“No one else is sitting here.” I cross my arms and lean back, creating some space between us. “How do you know?” Her head tilts, the overhead lights highlighting the apples of her cheeks. “No bag. No phone. And you are giving off some serious stay-the-fuck-away energy.” I quirk a disbelieving brow at the woman. “Stay-the-fuck-away energy?” She hits me with a conspiratorial smile. “Yes. If you were a house, I would sage you.” Ah, more granola, woo-woo, make-lemonade, salt-of-the-earth shit. Exactly what I’m in the mood for.
