her car. Declan had promised Bess he’d bring dessert, and he thought one of Mel’s lemon meringue pies would be just the thing. So he’d called earlier today, and Mel promised to have one ready for him.
Steeling himself, he pushed open the car door. The wind immediately wrenched it out of his hand. When he stepped out, the wind practically blew him over. It took him a few long seconds to wrestle the car door shut again. Then he hurried over to the diner entrance, his unzipped jacket snapping in the wind.
The bell above the door jangled as he pushed through. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and smooth down his hair. Man, that wind got fierce.
Only a few of the tables were taken, and a few of the stools. Mel’s was usually busier at this time. Everyone’s probably home getting ready for the storm.
Mel appeared from the kitchen, pushing through the doors behind the counter, a plate balanced in each hand. Catching sight of Declan, he smiled. “Hey, Declan. How you doing?”
Mel was pushing sixty and had owned the diner for the last thirty years. He was about five ten and had a strong build—a remnant of his Navy days. He used to keep his hair cut close, too, but nature had taken care of that for him now. His bald head gleamed in the diner’s bright lights.
Declan walked over and took a seat at the counter. “I’m good.”
Mel dropped off the plate farther down the counter before coming back to stand in front of Declan.
“How are you doing, Mel?” Declan asked.
Mel shrugged, picking up the coffee pot from the burner behind the counter. “Can’t complain. We were pretty busy for most of the day, although it’s slacked off some. Coffee?”
Declan nodded, flipping over the cup in front of him. Mel filled it up. Declan smiled as the smell reached him.
Mel replaced the coffee pot back on the burner. “I’ll grab that pie for you as soon as I get these orders out.”
Declan took a sip and sighed, feeling the warmth course through him. The storm had brought a big dip in the temperature, and Declan hadn’t been prepared for it. “Take your time. I’m enjoying my coffee.”
“It’ll be just a few.” Mel hustled back into the kitchen.
Declan looked back out the window. Did the bridge just move? He narrowed his eyes and stared before shaking his head. Must be the storm playing tricks with my eyes. He took another sip. Well, at least Steve’s first day went well. When he’d spoken with Bess, she’d made it sound like everything was perfect. And while Declan seriously doubted that raging optimism, it did mean there probably hadn’t been any huge issues.
He felt a little weight lift off his shoulders at the thought. He knew Steve was a man, but Declan just wanted his transition to be as bump-free as possible.
The bell above the door jangled again. Russ pushed through, stopping in the entryway to look around. Catching sight of Declan, he nodded with a smile and headed over.
Declan returned the smile, inwardly shaking his head. Russ never seemed to understand that town cops and state cops were supposed to butt heads. Declan had asked Russ about it one day, and Russ had looked completely confused. “Why would I do that? You’re trying to help and I’m trying to help. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”
Not for the first time, Declan hoped that Russ would consider running for Chief sometime in the near future. The town could use some of his open-mindedness.
Russ took a seat next to him. Declan took one look at him and reached over the counter for the coffee pot. Russ flipped over the cup in front of him.
Declan poured him a cup. “You look like you could use it.”
Russ poured a small mountain of sugar in it and added a dash of milk. He took a sip with a grimace. “God, I hate coffee.”
Declan let out a laugh. “So why do you drink it?”
Russ shrugged. “I’m a cop. I’m pretty sure we’re required to drink it.”
“How’s it going?”
Russ shook his
Steeling himself, he pushed open the car door. The wind immediately wrenched it out of his hand. When he stepped out, the wind practically blew him over. It took him a few long seconds to wrestle the car door shut again. Then he hurried over to the diner entrance, his unzipped jacket snapping in the wind.
The bell above the door jangled as he pushed through. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and smooth down his hair. Man, that wind got fierce.
Only a few of the tables were taken, and a few of the stools. Mel’s was usually busier at this time. Everyone’s probably home getting ready for the storm.
Mel appeared from the kitchen, pushing through the doors behind the counter, a plate balanced in each hand. Catching sight of Declan, he smiled. “Hey, Declan. How you doing?”
Mel was pushing sixty and had owned the diner for the last thirty years. He was about five ten and had a strong build—a remnant of his Navy days. He used to keep his hair cut close, too, but nature had taken care of that for him now. His bald head gleamed in the diner’s bright lights.
Declan walked over and took a seat at the counter. “I’m good.”
Mel dropped off the plate farther down the counter before coming back to stand in front of Declan.
“How are you doing, Mel?” Declan asked.
Mel shrugged, picking up the coffee pot from the burner behind the counter. “Can’t complain. We were pretty busy for most of the day, although it’s slacked off some. Coffee?”
Declan nodded, flipping over the cup in front of him. Mel filled it up. Declan smiled as the smell reached him.
Mel replaced the coffee pot back on the burner. “I’ll grab that pie for you as soon as I get these orders out.”
Declan took a sip and sighed, feeling the warmth course through him. The storm had brought a big dip in the temperature, and Declan hadn’t been prepared for it. “Take your time. I’m enjoying my coffee.”
“It’ll be just a few.” Mel hustled back into the kitchen.
Declan looked back out the window. Did the bridge just move? He narrowed his eyes and stared before shaking his head. Must be the storm playing tricks with my eyes. He took another sip. Well, at least Steve’s first day went well. When he’d spoken with Bess, she’d made it sound like everything was perfect. And while Declan seriously doubted that raging optimism, it did mean there probably hadn’t been any huge issues.
He felt a little weight lift off his shoulders at the thought. He knew Steve was a man, but Declan just wanted his transition to be as bump-free as possible.
The bell above the door jangled again. Russ pushed through, stopping in the entryway to look around. Catching sight of Declan, he nodded with a smile and headed over.
Declan returned the smile, inwardly shaking his head. Russ never seemed to understand that town cops and state cops were supposed to butt heads. Declan had asked Russ about it one day, and Russ had looked completely confused. “Why would I do that? You’re trying to help and I’m trying to help. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters.”
Not for the first time, Declan hoped that Russ would consider running for Chief sometime in the near future. The town could use some of his open-mindedness.
Russ took a seat next to him. Declan took one look at him and reached over the counter for the coffee pot. Russ flipped over the cup in front of him.
Declan poured him a cup. “You look like you could use it.”
Russ poured a small mountain of sugar in it and added a dash of milk. He took a sip with a grimace. “God, I hate coffee.”
Declan let out a laugh. “So why do you drink it?”
Russ shrugged. “I’m a cop. I’m pretty sure we’re required to drink it.”
“How’s it going?”
Russ shook his
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