“Thank you,” Tristan said, smiling. Where did Tilly and Jack find these characters?
Irene grumbled something that might have been, “You’re welcome.”Then turned on her heel and stomped off again.
“Don’t mind her,” Grandma said. “She’s always like that. Comes across a little crotchety, but she’s a sweetheart.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Tristan said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was rich, smooth, and perfect. “Wow. This is really good.”
“‘Course it is,” Grandma said proudly. “Nothing like coffee made the good old-fashioned way.”
He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“We make coffee the way we like to make it, and that’s that. Nobody’s complained yet. Of course,” she added under her breath. “This is just our first day.”
Tristan nearly choked on his sip. “Your first day?”
She waved him off. “Details, details.”
He smiled, paid for his coffee, and moved toward the tables. He thought about checking the bakery case but decided against it. His mother had made enough food to feed a cavalry regiment the night before; he was still full.
TJ sat near the window, savoring the warmth of the mug in his hands, the low murmur of voices, and the clatter of cupsbehind the counter. For the first time since landing, he let himself breathe.
He watched as two old men came in, nodded politely to Grandma, and disappeared down the back hallway. He didn’t recognize them, but there was something vaguely familiar about the older woman behind the counter. Probably a regular from when he was younger.
His thoughts drifted to his family. His brothers still helped run the ranch. And his parents? They were still trying to marrythem off. Especially their mother. Now that he was back, she’d be after him.
He could almost hear her now:You’d be happier if you settled down, Tristan. A man can’t live on saltwater and science forever.
He chuckled softly and took another sip. The coffee was good. Real good. Strong enough to wake a horse, smooth enough to make him forget, for a moment, that he was the family’s lone academic black sheep.
For now, Pleasant Beans would do just fine.
A young woman stepped out from behind the counter, a rag in hand, and began wiping down tables.
Tristan watched her work her way toward him. There was something familiar about her, maybe they’d gone to school together? An underclassman, perhaps?
When she reached his table, she paused, smiling. “Hello. Enjoying your coffee?”
“I am,” he said.
She straightened a little. “Oh! You’re British. Are you visiting?”
“I am. My family lives here.”
“They do?” Her brows lifted. “Who are they?”
“The Joneses,” he said. “Of the Jones Ranch.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh! You must be Tristan, right? You live in England.”
He smiled. “That’s right.”
“And you’re…,” his face scrunched up before he snapped his fingers. “Lila Comfort if I remember right. But, you weren’t in my class…”
“No, I was a freshman when you were a senior.”
“Ah, yes.” He nodded toward the counter. “So, do you work for Tilly and Jack?”
“Temporarily.” She set the rag on the table. “I’m sort of supervising. I normally work at the Van Cleet Hotel.”
