The rest of the afternoon was nonstop, not unlike any other afternoon since the Urbanspoon app had decided to put The Bucksaw Café on the foodie map. As the hours passed, I served more firefighters and hotshot crews, and they all left decent tips, as did the rest of my tables, but I couldn’t shake the bitterness for Taylor, Zeke, Dalton, and Trex.

Fifty-one cents. I should hunt them down and throw the change at them.

The streetlights shone down on those walking past the diner to the two-story country-western bar four buildings down. Young women, most barely twenty-one, trotted along in groups, wearing short skirts and tall boots, as they enjoyed the summer night air—not that August had the corner on skin-baring clothes. Most locals would shed their layers for anything over forty degrees.

I flipped the sign on the door, so the word Closed faced the sidewalk, but I leaped back when a face loomed over me from the other side. It was Taylor, the hotshot crew guy and piss-poor tipper. Before my brain had time to stop my expression, I narrowed my eyes and sneered.

Taylor held out his hands, his voice muffled from the glass. “I know. Hey, I’m sorry. I was going to leave cash, but we were called out, and I forgot. I should have known better than to come into town while we were on call, but I was sick of the food at the hotel.”

I barely recognized him without the seven layers of grime. Wearing clean clothes, he could have been mistaken for someone I might actually find attractive.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, turning for the kitchen.

Taylor pounded on the glass. “Hey! Lady!”

Deliberately slow, I faced him, craning my neck. “Lady?” I nearly spit the word.

Taylor lowered his hands and then shoved them in his pockets. “Just open the door, so I can tip you. You’re making me feel bad.”

“You should!” I spun around in a huff to see Phaedra, Chuck, and Kirby behind me, all far too amused with the situation. “A little help here?”

They all shared the same smug expression, and I rolled my eyes, facing Taylor once again.

“I appreciate the gesture, but we’re closed,” I said.

“Then I’ll tip you double when I come back.”

I dismissively shook my head. “Whatever.”

“Maybe I could, uh … take you out to dinner? Kill two birds with one stone.”

I arched an eyebrow.

Taylor glanced from one side to the other. Passersby were beginning to slow, so they could watch our exchange.

“No, thank you.”

He puffed out a laugh. “You’re acting like I’m a weapons-grade asshole here. I mean, I might be—a little. But you … you’re … distracting.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault you didn’t leave a tip?” I asked, touching my chest.

“Well … kind of,” he said.