Taking a step back, he watched the two baristas at work, then realized that Jack was pointing and talking and that the baristas were filling up three one-pound bags, each with its own kind of ground beans. What were they going to do with all that coffee?
Then again, Jack had been through a lot that morning. He’d been ashen when the sheriff had brought him back to the feed and grain. Besides, having extra coffee on hand wasn’t the end of the world.
The barista with the goatee moved to a different part of the back counter, and Jack was now admiring his work as he took something that looked like a science beaker, curled a bit of paper into a cone and set it inside, and started slowly pouring hot water over it. Indeed, the beaker was on a scale, and the water was being precisely measured.
Jack hadn’t ordered an ordinary coffee, but something fancy. He didn’t just love coffee; he was adevotee.
When the ceremony was over and whatever Jack had ordered had been poured into a tall white mug, and Morgan’s mocha was as well, he realized they were going to sit there to have their drinks. Not, as he’d imagined, get them to go and rush to their next destination, a series of brisk stops before returning to thefeed and grain. Hurrying to get it all over with, as he would have done in Denver so he could get back to his job.
Compared to his time in Hysham, his life in Denver had been a race toward disaster. It had dissolved in a flicker of a second when he’d been T-boned at that intersection. The other car had been driven by a young woman going too fast, who had been horrified at the injury she’d caused. She’d not been drunk or on her phone, just in a hurry.
Morgan, half conscious and being dragged away in an ambulance, had thought there might be a court battle over who would cover the costs—but when he’d woken up in the hospital, with Bradley hovering nearby, he’d learned that the other family’s insurance was going to cover everything. That, in fact, the father had insisted on it, and that his daughter would have points on her license and was going to do community service to make amends.
It had been a brighter beginning to his recovery than he might have imagined. But things had gone downhill after that.
“Morgan?”
Morgan shook himself aware of his surroundings and paid with his credit card, then let Jack carry their purchases to a little Formica-topped table that had just opened up. They sat down together, and the goatee-wearing barista came over with a tray of pastries, a pair of small white china plates, and tongs.
“Pick one,” he said. “It’s on the house.”
“Thank you, Julian.” Jack pointed to the biggest scone Morgan had ever seen, dusted with crystal sugar, with bits of raspberry poking out.
Morgan pointed to a half-white, half-black cookie and nodded his thanks as well. Julian was the one with the goatee, which was one mystery solved.
When Morgan took a sip of his mocha, the sugar and caffeine hit him all at once. His shoulders came down, and he let himselfsettle into the moment. In that fancy coffee shop that seemed too grand for so small a town.
“Guess you got questions,” Jack said, leaning forward to be heard over the chatter of other patrons.
“I got questions,” Morgan agreed, also leaning in. “You’re Jack now, not Nimble.” He opened his mouth to say more, to ask more, but Jack shook his head, his dark hair in his eyes, a smile curling his mouth.
“I’m the same as I was before,” he said. “Just Jack now.”
“Jack Be Nimble,” Morgan said.
Jack chomped on his scone with delight, sugar on his lips, a flush to his cheeks.
Morgan jerked his attention back to his coffee and overly sweet cookie.
“You couldn’t say who you were,” Jack said around a mouthful of pastry. “Star insisted, and it made sense. I sort of became him, became Nimble. But now you know me as me.”
“I don’t, actually,” Morgan said slowly. “But I’d like to.”
Jack’s eyebrows went up.
Morgan buried himself in his coffee, hardly knowing what he’d meant by that. But he did want to know who Jack was, what his thoughts were as he sat there, his fingers curled around that tall mug, strong and tender at the same time, like he was in love with his coffee and that moment.
“I mean, because you’re staying with me and all,” Morgan said, his thoughts flittering around in his head. “Look, all of this is new for me.”
“New?” Jack asked. He licked his lips and pressed his finger to the china plate to gather up the remains of his scone. Riveting Morgan’s attention.
“This town. This life.” Morgan shook his head and drank some of his coffee, then nibbled at the cookie and put it down again. “When I first got here, all I wanted to do was leave—butright away, everyone I met insisted I couldn’t. And the longer I stay, the more this town puts its hooks in me.”
“That such a bad thing?” Jack tipped his head to one side and smiled at Morgan as though the answer was obvious. “I’ve been worse places. Nicer ones, too, but this town is better than a lot. It’s quiet, for a start.”
Morgan sipped his coffee and waited, sensing something shifting beneath Jack’s skin.
“Know what a Janney coupler is?” Jack asked.
