she had grown up in the diner just as Pam had. Changing things wasn’t easy for her, either. A part of her hated getting rid of things that her father had put in place. But times changed whether you wanted them to or not.
“Dad told us himself that when he took over the diner from his father, he made lots of changes,” she argued, defending the new, still red—but unscarred red—counter and tables.
Pam scowled at her. “That’s not the point.”
Amanda took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee, eggs and bacon. “Then what is the point, Pam? You asked me to come home and help, remember?”
“Help, not take over.”
Okay, maybe she had been a little quick with changes. Maybe she hadn’t taken the time to include her sister in decisions being made. That was her fault and she was willing to take the blame for it. In her defense, Pam had made herself scarce since Amanda got back to town. But, if she mentioned that, it would only start a new argument, so she let it go.
“You’re right,” Amanda said and watched surprise flicker in her sister’s eyes. “I should have talked to you about the menus. About the countertops and tables and I didn’t. I just …” She paused to look around the diner before adding, “I guess I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this place. And when I got home, I just dove right in.”
“I can’t believe you missed the diner,” Pam muttered.
Amanda laughed. “I know. Me, neither. You and I spent so much time working here as kids, who knew that I’d look forward to working here again?”
Pam sighed and leaned against the counter. She shot a frown at Hank, who was still listening in. The old man rolled his eyes and looked away.
“It’s good you’re here,” Pam finally said. “And between the two of us, we should be able to both run the diner and have lives.”
“We will,” Amanda said, smiling a little at the tiny bridge suddenly springing up between the sisters.
“But it is the two of us, Amanda,” Pam told her firmly. “You don’t get to make all the decisions and then let me find out later when the new menus arrive.”
“Absolutely,” she said. “You’re right. I should have talked to you and I will from now on.”
“Good.” Pam nodded. “That’s good. Now, I’m heading out. I’ve got a line on a new supplier of organic vegetables and—”
Amanda smiled and let her mind wander while her sister rattled off information on local farmers. Her gaze slid across the familiar faces filling the diner, then drifted out to the street beyond the wide glass windows. Main Street in Royal. Sidewalks crowded with early shoppers. Cars parked haphazardly along the curb. The sheriff stepping off the sidewalk, headed for the diner.
Sheriff. Headed for the diner.
Amanda’s heart jumped in her chest. Her mouth went dry and her gaze locked on the one man in the world she couldn’t seem to forget.
Nathan knew it was past time to face Amanda.
He left the sheriff’s office with his deputy, Red Hawkins, in charge and stepped out onto Main Street. The morning was clear and promised another red-hot day. Summer in Texas was already off to a blistering start. The sun was a ball of fire looking to combust.
God, he loved it.
Walking down the sidewalk, his boots clattering out a sharp rhythm, Nathan nodded at those he passed and paused to hold a door for Macy Harris as she struggled to carry a baby and cling to her toddler’s hand.
This was his place. Where he belonged. He’d actually had to leave and spend a few years in Houston as a city cop to figure that out. But now that he was back, Nathan knew he’d never leave Royal again. He’d found his place and damned if he was going to let Amanda Altman make him uncomfortable in it.
He loped across the street, dodging the occasional car, and headed straight for the Royal Diner.
The place was a landmark in town. He could remember going there as a kid with his folks and then later, as a teenager, he’d gathered there with his friends after football games and on long, boring summer afternoons.
It was the unofficial heart of town, which meant that at any time during the day, there would be a crowd inside. A crowd that would watch his and Amanda’s first meeting with interest.
“Well, hell,” he muttered as he marched up to the glass door. “Might as well get it done and let the gossips loose.”
He pulled the door open, stepped inside and stopped, letting his gaze slide over the familiar surroundings. Mostly familiar, he corrected silently.
The walls had been painted. No longer a bright white that seemed to sear your eyes on a hot summer day, the walls were now a soft green, dotted with framed photos of Royal through the years. The counter had been changed, too—the old chipped and scarred red was now a shining sweep of a deeper, richer red. The black-and-white checked floors had been polished and the red vinyl booth seats had all been revamped. There were new chairs pulled up to the scatter of tables and sunshine streamed through the windows lining Main Street.
But none of it really mattered to him.
How could it?
He was too focused on the woman standing behind that new counter, staring at him.
Amanda Altman.
Damn. She looked way too good.
Nathan took a breath, forcing air into lungs suddenly starving for sustenance. He hadn’t really expected to feel the rush of heat swamping him. He’d convinced himself he was over her. Had forgotten what it had been like to be with her.
Big mistake.
“Hello, Nathan.”
“Amanda,” he said and ignored the swell of whispers sliding around the room as if carried along by a west Texas wind.
She moved toward the end of the counter, positioning herself behind the cash register. Defensive move?
Oddly enough, that eased him some. Knowing she was no happier about this public meeting than he was took some of the pressure off. In fact, he thought, it sort of tossed the power back into his lap.
She was new here. Okay, yeah, she’d grown up in Royal, just as he had. But Nathan had been here for the last three years and she’d been back in town only a couple of weeks. He’d made his place here and she was still treading water.
With that thought firmly in mind, he walked toward her and noted her chin came up defiantly. Damned if he hadn’t missed that stubborn move of hers.
“Morning, Nathan,” Pam chirped loudly. “We’ve missed you in here lately.”
“Been busy,” he said and ignored Hank Bristow’s snort of derision.
“You want your usual?”
“That’d be good, Pam, thanks,” he said, his
