Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) - J.R. Ward Page 0,16

Like, if you messed up as one of her customers, did she mop the floor with you?

“You want to sit while you wait?” Daniel asked.

“No, I’m good.” She looked up at the billboard of menu items that was bolted to the wall over the soft drink machines, the ice cream coolers, the pie display. “But thanks.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he unrolled his paper napkin, tucked it in his lap, and picked up the burger with fingers that were precisely arranged on the bun. He was methodical about biting and chewing, neat and tidy. Fastidious with the napkin, too, nothing dripping in spite of the fact that there was ketchup involved and things were done medium rare.

He wiped his mouth. “How do you have a usual and not know what it is?”

“Diner amnesia, evidently. On the other hand, it’s going to be a surprise—which at least in theory, I’m going to like.”

“An entree ordered by your subconscious. Cool.”

A moment later, Bessie punched out of the kitchen’s flap door with a steaming plate.

“Here ya go, chicken pot pie, nice and hot.” She put the food next to Daniel Joseph’s burger and grabbed a silverware roll out from under the counter. “You want your Diet Coke, too?”

“Ah …” Lydia cleared her throat.

“Looks like we’re having dinner together,” the WSP’s new groundskeeper said. “Didn’t this just work out, huh.”

BACK TWO YEARS ago, on the first day Lydia had arrived at her new job, Candy had been in charge of her orientation—and not only about the nonprofit. There had been plenty to learn about living in Walters. And the one piece of advice that had held especially true? Everybody in the zip code was related. If not by blood, then by marriage.

So you never said anything bad about anyone because you were talking to their relative. As Candy had said, just like you wouldn’t throw poop at a fan, you didn’t want to run down another person ’cuz the crap would come back on you.

Such a way with metaphors—and there was a corollary to the woman’s Zip It Rule of Walters, New York.

Standing over the plate of steaming food, Lydia glanced up at the server. Bessie was married to Susan, the grocer’s, husband’s brother. Which meant that not only did the women work in the same building and take their breaks together, they also rode into and from work as a twosome.

“I’m so sorry, Bessie, but I have to get home. Would you please put that amazing dinner in a to-go?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. I just thought you’d come to eat with this nice young man—”

“Thanks so much.” Lydia smiled. “And you’re right, I guess I do order a lot of chicken pot pie.”

As Bessie marched back through the flap doors to the kitchen proper, there was an awkward moment. On her side of things.

Daniel just went back to his hamburger. “So I’m guessing word gets around here quick, huh,” he said between mouthfuls.

“Oh, that’s not the reason I’m not …” She glanced at the kitchen’s flap doors. “Okay, fine. So much getting around in this town. You have no idea.”

“And we wouldn’t want your husband jealous.”

“He wouldn’t be—I mean, I don’t have one.” Since when did she get so tongue-tied all the time? “And what about your wife.”

“No wife, no girlfriend. Drifter, remember?”

“I remember.”

Bessie came back out again, a paper bag in her hand. “Here you go.”

“And here’s fifteen. Keep the change.”

“Thanks, Lydia. You’re a big-city tipper, you know that?”

“If that’s my claim to fame, I’ll take it.” She smiled at Daniel in what she hoped was a professional way. Because Bessie’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between them like the woman was reading all kinds of things into all kinds of facial expressions. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Daniel. At work.”

Daniel glanced over and lifted a casual hand. “I’ll be there on time. Even if I have to walk.”

“So where are you staying? Pine Lodge?”

“Yup. That’s the place.”

Lydia frowned. “That’s two miles away.”

“And God gave me two legs, one mile each.”

“I like that attitude.”

“Paul said he’ll bring the bike over when it’s ready. To the Project.”

Lydia opened her mouth to offer him a ride in the morning. But a quick glance at Bessie—who was still enthralled—cut that impulse off. Besides, the Pine Lodge was run by Candy’s sister and brother-in-law, who were Susan and Bessie’s first cousins by marriage.

Too complicated.

“Have a good night,” she said before walking off.

“You, too.”

As she headed for the diner’s exit, she told herself