Read The BFF Bride for Free Online Page B

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.