Page 11 of The Fire Between Us

His smile softens. "I knew they'd hit it off. Mrs. G has that effect on kids. How are you liking the famous Lou's Diner experience?"

"It's good," I say honestly. "Busy, but the people are nice. Your friends Lewis and Ollis came in earlier."

"Ah," Max winces slightly. "I hope they behaved themselves."

"They were perfect gentlemen," I assure him, though I wonder what he's worried they might have said. "What can I get you for breakfast?"

"The usual," he says, then seems to realize I wouldn't know what that is. "Sorry—three egg-white omelet with spinach and mushrooms, wheat toast, fruit cup instead of hash browns."

I raise an eyebrow as I jot it down. "That's surprisingly healthy for a guy who was extolling the virtues of Lou's cinnamon rolls yesterday."

"Gotta keep fit for the job," he explains, flexing an arm with exaggerated swagger that makes me laugh despite myself. "The occasional cinnamon roll is my one vice."

"Your only vice?" I ask skeptically, then immediately regret the teasing tone. I'm here to serve coffee, not flirt with customers. Especially not this customer.

But Max just grins. "The only one I'll admit to in public."

I feel my cheeks warm again. "I'll put this order in."

As I turn away, he says, "Hey, Jennie?"

I pause, looking back. "Yes?"

"I'm glad it's working out with Mrs. G," he says sincerely. "And that the job's going well. Cedar Falls looks good on you."

The simple compliment catches me off guard. Not about my appearance, not with any hidden agenda—just genuine pleasure at my good fortune. I'm not sure how to respond to kindness that wants nothing in return.

"Thank you," I finally manage. "For everything."

As I move away to attend to the other tables, I feel Max's gaze following me. And despite all my defenses, despite every promise I've made to myself, I can't help the small, warm glow that kindles in my chest.

Cedar Falls might be growing on me after all.

Chapter 4 - Max

I'm not usually a breakfast-after-shift kind of guy. Normally, I head straight home, fall face-first into bed, and resurface somewhere around dinner time. But today, my truck somehow found its way to Lou's Diner without conscious direction from my brain.

Nothing to do with the new waitress, of course. Just hungry after a long night shift.

The lie doesn't even convince me as I watch Jennie move between tables. There's something graceful about her movements. No wasted energy. She's clearly done this work before.

"More coffee, Max?" she asks, returning to the counter with the pot.

"Please," I reply, pushing my mug toward her. "Busy night."

"Anything exciting?" She pours with a steady hand, dark liquid streaming perfectly without a drop spilled.

"Just a medical call around 2 AM. Elderly gentleman with chest pains. Otherwise, paperwork and equipment checks."

"Is he okay? The gentleman?"

I nod, appreciating that her first question is about the patient's welfare. "Looks like indigestion, but they took him in to be safe. His wife was pretty scared."

"That must be one of the harder parts," she observes. "Seeing people at their most vulnerable."

"It is," I agree, surprised by her insight. "But also one of the most meaningful. People trust us on their worst days."

She tilts her head slightly, studying me. "I never thought about it that way."

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