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pieto go. Seemed as if she wasn’t the only one who thought the pie was outstanding. Idly she listened as he and Kat chatted, about neighbors, about the weather. Yes, beyond a doubt the waitress was as much of a pull as the pie, at least as far as the male populace was concerned.
    Carlin looked out the window. Battle Ridge wasn’t much to look at, that was a fact, but it had everything a small town needed, at least as far as she was concerned: a place to eat, a Laundromat, a general store. The people who passed by The Pie Hole all glanced in and waved, even though they didn’t stop.
    Pulling her jacket close, she unzipped one of the pockets to get money for her food, instinctively counting the bills. Oh, there was plenty for the pie and coffee, but not enough, not nearly enough. Living on the road was eating through her savings faster than she’d expected.
    She gathered her things and walked toward the cash register with money in hand. The man who’d come in for lemon meringue left, his gaze lingering on Carlin for a moment too long. There it was again; the look was curious, not malicious—she knew the difference—but one more person had noticed her.
    Kat took her money, rang up the sale, and passed back the change. Carlin laid down a dollar tip. It wasn’t much, but percentagewise it was generous, and no matter how poor she was she wasn’t going to stiff a nice person who’d earned a tip.
    Carlin knew she should take her atlas and go, but she didn’t. There might be a job opportunity in town, but if she just drove away without asking, she’d never know. She slid her butt half onto a stool and asked, “How long have you worked here?”
    A slow smile curled Kat’s mouth. “Seems like forever. It’s my place. I’m cook, waitress, manager, and chief bottle-washer all rolled into one.”
    Out of all that, one thing registered uppermost. “You made the pie? It was great.”
    “I did. Thanks.” The grin widened. “Apple tomorrow, if you’re still around.”
    “Depends on whether or not anyone around here is looking for help.” Carlin figured there were two places in a town where pretty much everything would be common knowledge: the beauty salon, and the café. She’d planned to eat, fill the Subaru’s gas tank, and head on down the road, but her plans were fluid, and she’d take advantage of whatever break came her way.
    For a long moment, Kat was silent, her gaze still clear but not giving anything away as she did her own assessment. “Maybe. Can you cook?”
    “I can learn.” She could cook enough to get by, for herself, but she for certain wasn’t on Kat’s level. If anyone had ever asked her what her life’s ambitions were, cooking would have been way down close to the bottom of the list. Okay, it probably wouldn’t even have
made
the list. Her life had changed though, and she was willing to do any kind of work.
    “You got anything against doing dishes and mopping floors?”
    “Nope.” She wasn’t proud; she’d scrub floors on her knees, if that was what it took to earn some money.
    “Ever done any waitressing?”
    “A little. It’s been a while.”
    “Some things never change.” Kat pursed her lips. “I can only afford to hire you part-time, and the pay isn’t exactly great.”
    One thing she hadn’t expected when she asked about available jobs was to find one here in this little café. She wasn’t about to turn it down, but now came the tough part. “That’s okay. The thing is …” She paused, looking at the three other customers to make certain they couldn’t hear, then glancing out the window to take aquick study of the street before taking a deep breath and turning back to Kat. “I need to be paid in cash. No record, no taxes, no paperwork.”
    Kat’s easy smile died, and something flashed in those clear eyes. “Are you in trouble? More specifically, are
you
trouble?”
    Carlin tilted her head, considering that, then shrugged. “I guess you could look at it both