know who you are, young man. If I did know where...” Her voice lowered, and she and the gun moved closer. “Why should I tell you?”
“’Cause Tyler’s birthday is coming up and he’s not too happy about his mom missing it.”
“That boy.” She fought a smile, and then, shaking her head, she sobered. “He doing okay?”
“Yeah. Real good.”
“Look here.” She shook the shotgun as if to emphasize her point. “You didn’t hear this from me, but you might want to have yourself a nice big piece of pie at the Half Cup Café, sometime after ten p.m.”
“She workin’ there?”
“I can’t say any more.” The woman glanced around and shook the gun again for good measure. The softened look on her face no longer held the same threat, though. “You give that boy a hug for me, you hear me?” She leaned in for added emphasis.
DJ lifted his hands in surrender, completing her show for whoever she believed was watching. “I’ve got a gift for the dog from Tyler—in my pocket.”
“Reach for it real careful.” She waved with the gun and DJ fought the urge to smile. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag. “Now drop it on the ground.” He got the distinct impression this woman had seen a few too many Westerns in her day. But he’d play along. She’d given him the info he needed.
“Thanks for your time, ma’am.”
She didn’t say any more, but he didn’t hear her move away, either. DJ went back to the truck and climbed in. It wasn’t until he stopped at the end of the street, and glanced in the rearview mirror, that he saw the gun lower. She bent and picked up the bag, stuffing it into her pocket before scurrying back to the front porch. He smiled when he saw the old dog rise up and follow her inside. Tyler would be happy.
But how would Tammie react when she saw him?
Eight hours later he was close to finding out. DJ leaned against the brick wall of a closed thrift store. It was late. Really late. Maybe too late.
Across the street, the Half Cup Café sat like a beacon at the end of the darkened street. None of the other businesses were open at this hour, and the flash of the open-twenty-four-hours neon sign bathed their darkness with flashes of red.
DJ had gone back out to the ranch after talking to Cora. He’d strategized with Wyatt and swapped the truck for his bike and a duffel bag. Parked at the broken curb, the bike took its turns bathing in the flashing lights.
The diner’s glass walls gave him a clear view of the staff and customers inside. The ratty old diner was the last place he wanted to find Tammie. Despite what Cora had told him, he’d hoped somehow that she wouldn’t be here, doing this. So far from her dreams—the dreams she’d told him about all those years ago.
He stood there, watching, waiting and wondering for a long time.
Tammie wasn’t the only waitress working tonight, but DJ focused solely on her. She moved around, swerving between tables, filling a coffee cup here, a water glass there. She’d been working in an ice cream parlor when they’d met—the years of experience since showed in her easy movements.
Otherwise, she looked like hell. The girl he’d spent a sweet week with nine years ago was long gone. A flash of memory brought her back. A bikini and tan lines.
So beautiful and vibrant—a dreamer of big dreams. That was partly what had drawn him to her, what kept her in his memories and what brought her back so vividly when he’d learned about Tyler.
DJ shook his head. Dozens of questions swirled around him in the night as he continued watching her.
Had he been the one who’d broken her dreams? If not, who had?
Lord, they’d been young. He shook his head. Too young to understand the consequences—and too damned stupid.
What had she thought when she’d found out she was pregnant? What would he have done if she had gotten in touch with him back then? He did a little calculating—he would’ve been smack in the middle of boot camp.
An alternate universe of marriage and diapers flashed in his mind. He shuddered. They’d have never made it. He’d have never made it, he amended. She had managed, he begrudgingly admitted, if Tyler was any indication.
He wondered yet again, why hadn’t she contacted him? He’d given her his mom’s address. He remembered the moment clearly, that last night...on the beach...just before they’d...
Frustrated, he shut out the past, reminding himself that she had managed to find the info when she’d wanted to dump Tyler.
His anger returned as he thought of his son. DJ forced himself to stay put, out here in the dark, until the urge to storm in and demand answers passed. He figured, from what Tyler had shared, that she’d probably be skittish. Scaring her half to death would not help matters.
Slowly, DJ headed across the street. His steps measured, his worn combat boots echoed loudly on the dirty pavement.
The glass door opened easily as he stepped inside the light. He timed his entrance for when Tammie went into the back. No one noticed him at first, then the other waitress sauntered over.
“Just one?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
He smirked. She was a flirt. He knew it came with the military haircut and the assumed job, but he couldn’t help wondering if she’d still be as interested once she saw the line of scars down his back. Pulling himself away from those thoughts, he nodded and followed her swaying gait to a booth toward the back.
Outside, he’d watched long enough to know they weren’t working a station system. They were taking turns. Tammie would be his server no matter where he sat. He thought for a minute that he wasn’t really being fair, surprising her at work like this. But then, dumping his kid on Wyatt’s doorstep wasn’t exactly fair, either. Hey, all’s fair in love and war. He just wasn’t sure which he was in right now.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Soda?” Lindsey, according to the little brass bar pinned to her orange uniform, leaned close as she spread the laminated menu out on the scarred tabletop. A picture of strawberry-lemon shortcake covered half the page she’d opened it up to. “Something sweet?”
He nearly groaned at the overly obvious come-on.
“Coffee. Lots of cream.” He picked up the menu and closed it. He doubted he’d be here long enough for anything else.
Frowning, Lindsey straightened and sauntered away, throwing one final glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.
DJ settled in the cracked vinyl seat. From here, he could see everything inside as well as keep an eye on the street beyond the windows.
Considering the hour, the restaurant was busy with half the tables full. An elderly couple sat silently eating, barely looking at each other, much less conversing. At the far end, despite the late hour, a family sat, each of them staring at a phone screen. If he and his siblings had done that as kids, they’d have been texting each other the obnoxious kind of comments that would have earned them a smack from Mom. He smiled
