Page 24 of Matchmaking On The Menu

Luke and Mary have been friends since they were kids, so she knows he can be a grumpy Gus if he doesn’t eat in time.

Mr. Davenport hums thoughtfully. “Sounds like she might have an idea.”

“Wow.” Luke presses a hand to his chest. “This diner used to be a safe space.”

“It stopped being a safe space when you tried fixing the coffee machine with duct tape,” I remind him.

“In my defense, it worked for almost six minutes.”

“Two,” Mr. Davenport mutters.

“Fine, two,” Luke grumbles good-naturedly.

“Excuse me, miss?”

The woman in booth three waves me over, saving me from Luke and Mr. Davenport’s bickering. I swear, they’re like an old married couple most days. She’s wearing a trucker’s cap, but everything else about her, from her perfect eyeliner, sleek leather jacket, to the boots that definitely cost more than my monthly coffee budget, suggests she belongs on a runway instead of behind the wheel of the eighteen-wheeler she drove up in. She looked out of place climbing out of that truck. Up close, even more so. I grab the coffee pot out of habit. “Need a top-up?”

“Oh shit, no.” She laughs, covering her mug. “If I have another cup, I’ll be able to fly my rig, never mind drive it.”

I laugh with her, trying not to stare. She really doesn’t fit the stereotype. Apparently, I’m failing miserably at hiding that thought because she grins.

“You’re not the first person to be surprised by my line of work.”

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine.” She waves a hand. “I didn’t think my life would turn out this way either, but Daddy wanted me to join the business working in his office back home. Keeping it in the family like.”

“And yet here you are.”

“And yet here I am.” She leans back in the booth. “Didn’t want to spend my life stuck in one town staring at spreadsheets, so we came to a compromise. This way I get to see the whole country.”

The guy across from her—another trucker, judging by the grease on his sleeves—grins. “Careful. She’s been judging our fashion choices since Nebraska.”

She flashes him a bright smile. “Hey, I’m just saying not all of us want to live in plaid.”

He clutches his shirt like she just called his kid ugly. “You take that back.”

I laugh again, but her earlier words stick somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.

Didn’t want to spend my life stuck in one town.

My grip tightens slightly on the coffee pot. It must be nice making that kind of decision like it’s yours to make. Not something waiting for you at the dinner table.

Suddenly, the diner feels a little smaller than it did five minutes ago, but I give myself a mental shake before I get mopey.

“If it’s not coffee,” I say, nodding toward her mug, “what can I do you for?”

“I’m new at this,” she says. “And I can’t trust Phil here to give me the right information, so I’m hoping you can help.”

Phil scoffs like a man deeply betrayed by her mistrust.

I blow a loose strand from my face. “Ask away.”

“What’s with all the decorations?” she continues. “Are you all having a festival or something?”

“Yep.” I rest my hand on the back of the booth. “Boudica Springs, Misty Hills, and Mountain Springs combine forces every year to throw one hell of a shindig. This year, we’re even adding a Halloween masquerade.”

Despite how conflicted I am about my life right now, I can hear the pride in my voice as I answer.