Page 30 of One Big Little Secret

Especially considering—well, fuck,everything.

“Coffee?” I ask, hoping to clear the awkward silence in the air. “I haven’t had my morning cup yet.”

“Sure.”

My usual place, The Silver Swan, is just down the road. I pull up in the parking lot.

“Best brew in the city in my not-so-humble opinion. The dark chocolate mocha will keep you on your toes all day,” I tell her as we walk inside.

“Right.” She tenses when we step inside and she looks up at the menu.

It’s the prices, I think. Her fingers go white as she grips her purse.

Damn. I never thought this place might be too expensive for her. She’s a mom on a budget with a kid, and somehow, I get the impression there’s no man in the picture.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me. Company perk,” I growl, grabbing her little hand as she reaches into her purse and gently pushing it aside.

“…are you sure?” She blinks at me. “I can afford a basic cup of—”

“Screw basic. Nobody comes here for drip coffee unless they have a screw loose. Pick something off the real menu.”

She stares at me like I’ve lost it.

Hell, maybe I have.

The girl behind the register greets us and I order my usual: double espresso mocha with plenty of dark chocolate.

Salem scans the menu and orders a latte that sounds like a splash of decaf in a glass of cream with honey.

Fuck everything about decaf.

I don’t know how people drink the stuff and pretend they’re doing anything to jump-start their day.

She glances at the drink in my hand and smiles while we head for the car.

“If I drank that, I’d be bouncing off the walls for days,” she says.

“When you work as many hours as I do, you need rocket fuel. How do you function without caffeine?”

“Oh, I actually had a little coffee while I was waiting at The Cardinal. I didn’t realize we were going to stop.”

“Common courtesy,” I lie, trying not to grit my teeth. “I thought you’d enjoy something from the best coffeehouse in Kansas City.” It takes all my willpower not to point out that the cup she’s holding now doesn’t actually contain real coffee.

Still, it’s nice to know she’s not a caffeine-hating lunatic.

“Thanks. It’s tasty enough,” she says, though she doesn’t sound like she means it. She glances at my cup as I put it in the cupholder between us. “Do you always like your drinks so sugary? You asked for extra chocolate.”

“You sound like my brother Dexter,” I tell her.

“The big hero?”

“Yeah. He likes to think he’s wearing a cape or whatever after one fight with a mobster.”

“I meant it as a compliment. You can’t deny what he did was pretty brave.”

“You compared me to a guy who took down a criminal enterprise.”

“I still think it’s a compliment.” She shrugs and fastens her seat belt, taking a sip of that awful concoction masquerading as coffee.

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