Page 40 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

“No. Thank you.” The man shook his hand, while placing his other one on Mullens’ shoulder. He walked away, saying, “Good memories. Good memories.”

Mullens straightened his spine and tipped his head back with a sigh. At least he’d impressed someone. The town was growing on him, and he’d been around often enough lately that a few faces were becoming familiar. Almost as if this place could become home if he spent more time here.

Determined to maintain what little pride he had left, he vowed to walk back inside without looking at Athena or her date, pay his bill and leave. He opened the door, ignoring the protestations coming from his gut as the scents of garlic, butter and grease hit his nostrils. Immediately someone’s hands pressed against his chest. He glanced down in surprise, expecting Mrs. Fisher. The waitress probably thought he’d been trying to dine and dash. Except for the part about returning to the scene of the crime.

“It’s taken care of. Head home,” Athena said quietly, gently pushing him out onto the sidewalk. He backed up and she followed, crossing her arms against the chill in the evening air. She looked pretty, her hair tumbling to her shoulders, her clingy wool dress wrapping around her body like a lover, her tall dark leather boots hiding what he knew were gorgeous calves.

She was watching him, her eyes darting across his face, looking for clues—probably as to the reason for his asinine behavior.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

She shook her head, a knowing smile softening her features.

“What?” He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth as the scent of onion rings and fries wafted onto the street.

“Go home.” She patted his arm, and he let his eyelids flutter closed.

“No, what do I owe you?” he pressed, knowing she’d understand he meant more than for just the meal.

“Are you all right to drive? Or are you too ill from all that heavy, heavy grease weighing like a rock in your stomach?”

His gut churned again as a rogue wave of indigestion hit him starboard side. “You’re mean.”

“As previously established,” she said perkily. “And I learned it from you.”

“Your date...” He gestured to the man who’d just left the diner. Dressed head to foot in dark beige, including shoes, pants, jacket and even a jaunty corduroy hat, it was like he’d stepped out of a sepia photo from the 1800s.

Athena turned, squeezing the man’s elbow. “So lovely to have met you, Glenn.”

He handed over her purse and jacket while Mullens propped himself up against his car. He’d deal with any scratches he made to the paint later. The two murmured something he couldn’t hear, then her date left in a sedan that rattled with a loose muffler.

Mullens noted the lack of a goodbye kiss. The professor hadn’t even tried.

He would have. Always go for the kiss. Especially with a woman like Athena.

She marched back toward Mullens, wetting her lips. After eyeing him carefully, she spun away again, her boots clipping along the sidewalk. “Hang tight,” she called over her shoulder, before disappearing through a doorway that wasn’t the diner’s.

Curious, he drifted after her, stopping outside a small drugstore to wait. An armadillo waddled out from a narrow space between two buildings and Mullens froze, letting the animal do its thing. But instead of ignoring him, it came closer, sniffing his right foot before looking up at him with dark beady eyes, then ambling off again.

Athena returned moments later, waving a tube of chewable antacids, she tossed them at his chest. He caught them. Mint.

“I just met an armadillo.”

“Bill? Ornery little critter? Gray? About yay high?” She bent down and held her hand about a foot off the ground. “Probably tried to eat your leg off?”

“Nah. Just sniffed my foot and wandered away.” Mullens unrolled a few antacids. “You were fast. Did you even pay for these?”

“Couldn’t have been Bill the armadillo then. Can you get yourself home?”

“Of course.”

She was frowning down the street, where the armadillo was scurrying after a woman. The tall gal in the cowboy hat let out a squeal and jumped into a hardware store at the end of the block. Athena turned back to him, her brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Do you need a barf bucket?”

“I’m fine.” He straightened, realizing he’d been hunching in discomfort. He chewed and swallowed the minty antacids, feeling they might be the all-important one-thing-too-many of the many, many things he’d eaten tonight. All of it getting chummy down in no-man's-land. A fresh wave of nausea was building inside him and he fought against it.

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