Dave wouldn’t dare tell Billy that this was his first encounter with a barista. Asheville sported one on every corner, it seemed. What’s good? Back home the closest coffee shop was a twenty minute drive. Dave called her cool.īilly’s, What’ll you have? gave Dave an excuse to ignore the basket, though his face still flamed. She’d lived in the city since leaving the family farm at age eighteen to sell pottery and artwork. That is, if his Aunt Lisa was anything to go by. Here being Asheville, North Carolina-a haven of enlightenment and open-mindedness. Dave fought the urge to poke his lip out. He shoved both hands into his pockets and closed his mouth. Several pairs of eyes, however, focused on Dave. None of the people waiting in line to place orders seemed to pay the basket any attention. Billy Henderson stepped into the shop behind Dave and closed the door. Now, stop pointing and pick your jaw up off the floor. Dave Preston pointed at a laden basket sitting just inside the coffee shop doorway.
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