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“You serve cocktails too?”
“After dark.” The woman behind the counter smiles. “Coffee gets people through the day. Cocktails get them through everything after.”
“I think I found my new favorite place.”
“You haven’t even had the coffee yet.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.” I flash her a smile.
She laughs. She has to be around my age, maybe a little older: blonde hair twisted into a loose knot, with pieces falling around her face; bright eyes; and the kind of easy smile that makes it feel like we’ve already been talking longer than thirty seconds.
“What can I get for you?”
“Iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso. And whatever pastry has the highest likelihood of preventing me from dying before dinner.”
She glances toward the case. “Cheese danish. Classic, but a personal favorite.”
“Done.”
Her fingers hover over the register. “You trust me?”
“We’ve known each other almost a full minute, so obviously.”
“Dangerous way to live.” She grabs a cup from behind the counter and begins her magic.
“Well, dangerous seems better than the weekend I had. Just weird.”
Her mouth curves. “I’m going to add a little salted butterscotch to the brown sugar. House-made.”
“You make your own syrups?”
“Most of them.”
Impressive.
“Go for it.”
“Rough morning.” She carries on a conversation while making me a real cup of yummy goodness, not the watered-down version I had this morning.
I wonder if Bishop knows about this place.
Hmm. Let’s shut down that thought right now. You are making a friend who is trying to have a conversation with you.
“Actually, kind of the opposite. First day at a new job.”
Her expression brightens. “Wilder House?”
I glance down at the temporary badge still clipped to my bag. “Is it that obvious?”
“Lucky guess.” She taps the screen of the register, then calls a greeting to someone walking through the door without even looking up. “You guys wander in here around lunchtime pretty regularly.”
“Good to know I’m already fitting in.”
“Avery,” she says, nodding toward the little name tag pinned to her apron.
“Delaney.” I hold out my hand.
She sets the cup down on the counter, wipes her hands on her apron, and gives me a gentle shake. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Delaney.”
