Zoe spotted her as soon as she walked into the diner. A blonde white woman about five-seven, a few inches over Zoe’s height. Early thirties maybe but with the body of someone younger. Athletic was the word. Long-legged, slim-hipped, and small-breasted. Very, very nice. She had her hair tied back in a short ponytail. She walked to the counter, and Zoe wasn’t the only one to appreciate the lean, tight figure in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Several guys took a look as she passed. The diner was crowded, and the blonde woman sat at the counter, quite close to Zoe.

“Could I ...?”

Zoe looked up startled as the woman spoke to her, pointing to the menu on the counter in front of Zoe.

“Ah, sure.” Zoe pushed it across the counter in its plastic stand. There were two empty stools between them. Zoe stretched across the space, and the blonde woman stretched across to meet her -- or rather, to take the menu. She smiled her thanks. Blue-green eyes and a sincere smile, and just for a second, the eyes widened, and the smile grew before she said “thanks” and moved back.

She was pretty. She had on enough makeup to enhance it, but she wasn’t one you’d get a fright waking up to without makeup in the morning. She had good bone structure and clear skin. Waking up next to her would be quite ... delightful.

Burger, Zoe told herself sternly. Eat. This is a diner in Barstow, not a pickup joint. She needed to eat and get out of here to her motel room. The long drive down the I-5 had worn her out. After a nearly sleepless night on a cot, surrounded by other people and their pets, and getting up in the morning to the news that both the motel and Billy’s were nothing but ashes, she’d made her decision. She’d filled up with gas and driven south. At Bakersfield she’d almost taken the road to LA but changed her mind at the last minute. LA was an okay place to visit, but she wouldn’t want to live there. So she went east, until she hit Barstow as the sun was setting. Tomorrow she had a vague plan to go to Vegas, see what work she could find there.

The blonde woman ordered a burger too, with salad instead of fries, and a bottle of water. Zoe supposed you didn’t keep a figure like that eating fries. Not after you turned thirty, anyway. In fact, you didn’t keep a figure like that unless you busted your ass in the gym several days a week.

The blonde woman ate her food and checked stuff on her phone. That reminded Zoe, and she took hers out to tap in a message to Gary.

In Barstow for the night. I’ll e-mail you soon. All okay.

Poor Gary. He did worry about her. He’d been so kind after she ended up stranded in Greendale six months ago. He’d had hopes about her, and they’d gone out a couple of times. But only as friends, even though he’d wanted them to be dates. He was a nice guy. Not her type, even as far as guys went, but a nice guy. He cared a lot about being a deputy, serving his community, and she admired that. He’d even put some ideas in her head on that subject.

She reached for a fry only to find the last one already gone. Her burger was nothing more than a few crumbs on the plate. Oh well, time to go and see how many rocks they’d put in the mattress. She paid the check and hit the bathroom before leaving. Her hair was attempting to return to its default “crazy lady who just got out of bed” state, and she retied it and left the bathroom.

A man was sitting on the stool beside the blonde woman, talking to her. Zoe scowled. No, talking at her, as the blonde woman didn’t look interested and gave him nothing more than a polite nod or two before looking at her phone again or sipping her water. This didn’t discourage him. Nothing discouraged some guys. Shoot them, and they’d say you were playing hard to get.

Not Zoe’s problem. She could walk away. Anyone who looked as good as the blonde woman would be used to being hit on and could surely handle it. This was a public place with plenty of people around if he tried anything.

Except a lot of the time they didn’t help, did they? The more people there were, the more of them sat there and waited for someone else to act.

Zoe decided. She walked up and hopped onto the stool beside the blonde woman, rattled her motel room keys on the counter.

“You nearly finished? I’m ready to hit the sack.” She looked across to the man. “Who’s this guy?”