Page 6 of Howling Night

“It’s a small town, honey. We notice new faces.” She tapped her pen against her order pad. “You need a minute?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, opening the menu to an endless array of options. “What do you recommend?”

Sheila tapped her pen to her chin. “Cheeseburger and fries.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said, watching as she scribbled on her pad. “Actually, I was wondering… are you hiring? Or do you happen to know of any places in town that might be?”

Sheila tilted her head. “We’re not, but Black Construction was looking for a receptionist a couple of weeks back. Not sure if they filled the position or not.”

“Excellent,” I said, turning to the window. “And where is that?”

Sheila laughed. “You can find anything here with just a little wandering.”

Boy, was she right about that.

“But it’s just down the street,” she said, pointing out the window with her pen.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, hon. I’ll get your order in.”

When my food arrived, I realized just how hungry I was. The burger was thick and juicy, and the hand-cut fries were crispy perfection. I practically inhaled everything on my plate, barely coming up for air.

I looked up, my eyes meeting with a man two booths over. I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth, hoping I’d be able to remove the redness from my cheeks as well.

“Haven’t eaten all day,” I said, setting the napkin on my empty plate.

“Been there,” he said, smiling. “And they make one hell of a burger here, too.”

I nodded. “You can say that again, but to be fair, I was so hungry that green beans would have tasted good.”

“Ew,” he said, his nose wrinkling. “There isn’t anything they can do to green beans to make them good.”

“Butter?”

“Nope.”

I cocked my brow. “Are you one of those guys who won’t eat vegetables?”

“I’ll eat broccoli,” he said, smiling. “Oh, and carrots, but not if they’re cooked.”

“Picky,” I said, clicking my tongue.

“Indeed,” he said, folding his hands. “You just passing through?”

I shook my head. “I bought what everyone is calling Old Man Harrison’s place.”

“Oh,” he said, head bobbing. “Nice.”

“It’s cozy.”

The man with neatly cut light brown hair smiled again. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and when he smiled, his teeth were perfect and white enough to light the room.

“Where are my manners?” he asked, getting to his feet. He walked over to me and stuck out his hand. “Dean Quinn, the town’s one and only dentist.”

I shook his hand. “Everly Montana.”

“Excellent to meet you,” he said, flashing me his brilliant smile again. “That’s a nice property out there, but the woods can be a bit scary at night. Make sure you keep your doors locked and your shades drawn.”

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