When she returned to the table, the men were waiting silently with rigid shoulders and hard, stony jaws. Okay, so that was a no to them finding some common ground. She slid into place next to Andrew and wrapped her hand around the whipped-cream, syrup-drizzled cappuccino sitting in front of her. Unsure of how to proceed, she sipped her coffee slowly, her mind thinking of and rejecting possible topics of conversation. “This is so good,” she said, infusing brightness into her tone. “What did you two get?” “Black coffee,” they both said at the same time, in identical flat inflections. Aha! Common ground. Going with it, Rachel said, “Well, they have great coffee here.” “They do.” Cole’s lips twitched into an almost grin. “Want me to get you some?” “But I—” “Because what you’re drinking,”
