Page 16 of Owl’s Cherished Mate

“Not really.” She sighed.

Two words, but they were honest.

“Want to get out of here?” I asked.

She looked up. Her eyes searched my face before she flashed a small smile.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

7

BONNIE

We ended up at Delilah’s Café.

It wasn’t planned. Gray had asked if I wanted to get out of there, and I’d said yes before my brain could overrule my mouth. Then we were walking, side by side, and neither of us said where we were going. Delilah’s door was propped open, and we walked in like it had been the plan all along even though it hadn’t.

Gray motioned for me to step in first. As I did, Delilah looked up from behind the counter.

She was mid-forties, petite and curvy, with red hair streaked in silver and chunky jewelry that clinked when she moved. Her eyes had that permanent sparkle to them—like she was always in on a joke no one else had heard yet. The second she saw me walk in with Gray, that sparkle turned into a full blaze and her brow lifted.

“Well, well,” she said, a smug grin stretching across her face. “Bonnie Williams and Gray Barns. This is a combination I wasn’t expecting.”

“We just need a table,” Gray said, ignoring her theatrics as much as he could.

“Of course you do, honey.” She grabbed two menus and led us to a booth in the back corner—the one tucked away from the windows and the other customers. She set the menus down with a wink. “Take your time. I’ll bring coffee.”

She was gone before either of us could respond, her bracelets jangling as she disappeared behind the counter.

“She’s going to talk about this,” I said, sliding into the booth.

“She’s already talking about it.” Gray sat across from me. “Delilah starts composing gossip before the event is even over.”

Despite the sick feeling from my run-in with Darren still sloshing through me, I chuckled. “You know her well.”

“Everyone knows Delilah.” He grinned. “More importantly, Delilah knows everyone.”

“That is true.”

Delilah reappeared with two mugs of coffee, a small pitcher of cream, and a plate with two slices of pie she hadn’t been asked for. “Apple, fresh from the oven,” she announced, setting everything down. “On the house. You both look like you could use it.”

She squeezed my shoulder as she passed and went back to the counter.

The coffee was strong and hot. I wrapped my hands around the mug the same way I wrapped them around the tea at the library, and I realized with a jolt that this was becoming a pattern. Me, holding on to warm drinks like they were anchors, like if I let go, I’d float away.

Gray picked up his fork, cut into his pie, and didn’t say a word.

He was good at that. He didn’t rush to fill silence, didn’t press, didn’t ask what Darren had said to me in the parking lot that upset me. He just sat there, steady and present, and let me decide what came next.

So I decided.

“You know who my dad is,” I said.

It wasn’t a question. Of course he knew. Everyone in town did.

“Yeah,” he said without any hesitation.

There wasn’t even a shift in his expression.