She took their menus and tried not to feel too self-conscious as she walked away, even though she suspected Mitch might be watching her, if last night was anything to go by. Then again—knowing him, if only by reputation—he might have turned his attention to any one of the other women in the diner.
After pinning their order up in the carousel hung in the pass-through window to the kitchen, Paige made her rounds, checking on customers and refilling coffees and handing out change at the cash register. Every so often she’d catch herself glancing toward the table where the Kowalski brothers sat.
They weren’t doing a lot of talking, other than to the people who occasionally stopped by their table, probably to welcome Mitch home or ask after Josh’s leg. Left to themselves, though, they didn’t seem to have a lot to say, and she wondered if Mitch’s long absences were at the root, or if there was something more specific going on.
When she brought their food to them, they both thanked her, but she didn’t get so much as a smile from Mitch, which was probably for the best. She’d already been far too distracted by him and, as the piece of paper taped to her refrigerator door at home said, men were a luxury and not a necessity.
It had been her new motto in life since the day a lawyer had contacted her to tell her a man she barely remembered had left her a nice bit of money when he died and, as long as she remembered that motto, she’d be just fine.
*
The combination of too much feeling sorry for himself and pain meds took a toll on Josh, so, after breakfast, Mitch drove him back to the lodge. After handing him over to Rosie’s care, Mitch turned around and drove back into town.
Breakfast had been a total bust. His brother had responded to everything he said with a grunt or one or two words, and Mitch didn’t think the diner was the place to shake the crap out of him and demand to know what the hell his problem was. There was time enough for that.
After finding a parking space, Mitch grimaced as he walked through the front door of the Whitford Police Department. Not necessarily because it brought back some of the less fun memories of his youth, but because the first desk he saw was occupied by Officer Robert Durgin.
Bob was older than dirt and blessed with a perfect memory when it came to the population’s youthful indiscretions, especially anything involving the Kowalskis. Ryan had busted his window (accidentally), Liz had broken his grandson’s heart (in as nice a way possible) and Mitch had caused Bob to wreck the department’s shiny new cruiser he’d been so proud of (though it wasn’t Mitch’s fault he was a better driver). Josh and Sean had had their share of run-ins with Bob, too, and the fact they’d all been teenagers at the time didn’t seem to count for much.
Mitch forced himself to smile and nod as he walked by, but Bob just kept staring at him as though he was expecting Mitch to grab the petty-cash box and make a run for it. The old cop was just one of the many reasons that, no matter how glad he was to see Josh and Rosie and a few others, being in Whitford started to chafe after a few days.
People always seemed to think a place where everybody knew your name was a good thing. Maybe it was. But they also knew every damn thing you’d ever done wrong, even stuff you couldn’t remember yourself, thanks to moms sitting around talking about their babies and toddlers. Hell, the first thing the teacher said to him on his first day of school was, “I hope your aim’s gotten better or the janitor’s going to lock you out of the bathroom.”
Everything from potty-training mishaps to late-night teenage joyrides were fair game in a town like Whitford, and that’s why, no matter how happy he was to be back in his hometown, he was always happier when it was time to leave. In this town, Mitch Kowalski wasn’t the man behind one of the most successful controlled-demolition firms in the country. Hell, maybe even in the world. Here he was just one of those damn Kowalski kids.
Through the big window in his office, Police Chief Drew Miller saw him coming and waved him in. Mitch grinned as he closed the door behind him, meeting his best friend halfway for a handshake that become a quick man-hug.
“It’s damn good to see you,” Drew said as he sank back into his fancy leather chair.
Mitch tried to make himself comfortable on the hard, wooden chair on the other side of the desk. “Chief, huh? What the hell were they thinking?”
“They were thinking you’d come back eventually, so they’d better have somebody in charge who can keep your sorry ass in line.”
Mitch snorted. “You know what pisses me off? Old Bob’s out there glaring at me like I’m a pillager come to plunder his doughnut box, but they made you chief of police. You were in the car that night, too.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t driving. I told him I was a helpless passenger who was too afraid to jump out, but kept screaming at you to stop the car.”
“You’re so full of shit.”