She discarded the stale saltine. Even though it was Monday night, three-quarters of the tables were full, and most of the occupants were studying her. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. “This seems like a big crowd for a Monday.”

“No place else to go. On Monday nights it’s either the Barn Grill or Bible study at Second Baptist. Or maybe Tuesday is Second Baptist. The Bible study schedule in this town is more complicated than the Stars’ offensive line stunts.”

“You like it here, don’t you? Not just the farm. Small town life.”

“It’s different.”

The waitress appeared with the menus. Her thin, sour face immediately twisted into a simpy smile for Dean. “My name’s Marie, and I’ll be your server tonight.”

Blue wished somebody would pass a law that made it illegal for a person who worked in a place with Tabasco bottles on the table to introduce herself.

“Real nice to meet you, Marie,” Redneck Dean drawled. “What’s good tonight?”

Marie ignored Blue to recite the specials just for him. Dean settled on the barbecue chicken with a side salad. Blue chose the fried catfish, along with something called “dirty potatoes,” which proved to be a concoction of mashed potatoes, sour cream, and mushrooms smothered in gravy. While she lapped it up, Dean ate his chicken without the skin, added only a small pat of butter to his baked potato, and refused dessert, all the time chatting amiably with the assorted townspeople who interrupted his meal. He introduced her to everyone as his fiancée. When they finally had a moment alone, she addressed him over a big, gooey serving of mud pie. “How are you going to explain our broken engagement after I leave?”

“I’m not. As far as this town’s concerned, I’m staying engaged until there’s a good reason for me not to be engaged.”

“Which will be the minute a breathtakingly gorgeous, incredibly stacked, and marginally intelligent twenty-year-old catches your eye.”

He stared at her dessert. “Where are you putting all that food?”

“I haven’t eaten since breakfast. No funny stuff, Dean. I mean it. You can’t break off our engagement by giving me a fatal disease or saying you caught me with another man. Or a woman,” she added quickly. “Promise me.”

“Just out of purely salacious curiosity, have you ever been with a woman?”

“Stop screwing around. I want your word.”

“Okay, I’ll say you dumped me.”

“Like anybody’s going to believe that.” She scooped up another bite of mud pie. “So has it ever happened to you?”

“What? Being dumped? Sure.”

“When?”

“Sometime. I don’t remember exactly.”

“Never. I’ll bet you’ve never once been dumped.”

“Sure I have. I’m pretty sure.” He sipped his beer and thought it over. “I remember. Annabelle dumped me.”

“Your agent’s wife? I thought you said you never dated her.”