Page 114 of Finding Noah

The ambiance was like a time machine to a place I'd never been to, and I didn't hate it.

In fact, I liked it, and if I had the time, I would sit on one of those old-as-fuck couches and stay a while.

Behind the counter was a woman I presumed to be Lisa, and she looked to be about twice my age, her brown hair streaked with thick chunks of gray. She wore a permanent scowl, but there was a soft kindness in her eyes as I approached.

Instantly, I knew I liked her too.

“Good morning, Officer,” she said, barely twitching her lips toward a smile.

I stopped in my tracks on the way to pull out my wallet, tipping my head with curiosity. “How did you know I'm a cop?”

“My husband was a cop for forty years,” she explained, pointing toward a picture on the wall behind the counter.

I followed her finger to meet eyes with the frozen image of a man in a police uniform, his face as grumpy as hers but with the same kindness in his eyes.

“You have a certain way of carrying yourselves,” she continued. “It's in the walk or something.”

“I never noticed,” I admitted with a chuckle, resting my hands on the counter.

“What can I get for you?”

“Uh …” I glanced around, in search of a menu, but found none. Helpless, I looked back at her. “What do you have?”

She nudged her chin toward the wall holding the dartboards. “Menu's over there.”

“Ah.” I nodded, feeling stupid. Let's blame the exhaustion. “Missed that. Sorry.”

“Not a problem. Take all the time you need.”

Wandering over to the chalkboard menu, I scanned the handwritten list of offerings. There wasn't much to choose from, and that only lifted my hopes that what Lisa did make was going to be fucking incredible, and as I decided on the pistachio latte, I fantasized about telling Meg about this place. Maybe jumping in the car one day and taking a little road trip up here to grab a cup of coffee, spend some time on the couches and play some darts. Not that I'd ever played darts before, but, hey, first time for every—

“What's good here?”

Startled by another voice other than the one in my head, I turned to face the profile of a man a few inches shorter than me. He wore a black baseball cap and a T-shirt with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

How had I not noticed someone else come in here?

I must be more tired than I thought.

Relaxing, I chuckled. “Honestly, I have no clue.”

The guy grunted with a nod. “Whatcha getting?”

“I'm thinking about the pistachio latte. That sounds good.”

Another grunt.

I turned and headed back toward the counter where Lisa waited. I ordered my latte, and she nodded.

“Anything else?”

“Um …” I glanced toward the small case of pastries on the counter and pursed my lips as I perused the limited selection. “You know what? I'll take a chocolate croissant.”

One side of her mouth lifted in an effort to smile as she nodded. “Good choice. Those are Les's favorite.”

“Your husband?”

“Yep,” she answered, punching the numbers into the register. “That'll be six fifty.”