passenger let out a small giggle. “This place is as unique-looking as its waitress.”
“I’d say they belong together. Actually, Essie Mae is part owner.”
“Good for her,” Janice said as she emerged from the vehicle.
“Wait here,” Shane told Atlas as he unbuckled him. “I’ll bring you a fresh-baked biscuit.”
The dog whiffled softly and stretched out in the seat.
Shane turned in time to see Janice begin crossing the street. Traffic was sparse. The types of rugged vehicles chugging down the road suggested fishermen and other laborers going about their tasks. He began to follow Janice across, but the rev of an engine swiveled Shane’s head toward the intersection behind them.
A large, rattletrap pickup squealed around the corner, Janice and Shane in the path of its rusty grille.
“Look out!” he shouted and raced toward her.
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