She had him take five. He gave back her phone and she scrolled through her camera roll. “Perfect.” She flashed him the photo, her face in profile, her smile bright, her hip cocked, and her legs long and tan. The setting sun cast her in the perfect light. She was golden in the golden hour, and she looked freaking phenomenal. He almost asked her to text him the photo.

Joy tapped the screen, smiling. Dylan heard the text send off.

“Mark?” he couldn’t resist asking.

She looked up from the phone, perplexed. He’d kind of spat her fiancé’s name.

“Yes, why?”

Dylan just shook his head and got back into the car before he said something stupid. He didn’t know what muscle he’d tweaked, but Mark was the knot that suddenly showed up under the shoulder blade and gave a sharp pinch of a reminder it was there whenever he lifted his arm or twisted his torso a certain way. Weird. Dylan didn’t even know the guy. And he didn’t do jealousy, so that couldn’t be it.

Joy scooted the Bug across the highway to the Midpoint Café and Dylan followed her inside. Cooking grease, burned ground beef, and sour milk elbow-struck his olfactory nerve. His stomach recoiled. Takedown. Appetite gone. Not that it had made an appearance today in the first place.

Dylan scanned the joint, because that’s exactly what it was. A time warp of vinyl chairs, chrome, and Formica tables. Route 66 paraphernalia pocked the walls. Elvis Presley crooned from a jukebox in the corner.

“Wow! This place is off the hook,” Joy exclaimed.

More like a Twilight Zone nightmare. He’d fallen asleep only to wake up in a Happy Days episode. Smack him. He wanted to go back to sleep. He yawned and pinched the sleepers from his eyes.

“Judy would have loved this.” Joy sounded wistful. He also caught a shadow of something he didn’t expect to see in her eyes. Regret? Remorse? She turned away to answer the hostess before he could pinpoint what, or ask.

“Two for dinner,” Joy said.

The hostess seated them at a small table in the middle of the dining room and gave them plastic menus. Joy devoured the selection. She cooed over each item. They all sounded delicious.

Dylan put his menu aside. He’d skipped lunch, but the thought of another burger and shake turned over his sour stomach.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Joy asked.

He shook his head. Whatever he dumped into his gut would only come back up. He had another gig in a few hours in Amarillo.

Joy’s bottom lip turned out. “Hmm.” She returned her attention to the menu. Dylan’s, though, remained on Joy.