What she did know was that he hadn’t been in the diner during any of her shifts before, so she wondered what brought him in today. And, since she wasn’t shy, maybe she’d find out.
After pouring half the frappe into a glass, she set it and the frosty, metal mixing cup in front of her customer. Then she pulled a straw from her apron pocket and handed it to him.
“Thank you. I think I’m going to have a salad with grilled chicken and Italian dressing, please.”
“That’s not very adventurous.”
“I’m not an adventurous sort. Especially when it comes to food.”
He said it so seriously, she almost laughed at him. “I’ll give your order to Carl. Luckily, he’s a great cook, but not very adventurous, either. My cousin Gavin cooks for the afternoon and evening crowd and he’s the adventurous one.”
She pinned the order slip in the carousel and yelled for Carl, who was probably sitting at the break table doing word searches, then went back to her customer. “So what brings you in today?”
“I was hungry.”
If there was any hint of sarcasm or hostility in his tone, she would have taken the hint and walked away. But he had simply answered the question asked of him, and she was nosy. “You came to the right place.”
“Made more sense than going to the post office.” She laughed and his expression relaxed a little. “It’s early yet, but the Patriots are looking pretty good this year.”
“I’ve heard that rumor, but I don’t really follow sports at all.”
“Oh.” He actually looked disappointed.
“Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m not very good at small talk.”
Despite her curiosity, she decided to let him off the hook. “Somebody left this week’s paper by the register if you’d rather read.”
“No.” He smiled, and she was struck by how it transformed his face. He had a great smile. “I’d rather talk to you.”
She leaned back against the island where the coffeemaker sat. “What do you like to talk about, Max Crawford?”
*
Max wasn’t surprised the waitress—Tori, according to her name tag—knew his name. Of course she did. That was the way of a small town like Whitford. It also meant she was half-convinced he did mysterious things in his basement. The most popular theory, of course, being that he was a serial killer. The few people he’d talked to about it had yet to explain how they thought he made money from such an endeavor.
“With sports off the table,” he said, “I don’t suppose you’re into trains?”
“Trains?” He wasn’t surprised when she gave him an odd look. He got those a lot. “I don’t really know a lot about trains.”
Of course she didn’t. Not many people did. “It’s a nice day today.”
“Wow, we regressed to the weather pretty quickly.”
He liked the way her eyes crinkled up when she smiled at him. They were a warm brown color, like hot cocoa, and a little lighter than her hair. She wasn’t very tall, but she was nicely curvy and he might have considered asking her if she was in a relationship, but she was also younger than him. He couldn’t guess by how much, exactly, but the difference was noticeable to the eye, so therefore probably significant.
“How about the basics?” she asked, and he braced himself for the probing personal questions. First up would be his job, as always. “So, what do you do for a living?”
“I don’t kill people in my basement.”
She laughed, the sound loud and happy in the empty diner. “I hope you don’t take that personally. It’s just people being silly and bored and, to be honest, it drives everybody crazy not knowing what you do. I think they spread that story hoping you’ll be horrified and feel a need to spill the truth.”
“The story amuses me. Especially the holes in it, such as how I’d pay my mortgage with body parts from my basement freezer.” He lifted an eyebrow. “So why would I tell people what I do and ruin all the fun?”
“You’re my kind of guy, Max.”
Even though he knew it was just an expression and meant she appreciated his sense of humor about the issue, satisfaction that this woman liked him flooded through him and made him sit up a little straighter.
The cook called her name and she went to get his salad. Sucking chocolate frappe through his straw, he watched her walk away. Rather than a seductive sway of the hips, there was a happy, positive bounce to her step that he liked.
Maybe Tori the waitress would be a new friend, even if she didn’t like sports.
A few people came in while he was eating his salad, which made it hard to have further conversation with Tori. There was a married couple in one booth and two guys having lunch at another table, so it didn’t look as if he was going to meet a dateable woman this time.