Page 80 of Only Mine
The bell above the door chimes as I enter, and the scent of bacon and fresh-baked muffins wraps around me like a hug.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Noa calls from behind the counter. She takes in my rumpled appearance of yesterday’s jeans, hastily finger-combed hair, and probably visible beard burn on my neck.
“Rough night or rough morning?”
“Both,” I admit, sliding onto one of the three vinyl barstools at the counter.
“Coffee, please. And...” I scan the menu board, looking for something completely unlike my usual healthy fare. “The chicken fried steak. Extra gravy.”
Noa’s eyebrows climb. “At seven in the morning?”
“Yup.”
She pours my coffee, then leans against the counter. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my palms. “But thank you.”
“No problem.” She writes my order on her pad and disappears into the kitchen briefly. When she returns, she starts wiping down the already clean counter. “You’ve been here about a week now, right?”
“Just over, yeah.”
“How are you finding it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and mean it. “It’s so quiet I can hear birds in the morning. In Brooklyn, all I heard was helicopters and sirens. And people actually make eye contact here when they pass on the sidewalk.”
Noa releases a quiet laugh, her brown eyes sparkling. “You sound like my husband. The eye contact thing throws a lot of city people. He still forgets to wave back sometimes.”
“Your husband’s from New York?” I lean forward, interested. “How did he end up here?”
“He came here for family, stayed for me. Though we took the scenic route to figure things out. Small towns have a way of forcing you to face what you’re running from.”
My stomach tightens. “What do you mean?”
“Small town, big feelings. Nowhere to run.” She tops off my coffee. “We have a three-year-old now who terrorizes the café every time we bring him in.”
The kitchen bell dings, and she retrieves my plate, setting the massive chicken fried steak in front of me.
“This looks like a heart attack on a plate,” I say.
“Comfort food usually does.” She watches me cut into it. “So are you still watching Ivy?”
I pause mid-bite. “Actually, no. Saint found someone morequalified.” As soon as I realize I sound more bitter than I aimed for, I amend, “Which makes total sense.”
“Ah.”
Noa turns to fiddle with the intricate coffee machine, giving me space.
“It’s the right decision.” Apparently, I’ve decided to double down. “Ivy needs someone with experience, who knows what they’re doing. Not someone who just stumbled into it.”
“And how does Ivy feel about that?”
My throat closes. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t suck for both of us. But … I never came here to be a nanny.”
“Hmm.” Noa’s tone is carefully neutral. “So what’s next for you? Have you explored much yet?”
“A little. Yesterday at Talon Ranch was incredible. All that open space, no crowds. Just horses and sky.” I pause. “Though honestly, I haven’t really walked around downtown. I keep meaning to explore the shops, maybe hike some trails, but...”
But I’ve been caught up in Saint’s world instead. Breakfast with Ivy. Dinner at their table. Living in their guesthouse like I’m part of something I’m not.
