Page 8 of The Scenic Route
“It’s Lou.” Her smile was quick and easy. “If you were looking for my name, that is. If you were just checking me out, then thank you, I’m flattered. What can I get you?”
“Hi Lou. I’m Felicity.” She had to smile at the barista’s chatter as she slid onto one of the stools at the counter. Lou reminded her a little bit of Charlie—the two tended toward the same unfiltered brain-to-mouth monologue. “A probiotic smoothie would be great.” Her gaze snagged on the pastry case, and she had a seldom-felt urge to indulge. “And one of those white-chocolate raspberry scones.”
“Excellent choice,” Lou said approvingly, plating the scone before ringing up the order. “Baked them myself, so you know they’re good.”
As Felicity paid in cash and stuffed a few bills into the tip jar, she glanced toward the door as casually as possible. It seemed as though Mr. B. Green was just going to wait for her in theparking lot. She mentally shrugged. No amazing-smelling scone for him then. His loss.
“You’re just gorgeous, by the way.”
The out-of-the-blue compliment made Felicity pause before saying, “Thank you.”
“I’m not hitting on you or anything,” the barista chattered on as she made the smoothie. “I’m just saying it as a completely platonic and objective fact. I get the same people in here every day, so it’s nice to see someone new for a change.”
Felicity accepted her drink and thanked Lou again. She took a bite of her scone, and her eyes half closed in sugary bliss. “You make a mean pastry, Lou.”
“Why, thank you.” Lou sketched a curtsy. “So what brings you to our weird little town?”
“I needed a few days of peace,” Felicity said, fairly honestly. “Plus I’m doing a little research.”
“Research?” That one word seemed to grab all Lou’s attention. “What type of research?”
Felicity paused, considering her options. Just from the short conversation she’d had with the barista, Felicity had a feeling that Lou could be a good resource. “I’m investigating someone who used to be in the militia group outside town, the Free—”
“Freedom Survivors,” Lou said with her. “Isn’t that the stupidest name?”
“It really is.” Felicity’d had the same thought. “It sounds like they’re survivors of freedom.”
“Exactly!” Lou smacked the counter with her open hand. “It doesn’t make any sense. They should’ve called themselvesFreedom Upholders or something.”
“That sounds a little stiff. Freedom Promoters?”
“Eh,” Lou scrunched her nose. “That sounds like a country music agent.”
“You’re right.” Felicity accepted the constructive criticism good-naturedly. “Freedom Builders?”
“Super PAC.”
Felicity winced. “Uncomfortably accurate. Freedom Growers?”
“Pot producer.”
“Freedom Winners.”
Lou clapped her hands. “That’s the one.”
Felicity put her hands up in victory, reveling in the moment of being in complete sync with a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger.
“We’re going to be best friends, aren’t we?” Lou echoed her thoughts.
“Yep.”
“Better buckle up.” Lou’s smile was positively devilish. “Being my friend is a wild ride.”
***
It wasn’t until Lou had a run of customers and Felicity was knee-deep in research on her laptop that Mr. B. Green made his way into the shop.
“Hey,” Felicity greeted him without looking away from her laptop screen. “Finally got sick of sitting in your car?”
