Country Heaven by Ava Miles

knowing how to play the piano.”
    Rye nodded and stroked his goatee. “I like that. That’s how I feel about playing Old Faithful.”
    The geyser at Yellowstone Park? “Excuse me?”
    He picked up another strip of bacon. “My guitar. The only thing a man can count on in life besides a dog.”
    Tory disagreed, but then again, she and dogs didn’t get along.
    His fork drew circles in the remaining syrup on his plate. “Why don’t you quit college and go to cooking school? You’d make an incredible chef.”
    That’s what everybody said, and she’d always given the same answer. “My grandma wanted me to have an education. She was the cook at Diner Heaven for three decades, and she wanted better for me.”
    Rye broke the bacon in two. “Well, let me give you some advice. You should listen to your own gut and not your family when it comes to your future.”
    There was bitterness in his voice, and she remembered what he had said about his family. Clearly it was a sore subject, which only made her more curious. “And you know this how?”
    He looked away. “Personal experience. So, what are you in school for?”
    “Anthropology.”
    “What’s that?” he drawled.
    Something about the way he asked made her suspect he was playing dumb. While she hadn’t known him long, she already had the impression that there were a dozen different Ryes that he took out for the right occasion, rather like a man selecting his daily tie to accompany his suit.
    “It’s the study of the origins of physical and cultural development. I specialize in cultural anthropology, which looks at social norms and customs.”
    “What the hell are you going to do with it?”
    “Teach college, I guess.
    He popped in another piece of bacon and chewed. “What year are you?”
    “My coursework is finished, so I just need to wrap up my dissertation. I’m studying the effects of tourism on the Maasai people’s traditional way of life in Kenya.” She turned away to start the dishwasher.
    That was a mouthful. And it sounded as dull as dishwater, even to her. “You’re in graduate school? How old are you?”
    She pivoted at the surprise in his voice. “Twenty–eight. Why?”
    He rubbed his fingers on his napkin. “Well, shoot, you’re damn near my age.”
    “How old are you?” she asked.
    “I’m turning thirty this year.”
    “Oh.” For some reason she’d thought he was younger. Maybe because of the way he acted.
    He walked over with his mug to pour himself some more coffee. “Aren’t you a little old to still be in school?”
    “I had to take some time off when my grandparents got sick.”
    “How long is it going to take you to write your dissertation?”
    “Well, that’s kinda up in the air. My grant hasn’t come through yet, but I can do my field research and finish my dissertation as soon as it does.” Even thinking about the grant made her heart race. She’d never traveled outside the U.S. before, but soon she’d be heading to rural Africa.
    “So, you’re a smarty pants.” He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”
    “Why?” she asked, scrunching her forehead. “You have something against education?”
    “No,” he said, taking a swig of coffee. “It’s just that some folks with too much schooling get it into their heads that they’re better than those who don’t have much. I don’t like that.”
    “I agree. You know, I’ve always hated studying.” And wasn’t it odd that she’d told him that? She’d never said it out loud before.
    “So why do it?”
    “Because it was Grandma’s wish for me.” More like her deathbed wish. Of course, Tory had been happy enough to grant it. Her parents had been educators, after all, and she knew from her grandma’s struggles that working in a restaurant was harder than teaching. This way she could be home in the evenings with the family she dreamed about having. Not serving up dinner specials like her grandma had done all her life, missing