Page 12 of Rockstar Baby

“Only place open.”

“And here I thought it was my sparkling personality.”

He tapped his long finger on the handle of his knife. “You and your town are very unique. For me, that’s saying something.”

“Oh, and why would that be? Are you special, Rory Ferguson?” It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Beyond the clothes that surely weren’t off the rack, I couldn’t put my finger on just what made the air different around him.

I saw the indecision on his face.

Was he famous? I frowned. An actor, maybe?

I glanced down at his hands and saw the little callouses on the tips of his fingers. No. Unless an actor was suddenly doing something habitual beyond staring at their own face in the mirror.

He tapped his knife again. “Recognize me?”

“No.”

“Refreshing. Not that I’d expect you to unless you have your sights set on something beyond this town. Say in Los Angeles.”

“Definitely not. I have no designs on leaving New York, let alone heading for the other side of the country.”

“Too bad. It’s a big world.”

I shrugged. “I like home. I like sameness. I like knowing what will happen every day.”

“You get strangers in your diner during snowstorms?”

“No, not generally. Takes some doing to find Crescent Cove.”

“Tell me about it.”

I picked up my glass of water and leaned back in the booth to toy with the straw. “GPS failed you?”

“To say the least. My mate told me how to get here.”

The skin along the back of my neck tingled. Mate. Such a simple word, but so alien here. Friend, buddy, teammate—that was the small town life. Football and basketball were gods here. That and the small businesses that made us who we were.

A small town. A safe town.

One made for families.

Not for Rory Fergusons.

“Who’s your friend?”

His blue eyes went a little cool.

I held up my hands. “You don’t have to tell me.” Relief and a little annoyance filled his eyes. “If you want to leave alone anyway.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is that right?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know you from the doorknob over there.”

“Not sure you’d know my friend.”

“So, what’s the deal with you being so cagey?” I started to slide out of the booth. “Look, if answering questions is a problem, then I’m good with just getting your check.”

He reached across the table to close his hand over mine.