This was what he liked about living in a small town. After traversing the globe in a mostly invisible capacity with the SEALs, and then serving as a cog in the big, often impersonal machine of the NYPD, he appreciated being greeted by name and having a “usual” order at the local diner. That sense of community connected him in a way he hadn’t fully realized he needed when he’d accepted the job in Bluelick.
“Table for two, Addy.”
“Sure thing.” She picked up menus and stepped out from behind the stand. “Follow me.”
Her smooth, ginger-honey hair brushed her shoulders as she led them past a few tables of early dinner customers. He nodded to old Mr. Cranston and downright ancient Ms. Van Hendler, who sat on the same side of a booth working their way through coffee and pie. Grady Landry from the credit union and Ed Pinkerton from the hardware store looked up as they passed. Everyone’s reactions matched, to a person. They smiled at him, and then those smiles gave way to unvarnished curiosity as Roxy stole their attention. Between the streaked hair, tattoos, and I’m-with-the-band ensemble, she collected more than one double take. This part of small-town living—the everybody-up-in-everybody’s-business part—he was still getting used to.
Addy stopped beside a window booth. “How’s this?”
“Works for me.” He gestured for Roxy to have a seat and then slid into the booth opposite her.
“I’ll bring a sweet tea for you, seeing as how you’re on duty.” Addy aimed her friendly smile at Roxy. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just water, thanks.”
“Bring her an OJ.”
Turquoise eyes narrowed on him. “I don’t like orange juice.”
“I don’t like you passing out.”
“I had the protein bar—”
“You know,” Addy interjected, “we’ve got a fresh batch of our world-famous lemonade. It’s my grandma DeShay’s secret recipe, and I can tell you there’s nothing like it on a hot summer evening.”
“Sounds lovely.” Roxy maintained her stare-off with West for one more second before gracing Addy with a determined smile. “Does Grandma DeShay’s secret recipe involve a stiff shot of vodka?”
Addy laughed. “Not our version, as we’re beer and wine only. I can’t vouch for how Granny preferred it.”
Before he could disabuse her of the idea of pouring any sort of alcohol into her all but empty stomach, Roxy looked over at him and rolled her eyes. “Relax, Officer. It was a joke. I don’t drink.”
“You limit your vices to smoking and hitchhiking?”
Addy interceded by opening the menu and pointing to the lower half of one side. “Everything’s good, but since I’m partial to Grandma DeShay’s recipes, I like to point out the house specialties. Take a look and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be back with your drinks in a flash.” Another friendly smile and she left.
He waited while Roxy perused the menu. Not quite true. He watched her. First, she cupped a hand to the nape of her neck and tipped her head to one side, and then the other, before trailing her fingers down the silver chain to fiddle with the guitar pick dangling between her breasts—a place he ought not focus on. He tore his attention away and glanced around the diner. Everybody else in the place stared at his tablemate. Oblivious, she closed her menu and looked out the window.
“So, Roxy, what brings you to Bluelick?”
His question lured her gaze back to him. “Family.”
Total surprise. He wouldn’t have pegged her as a local, especially since she didn’t know better than to try and walk all the way from Millersville, but he liked the idea of her visit to his little corner of the world having a specific purpose—and preferably a near-term end date. “You’re from the area?”
“No. This is my first visit, but my mom grew up in Bluelick, and my grandmother still lives here.” Uncertainty pulled the corners of her mouth down. “At least, I think she does.” She looked at him. “Lillian Belle?”
“No clue, but I’m fairly new to the area. I don’t know everyone. Addy does,” he added as she returned with their drinks.
“I do what?”
“Know everyone in town. Roxy’s looking for her grandmother.”
Addy eyed her, and he could tell she was trying to place the genes. Apparently, she came up blank. “Who’s your grandma?”
“Lillian Belle. The address I have for her is… What’s wrong?”
Shaking her head, Addy slid into the booth next to West and fixed her soft gaze on Roxy. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but Mrs. Lillian passed. It happened…gosh, about six months ago.”
“Oh.”
Roxy looked crestfallen, and West fumbled for a proper expression of condolence.
Addy’s manners weren’t as rusty. “I’m so sorry. I take it you two hadn’t spoken in a while?” She reached across the table and patted Roxy’s hand.
“We never spoke. Never even met,” Roxy added. “The way my parents told it, Lillian disowned my mom when Mom eloped with my dad and stuck to her guns about the decision, even though she had no other family.”
Addy nodded. “That’s the way I understand it. Your mama should have gotten a notice when Lillian died. A local law firm handled the estate. I can’t believe they would have dropped the ball.”
“I’m sure they didn’t drop the ball. It’s probably fairer to say it hit a dead end.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. Nor did he like how she blinked rapidly before lowering her eyes to the menu lying on the table in front of her. Or how small and alone she looked sitting on the other side of the booth. “Define ‘dead end.’”
“My parents were killed in a car crash three years ago.”
Orphaned at nineteen. Christ. A very tough blow, at a very tender age. Had there been other family to turn to besides an estranged grandmother she’d never met?
“Oh, Roxy. I am truly sorry.” Addy squeezed her hand now, displaying another of the small-town traits West was coming
