Chapter 117 Dripping Course1Same Night

• Isla was late and already irritated with herself.
• The café near the industrial edge of the city was packed with the usual evening crowd, the air thick with the smell of roasted beans and warm sugar. She had only fifteen minutes left before she needed to leave for the private tasting, and the line in front of the counter refused to move. She ordered a black coffee, stepped aside to wait, and checked the time on her phone again even though she already knew what it would say.
• A man moved into the narrow space beside her from the left. He was tall and solidly built, carrying nothing except a folded newspaper and a paper cup of his own. Isla shifted slightly to give him room. Their shoulders brushed and the lid on her cup had not been pressed down properly, so hot coffee spilled across the back of her hand and onto the cuff of her light blouse.