug with hair that’s redder than hell and a personality to match. She’s also just a kid in college, and when she interviewed me, she was blushing. I didn’t encourage her then, and I sure won’t now.

Besides, I’ve got my eye on someone else.

After Abby puts in an order at the counter, Gwen brings it to the kitchen. Abby gazes around, and when she sees Miguel and me, she wanders over to us, her boots clomping on the tile, her smile open, even as she keeps her hands tucked into the front pocket of her Cherry Valley Community College hoodie.

“How’s it going over at Climax?” she asks.

Miguel answers. “We’re way ahead of schedule. That’s why we have lots of time to harden our arteries at this diner. If my wife only knew how much fat I’m ingesting day by day …”

Abby laughs. “It’s people like you who keep fine Cherry Valley establishments like this in business. The town thanks you and your arteries, Miguel.”

I see an opportunity to mine her for some information — she’s a hotbed of it. “It seems the staff here works extra hard to stay in business.”

“True.” Abby glances back at the counter. Gwen has disappeared into the kitchen. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that the Milton family has had their share of hard times. Audie and the girls work their butts off on a regular basis.”

Audie must be the mom’s name. “And the dad?”

A change comes over Abby. She’s still polite, but it’s as if a curtain’s been drawn over her hazel eyes. “Their dad is out of the picture. He has been for a long time.”

More customers come into the diner, and Gwen emerges from the kitchen to greet them. Because of what Abby obviously won’t tell us about the dad, I’m looking at Gwen and her titanium shield in a different way now. My old man was never around, either, and I too was raised by a single mom. Come to think of it, Audie and Gwen Milton look as tired as Mom always used to while I was growing up.

Yeah, this time when I look at Gwen, it’s not just my body that feels a pull toward her. It’s something … more. I don’t know what the hell it is yet, but damned if I’m not going to find out.