Page 10 of The Bluffing Game

But then the man steps forward, and I realize that it is not the handsome man from the night before. Of course he wouldn’t be here. I’m totally losing my mind.

“What did you say?” Rosie moves toward the entrance like a princess would move through a muddy field.

Her expression shows she’s not impressed with our new home. Not only does it not look good, but it smells as well.

Squaring my shoulders, I step in front of her and nod at the man as he passes us. On closer inspection, this man has zero facial characteristics to match the delicious specimen I met the night before. He nods back with a disinterested expression, and I walk into the office, hopeful that I can get the keys as quickly as possible and go on my way.

“We could have looked around a little longer.” Rosie licks her lips as she finishes her stack of pancakes.

There’s a small trace of maple syrup on the side of her mouth, and I’m about to tell her when our perky waitress drops back by the table.

“How’d you like the food, girls?” She seems genuinely interested to know.

I’m happily surprised by how congenial and friendly she’s being. I look at her name tag again; it reads Izzy, which suits her. She looks like an Izzy, with her long blond hair, big blue eyes, and curvy figure.

“Just great. Thanks, Izzy. Best omelet I’ve had in a while.”

“We do aim to please at Eggy Things. Chef makes the best omelets in town. And I’m not even paid to say that.” She pauses and wrinkles her nose. “Well, not well paid.” She slaps her fingers to her mouth. “Oops, ignore me.”

“No worries.” I laugh loudly at her expression.

Izzy could be a comedian or an actress with all the expressions crossing her face.

“We’re new in town, and I’m glad we’ve found a good breakfast place that won’t break the bank.”

“Oh, you’re new?” Her eyes widen, and she smiles. “That’s awesome. Welcome to Santa Capinari. It’s pretty sweet here. Kinda expensive, but still awesome. I grew up here. How old are you girls?” She pauses. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask that.” She looks over her shoulder to the kitchen. “We’re not supposed to ask personal questions. I was just wondering ’cause you both look to be around my age, and if so, I was going to say we should hang out or something. Or wait, is that weird?”

“We love weird.” Rosie drains the last of her latte from her glass and offers Izzy a warm smile. “We’re weird. And we would love to make new friends. I’m twenty-two, and Sage is twenty-four, but we’re not ageist. We’re friends with anyone. Well, maybe not teenagers. That would be creepy, but in our last town, I had a friend Mildred, and she was seventy-five. Loved her. She had more energy than me.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m seventy-five.” Izzy surprises me by sliding into the booth, next to Rosie.

The diner looks quite busy, and she’s one of only two servers I see working this morning, but I decide not to say anything. I keep my eyes averted from the other customers because I can see one man sitting at a table near the door, who keeps darting glances at Izzy, looking pissed. I wonder if he’s waiting to order or waiting for his food. Either way, he doesn’t seem happy to see her chitchatting with us.

“I’m twenty-five, and so is my best friend, Lucia, who you’ll love. We should all go for drinks tonight, if you’re free.”

“Um, we are, but …” My voice trails off. I want to make friends—I do—but money is tight. Too tight to be spending on alcohol willy-nilly. “The drinks in town seem expensive.” I look down at the top of the table, embarrassed. I grab the salt and pepper shakers and move them back toward the other condiments.

“What my sister is trying to say is, we’d love to hang out, but maybe not at a bar. Not yet. Not until we have jobs and potential hus …” Her voice gradually drops to silence as I give her a look.

Izzy seems nice and nonjudgmental, but I don’t need her knowing we came to town to find billionaire boyfriends. I know exactly how that would sound to the average person.

“Incomes,” she adds quickly, and Izzy nods in understanding.

“It is so expensive here.” She leans forward. “I may know of some jobs if you need them. If you don’t mind waitressing?”

“Here?” I ask, wondering if she owns the diner. It would make more sense as to why she’s sitting down on the job and gabbing with strangers.

“Oh, no, not here. Where Lucia works—Mama’s Kitchen. It’s a cute waterfront restaurant that her brother owns, and she kinda runs.” She grins at us. “They just had some staff quit, so I know they’re hiring. I can call her and tell her you’re coming over, if you want. I work there sometimes as well, but only a few shifts a week.”

“Doesn’t she need to interview us first?” I ask, though I’m grateful to Izzy for looking out for us. I’m not sure I’ve met anyone as friendly as her in a while.

“Not at all. She’s desperate for staff, and if I vouch for you, the job is yours. She knows I have a keen sense of who’s good and who’s bad. And I can tell you’re both good eggs.”

“Aw, thanks.” Rosie looks exhilarated by the compliment. “You’ve earned a fifty percent tip today, Izzy.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Izzy pauses when the bell above the door rings. We all look back at a snooty redhead who walks into the diner and calls out Izzy’s name in a tone that can only be called snarky and rude. Izzy looks flustered for a moment and then quickly stands up. The redhead strides toward us like she’s on a Victoria’s Secret runway. Her green eyes flash at Izzy as she stops next to her.