Page 154 of Micah
I frown.
“No creamer?”
I check the door.
Nothing.
The shelves.
Still nothing.
Then I laugh.
“Of course.”
He's a guy.
Most of the men I've known drink their coffee black enough to melt a spoon.
I shrug and take a tentative sip, anyway.
It's actually not terrible.
A knock sounds at the front door before I can decide whether I'm becoming a black-coffee convert.
Then a cheerful feminine voice rings through the cabin.
“Yoo-hoo!”
I blink.
Who in the world?
I pull open the door.
Standing on the porch are Esme and Bit.
Both of them are carrying grocery bags.
Both are smiling like Christmas morning.
“Good morning, Sloane!” Esme chirps.
“Um...”
I glance between them.
“Hi?”
They don't wait for an invitation.
They simply bustle inside like they've been coming over for years.
Any embarrassment I'd been about to feel evaporates instantly.
These women are sunshine in human form.
They're warm.
