Allison Leigh - The Bff Bride

“He’d argue that,” he said and nearly yanked back his hand from Sam’s.

“Sam’s one of Max’s deputies,” Tabby told him. “Like Sloan.”

“Well, I wear a badge like Sloan,” Sam allowed wryly. “But nobody calls me their boss like they do Sloan.” She picked up the box of rolls. “Still warm. Wonder if Ruiz will mind if one is missing before I get them to him?”

“I’d like to see the day when you actually indulge yourself for once,” Tabby challenged.

“Oh, I indulge.” Sam’s gaze sparkled as she glanced at Justin on her way toward the door.

“With a sweet roll,” Tabby called after her.

Sam just laughed and sketched a wave as she left.

“Heard there was a lady deputy now,” Justin said when the sound of the bell over the door faded. “She still the only one?”

“Max has been trying to recruit more women.” Tabby picked up a rag and started needlessly polishing the counter. “It’s hard. Small-town USA is bad enough. Small town in the middle of Wyoming—where the tumbleweeds often outnumber the residents—isn’t the life for everyone.” Her fingers clenched around the rag as she rubbed harder. “Not even when you’re born and raised in it. You ought to know that better than anyone.” He was the perfect example of getting out, after all. “So what’s this big project you’re doing? Curing the common cold?”

“Nothing that profitable. Just an R&D project that should’ve been wrapped up already, but—”

There was a loud bang from the back of the diner, followed by, “Yo, yo, yo!”

Justin shoved his fingers through his hair, looking impatient. “Now what?”

“Bubba,” Tabby said evenly. “If you want peace and quiet, Ruby’s Café isn’t the place to find it. Why do you think those profit checks you get have a decent number of zeros at the end? Not that you probably notice them much, anyway, with your gigantic pharmaceutical salary.” She pushed through the swinging door to greet her cook. “Morning, Bubba.”

“Hey, girl.” Bubba Bumble had a gentle soul that he hid behind a lumbering, rough-looking, hard-talking exterior. “Figured you’d have the hash browns going already.” He was wrapping a white apron over his white T-shirt and slouchy, black-and-white-striped pants. Next came a pristine red-and-black bandanna that he wrapped over his forehead and tied in the back over his neatly shaved salt-and-pepper hair.

“Sorry. I got—” Distracted by Justin. “Busy,” she said instead.

Bubba grunted and grabbed a knife to start peeling potatoes. Leaving him to it, she went back out front. The regular waitresses would begin arriving any minute, but until they did, she was on deck. Once they were there, though, she’d spend most of her morning in the kitchen with Bubba. She could man the grill when she had to, but he was the cook. She took care of the baking—he didn’t like the ancient oven Tabby still used—and did the books and serving or kitchen prep when the load was heavy. And considering the pool tournament being held down the street, she was crossing her fingers for a heavy day.

She topped up Justin’s coffee again without waiting for him to ask and began restocking the rack that held individual boxes of cold cereal.

“Does anyone still order those things?”

“Absolutely.” She gave the rack a whirl. “Or did you think these were the same boxes of Fruity Twirls that were here when your great-grandma ran the place?”

He ignored her sarcasm.

“Since you’re here, you might as well eat. Biscuits and gravy? Pancakes? Or have your tastes gotten fancier along with your running clothes?”

“If they had, I wouldn’t be sitting on this stool,” he replied with such an even tone that she felt guilty. “What’s the special?”

She kept a small chalkboard propped on a shelf behind the counter where she listed the daily specials. But she hadn’t gotten to writing them out yet today, and the board was still wiped clean, the way she’d left it two days earlier.

“Bubba,” she called without looking behind her toward the pass-through window to the kitchen. “What’s the special this morning?”

“Turkey hash,” he yelled back. “Turkey noodle soup and salad this afternoon.”

She retrieved the board and chalk and wrote everything out. She’d just set the board back in place when the front door opened and a couple she didn’t know came in. They were both carrying long, distinctive cases. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Looks like you’re in town for the tournament. Sit anywhere you like. I’ll be right over with menus.” Without waiting a beat, she looked at Justin again. “So? What’ll you have?”

“Scrambled eggs and wheat toast.”

He liked eggs now? Withholding comment, she turned and leaned closer to the pass-through. “Scrambled eggs and wheat for Justin, Bubba.”

Her cook looked up from the growing mountain of potatoes he’d shredded. “Justin’s here?” He immediately set down his knife and crossed the kitchen to look through the pass-through. “Justin! How’s life treating you, man?”

“It’s good, Bubba. You?”

Ignoring their conversation, Tabby carried two waters and menus over to the couple, who’d chosen a booth in the corner. “I’m Tabby. Can I get you coffee or anything else besides water while you have a chance to look over the menu?”

“Bloody Mary?” The young woman looked hopeful.

Tabby smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. No alcohol here. Colbys will be able to accommodate you on that, though, if you have your heart set. You’ll get a good breakfast there, too. Not as good as here—” she gave a quick wink “—but good all the same.”

“I suppose I can live without one.” The girl propped her chin on her hand. “What about you, honey?”

“Coffee’s good for me. And one of those pecan cinnamon rolls that I keep hearing about.” The man flipped open the menu.

“Oh, me, too.” The girl’s expression brightened. “And cream for my coffee if you’ve got it. It’s a holiday weekend. If I can’t splurge on a Bloody Mary just yet, I’ll splurge on that.”

Tabby’s smile turned into a grin. “Coming right up.” Infinitely comfortable with this particular role, she returned to the counter area, prepared a little white jug of cold cream, plated up two warm rolls and returned with them, along with the coffeepot, to the table. While she was serving the couple, the door jingled again, and two more parties of two came in. Everyone had pool cue cases.

She hid her delight and called out another cheerful “Good morning.”

She’d just gotten them situated with menus and drinks when Bubba called out that an order was up, and she went back to grab Justin’s plate. Which also had a side of biscuits and gravy.

Bubba figured he knew Justin pretty well, too, obviously.

Tabby set his plate in front of him, and Justin eyed the fat, fluffy biscuit that was mounded over with golden-brown gravy studded with chunks of sausage. She reached below the counter and came up with a bottle of hot sauce. She was tempted to hold it out of his reach, but she set it in front of him. “Anything else I can get for you?” She lifted her eyebrows, waiting. “More coffee?”

“No coffee. But there is something else.” He hesitated a moment, then suddenly dumped the biscuit and gravy on top of the eggs, completely hiding them, and grabbed the hot sauce.

She hid a smile as she pivoted on her heel to grab an order that Bubba set on the pass-through. “More gravy?”

“The key to the empty unit you’ve still got at the triplex,” he said. “I want to rent it.”

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