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It still blew her mind that Hawk and Cannon had volunteered to work at Leena’s on Wednesdays when they knew it was busiest. Cannon told her it was so they could be near her. Believable. Most nights when she worked, he and Hawk monopolized one of the front tables all night, working on their laptops and watching out for her. When the diner was bursting at the seams with customers, they had to give up their seats.
So they’d learned to make the chicken-fried special.
She went to the eat-in line, intending to alternate between the two groups while Xana and Leena ran the tables.
“Hugh,” she said with a nod to the tall man. “Just you tonight?”
She knew Hugh Redder was alone. He always was. The guy was a bit of a mystery, really. But in the Daly fashion, everyone let him be. He wasn’t one of the cowboys nor someone who worked one of the businesses in town. He didn’t seem to have any friends or want any, either. Hugh was definitely a loner, and she knew nothing about him, other than he ate here every night and used to hang out at the Bowen Bar when she’d worked there—before Leena’s husbands had discovered Dev was a woman and ousted her. Unfair, if you asked her.
Hugh dipped his chin in a single nod. As she’d suspected, it was alone.
“We’re seating overflow over on the bar side,” she told him. When chicken fried night had gotten so popular, Leena’s husbands had installed a door between their bar and the restaurant. On Wednesdays only, it was unlocked. Guests and the few waitstaff could go through the diner’s tiny convenience store to get to the secondary seating.
If you asked Dev, that side was nicer, with better ambiance. That was where she’d choose to eat.
She waved her hand that way, indicating for him to follow her through the little store—a small-scale gift shop, like a Cracker Barrel, only without the gadgets and artsy-craftsy items. Instead, visitors could pick up snacks, soft drinks, over-the-counter meds and even condoms. There were other things, but basic essentials comprised most of the sales.
“I’d prefer to sit over here,” Hugh declined, digging in his heels. He nodded toward the counter stools. “Over there. I’ll wait for an opening.”
Not even waiting for a reply, he moved to the side and leaned his shoulder against one of the tall posts positioned behind the booth closest to the door.
“Okay,” she muttered, dragging out the word. He was such an odd duck.
His eyes seemed to stay pinned on her, but she ignored him as she turned to the guys who’d waited behind him. In a town this small, she knew most everyone, even with the influx of new people moving into the new subdivision on the east side of their little berg. Like Curly, this group of men worked over at the Flying D Ranch, the largest of the area’s ranches.
“Four of you?” she said. “Right this way.”
Moments later, she got them seated. “Leena will be right over for your drinks. Are you having the special or something else?”
“The special for all of us,” one of them answered. She nodded and wrote the order and table number on the paper slip she’d hand over to the kitchen.
“All the special,” she reported to Leena when they passed as Dev headed back to the main room.
“Thanks, Dev.”
Giving a chin lift, she dropped off the order then returned to the lines, so they could seat as many people as possible or get them back out the door with to-go food. When all the tables were full, she’d work in the kitchen and help until all the takeout and in-house orders were distributed, at which point, she’d probably need to bus tables then seat more guests.
Such was the never-ending rotation on Wednesdays. Busy.
She loved it. The rowdy family-reunion atmosphere, as so many townspeople came together, never failed to make her smile. It was so hectic she didn’t have time to think of anything but the work at hand.
She didn’t love how Hugh seemed to eye her, but he’d been doing that for years. Watching; doing nothing.
It was just how things were. And she didn’t need to worry. She had a roomful of protectors.
Five
Hawk hated Wednesday nights. It wasn’t because of the work. He actually enjoyed his weekly stint at Leena’s Diner, where the frantic pace reminded him of manning the grill at a big community barbecue.
No, he despised it because he didn’t feel in control of keeping Devon safe. All evening, she was out in the main room, flitting in and out of his sightline, while he and Cannon were trapped back behind the partial wall that separated the kitchen from the dining area.
“Beware, you’re letting the stinky walking dead into your truck,” Dev warned when Cannon opened the pickup’s door for her and boosted her inside. As usual, she’d sit between him and Hawk since she was smallest. The truck had a backseat, but Hawk made a point of making sure there was a bunch of ranch crap back there, so she couldn’t use it.
“You smell like flowers, just like always,” Cannon replied.
“Liar.”
He laughed then left the door hanging open for Hawk as he circled to the driver’s side.
