Rick opened the door to Betsy’s Diner, and the familiar smell of grilling meat, fresh bread, and coffee greeted him. He led the way to a booth against the wall and instinctively slid into the seat across from Cynthia with his back to the wall and a view of the entrance.

He gazed at her, amazed she’d come. When he hadn’t heard back from her in a few days, he assumed she had thought better of the idea and decided she didn’t want to see him again. He’d spent the entire day driving home feeling sorry for himself, analyzing their last conversation over and over to see where he had gone off track.

Kissing her had come so naturally. Before he’d realized it, his lips were on hers. If he could freeze that moment in time, he would. He probably should feel at least slightly embarrassed for kissing her in front of his dad like that, but quite frankly, the emotions that overwhelmed him right now left no room for embarrassment.

“If you enjoy a good diner, this place needs to be on your map,” he said, pulling a menu out of the stand and handing it to her. He didn’t need it. He knew what he wanted.

While she read the menu, he studied her. He could see the fatigue on her face, but it did nothing to detract from her beauty. She must have felt his stare, because she glanced up at him and a blush covered her cheeks. He thought again about their first kiss and wanted to reach across the table just to touch her. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

She smiled and reached for his hand. He easily placed it in both of hers. “Me too.”

“Well, if it ain’t the prodigal,” Betsy said from beside the table.

Rick glanced at her and smiled. The townspeople of Charula considered Betsy as much an establishment as her diner. At seventy, if she didn’t dye her hair with cheap black dye, it would be snow-white. She was five feet one, skinny, and wore heeled boots and bright-red lipstick.

“I got in yesterday. Came here as soon as I could and brought a friend.”

She screwed her face up into what passed as a smile. “If you got here yesterday, you did not get here as soon as you could. I reckon you were waiting on your lovely friend to arrive.” She looked in Cynthia’s direction. “And you are a genuine beauty. I’m certain there’s a story there.”

He released Cynthia’s hand as he chuckled, then remembered something. “Hey, Betsy, do you know Timothy Waller? His parents have a farm out off 15. His wife was an EMT here. Did search and rescue too.”