“And I’m invited?” I looked down at Brontë who had taken to leaning against me again as we’d paused.
“I mean, where will she lean if you’re not there to support her?” Graham asked.
I grinned. Being chosen by someone else’s dog was the highest honor, and I was not about to say no to a little more hang time with the old girl.
“Well, I certainly can’t let her fall, so the answer is yes.”
A few minutes later we pulled up to a cute café with a sign that read Mornin’ Joe’s above the door. Brontë planted herself next to one of two bistro tables set out in front of a large picture window. She wore an expectant look.
“I think B is ready for her cup of joe,” I said, looking through the window at the interior. “I’ve seen this place but have never been in.”
“You’re kidding,” Graham said, waving at an older gentleman through the window. “This is our spot. We come here nearly every day.” He pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. “Since this is your first time, and is my and B’s place, we’d like to treat you. Drink of choice?”
“Oatmilk cappuccino, please.”
He nodded, handed me Brontë’s leash, and went inside.
He returned a few minutes later with the gentleman I’d seen him wave to. The older man was carrying a tray with a small vase holding a single daisy in it, two steaming mugs of coffee, and a plate of pastries.
“Lior, please meet Joe. Joe, this is my friend Lior,” Graham said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Joe,” I said, smiling at the leaf designs drawn in the foam of both drinks. “This looks amazing. I can see why Graham loves it here. Thank you.”
“I never get a daisy though,” Graham said, playfully glaring at Joe who then winked at me. “Joe owns the shop and employs the most amazing baker.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked as Joe pulled up a chair from the table beside ours.
While we chatted, Graham sat and sipped his coffee, smiling as he looked back-and-forth between us, clearly pleased by the connection he’d forged. I noticed with amusement that Joe kept glancing his way, an obvious glint in his eyes. I could just imagine that the older man had thoughts about his friend Graham bringing a lady around.
After a while, Joe went back inside to help out the staff and the ever-growing morning line-up waiting for food and coffee.
“He’s fantastic,” I said, taking a sip of my cappuccino. “And he clearly keeps an eye on the two of you.”
“This place became my little haven when the shit hit the fan last year. He knows when to talk and when to just sit in companionable silence. And he’s got life lessons for days. The guy has seen a lot.”
When we finished our food and drinks, Graham offered to walk me home.
“Brontë will be okay?” I asked.
“I think so. She’s had a rest and a treat so she should be able to handle a couple more blocks.”
“So, what’s the rest of your day look like?” I asked as we walked.
“Still just trying to finish up this new book. I’ll probably do a couple of sprints on that and then call it a day. I need to write my article for Around the Neighborhood, and I have some emails to respond to. How about you?”
We had reached my front stoop and I gestured toward the house.
“Do you want to come in for a bit? I don’t have a pebble lawn, but B is welcome to lie down in the grass if she wants.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.” He looked down at Brontë who had taken to standing beside me again. “You sure we won’t be interrupting anything?”
“All I’ve got planned is some research and I can do that later.”
“Well then, we’d love to see where world famous fashion model Lior Flynn hangs her designer hats.” He looked up at the faded baseball cap on my head. “Or… whatever.”
I smacked him on the arm and then led the way up the front steps.
“This is… stunning,” he said, stepping into the living room and taking in the tall ceilings, layers of patterns, artwork on the walls, my furniture that was both stylish and cozy, and the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. “It’s not at all what?—”
