Angels Fall

the man Brody order without consulting the menu. When she turned away, Linda-gail shot Recce an exaggeratedly dreamy look. Even as Reece's lips quivered in response, Brody shifted his gaze, locked in on her face.
    The full-on stare made her stomach jump. Even when she quickly averted her eyes she could feel his on her, rudely, deliberately probing. For the first time since she'd begun her shift, she felt exposed and vulnerable.
    She pushed off the stool, stacked her dishes. Fighting the urge to look over her shoulder, she carried them back into the kitchen.
     
    HE ORDERED the elk chops and whiled away the wait time with a bottle of Coors and a paperback. Someone had paid for Emmylou
    Harris on the jukebox, and Brody let the music hum in the back of his mind.
    He wondered about the brunette and that look in her eye. Richard Adams had coined the word tharn in Watership Down . Good word, he thought, and one that suited the new cook with her sudden, frozen stillness.
    From what he knew of Joanie Parks, the brunette wouldn't have a job if she wasn't competent. He suspected Joanie had a soft heart under the shell, but that shell was thick and prickly, and didn't suffer fools.
    Of course, he had only to ask the little blonde and he'd get chapter and verse on the newcomer. But then it would circle around that he'd asked, then others would ask him what he thought, what he knew. He knew how places like Angel's Fist worked, and the fuel of talk they ran on.
    It would take a little longer to find out about her without asking, but there would be murmurs and comments, rumors and speculation. He had a good ear for that sort of thing when he was in the mood for it.
    She had a fragile look about her, the sort that could turn on a dime to brittle. He wondered why.
    Still, from his vantage point he could see he'd been right about competency. She worked steadily, in that professional cook's way that made it seem to him she had an extra pair of hands tucked away somewhere.
    It might have been her first day on the job here, but he'd lay odds it wasn't her first in a restaurant kitchen. Since—at least for now—she was more interesting than his book, he continued to watch her work while he nursed his beer.
    Not attached to anyone from town, he decided. He'd lived there the best part of a year and if anyone's long-lost daughter, sister, niece, third cousin twice removed was due to breeze in, he'd have gotten wind. She didn't look like a drifter to him. More like a runner, he mused. That was what he'd seen in her eyes, the wariness, the readiness to leap and dash at a moment's notice.
    And when she moved to set a finished order in line, those eyes flicked in his direction—just a flick, then away again. Before she turned back to the grill, the door opened, and her gaze shifted there. The smile flashed onto her face so quickly, so unexpectedly, Brody actually blinked.
    Everything about her changed, went lighter, softer, so that he saw there was more—at least the potential for more—than fragile beauty tucked away in there.
    When he looked over to see what had caused that mile-wide smile, he saw Mac Drubber shooting her a grin and a wave.
    Maybe he'd been wrong about that local connection.
    Mac slid into the booth across from him. "How's it going?"
    "Can't complain."
    "Got a hankering to eat something I don't have to fry up myself. What looks good tonight?" He waited a beat, wiggled his eyebrows. "Besides the new cook?"
    "I ordered the chops. Don't see you in here on Saturday nights, Mac. You're a creature of habit, and that's Wednesdays, spaghetti special."
    "Didn't feel like opening a can, and I wanted to see how the girl was doing. Limped into town today with a broken radiator hose."
    All you had to do was wait five minutes or so, Brody thought, and information fell into your lap. "Is that so? "
    "Next thing you know, she's working here. You'd've thought she'd won the lottery by the look on her face. Comes from back East.Boston . Got herself a room at the hotel. Name's Recce Gilmore."
    He stopped when Linda-gail brought Brody's plate to the table.
    "Hi there, Mr. Drubber, how's it going? What can I get you tonight?"
    Mac leaned over to take a closer look at Brody's plate. "That looks pretty damn good."
    "The new cook's a real hand. You let me know how you like those chops, Brody. Get you anything else?"
    "Take another beer."
    "Coming right up. Mr. Drubber?"
    "I'll take a Coke, honey, and the same thing my friend here's having. Those