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“Yes, that’s the boy I’m talkin’ about.” Sawyer smiled. “Would you tell him tomorrow morning about finding us here, and tell him that my name is Sawyer O’Donnell?”
The kid nodded. “I’ll do it for you if you don’t tell my daddy that I let you go. He don’t take too kindly to people trespassin’. There’s signs up on all the fences.”
“I promise I won’t tell your daddy,” Sawyer said. “If you’ll show me which way it is that I need to go to get out of this holler, you can go on home.”
“Right back of this barn, you go straight through the corral and past the old outhouse, and you’ll see a fence with a red sign that says ‘Trespassers will be shot.’ Crawl over that fence and go through the ’squite all the way to the road. You can see the top of our barn when you get up on the road. It’s pretty steep to get up to the road, but me and my brother have done it, so I reckon y’all ain’t too old.”
“Which way do we go then?” Jill asked.
“The bus that takes us to school goes…” He looked at his hand and made an L with his left thumb and forefinger. “You go right.” He smiled.
“How old are you?” Jill asked.
“I’m eight, but that right and left business gets me all bumfuzzled.”
“Okay, but you won’t forget to tell Martin in school tomorrow, will you?” Sawyer asked.
He shook his head. “You’d best put them blankets back where Daddy had them. He don’t like things left out of place.”
“We will, and thank you,” Jill said.
“Bye, and y’all ought to get on out of here pretty quick. Daddy is feedin’ the hogs, but you never know if he’ll need something out of the tack room or not,” the boy said, and then he and the dog were gone.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee,” Jill groaned.
Sawyer quickly folded the blanket they had huddled under. “Well, darlin’, I’m sure once we hop that barbed-wire fence, beat our way through another mesquite thicket, and climb up out of this holler, there will be a Starbucks sitting right there.”
Jill followed his lead, stretching to get the kinks out of her back. “And a hotel right beside it with a soft bed and a big shower.” She shook hay from the bottom blanket and handed it to Sawyer. “I’m grateful right now that we had a place with a roof to sleep. We might have been huddled up against a scrub oak tree somewhere.”
“Hungry?”
“Yes, but I’ll live. You think someone will come along and give us a ride once we’re on the road?”
“Could we trust anyone other than Gladys or Polly or Verdie enough to get into the car or truck with them?” he asked.
“Well, shit!” she mumbled as they followed the path through the mesquite thicket.
Bits of hay had woven their way into Sawyer’s hair, and his jeans looked like he’d crumpled them up and let a dog or two sleep on them. Jill figured if she looked in a mirror, she’d be in the same bedraggled condition.
“Why would they do it?” she asked.
“If I was a guessin’ man, I’d guess that the Brennans got us first and they planned on throwing me out somewhere along the way and then sending Quaid out to rescue you. The way they had it planned is that you’d be so grateful to him for helping you to escape that you would have to repay him.”
“But you?”
“I’m collateral damage. They had figured on you taking your own truck, but when we got into my vehicle together, they had to take me with you.”
“They would have probably hog-tied you and given you to Kinsey to play with all weekend, instead of throwing you out beside the road.” She grinned. “And at the end of the weekend, she’d have you pantin’ around her long legs like a male dog after an old bitch in the springtime.”
“Maybe that’s what she thought, but she would have been in for a big surprise.”
They came out of the thicket and there was a wall of mud in front of them. Two little boys might climb that thing like monkeys when there was grass on it, but two grown adults were another story.
“Now what?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest and studied the situation. “If I had a chain saw, I could cut down a tree, and we’d climb up it to the edge. Who’d have thought there would be an embankment like this in these parts? I can see the guard rails up there.”
“Me too. I vote that we keep the road in sight and follow it until we come to a better place to climb up,” she said.
He nodded and held up his left hand, making an L with his thumb and forefinger. “That way.” He grinned as he pointed.
“Yep, at least the sun is coming up and it’s not raining or sleeting,” she said.
* * *
Sawyer took her hand in his and trudged on ahead. She looked downright cute with hay stuck in her red hair. And by damn, she was a good sport to boot. She’d found things to be grateful for rather than bitching about her feet aching or no food.
“Are we getting close to the Starbucks?” she asked.
“It’s not far. Just keep walkin’ and thinkin’ about it,” he said.
A big bluetick hound bounded out of the brush and fell in behind them. He kept his distance, but when Sawyer looked back, he wagged his tail, so hopefully he wasn’t stalking them for his breakfast.
“I smell coffee,” she said.
“It’s a mirage.”
“A mirage is something you see, like a coffee shop or a Dairy Queen up ahead, but an aroma is something different, and I swear I smell coffee and a woodstove,” she said.
“If you do, let’s hope it’s not on Wallace Redding’s part of the Holler. From what that kid said, I don’t think those folks play well with others.”
“He said his daddy’s pig farm was the last one in Salt Holler, and when we climbed over the fence, we were out of it,” she said.
The hound dog shot out past them and was a blur as he ran ahead. Sawyer cocked his head to one side. “I heard someone whistling. That dog is going home. There’s a house up there, and it’s not far. Maybe they’ll have a phone we can use.”
“Or they’d be willing to share their coffee,” she said.
Neither of them saw the cabin until they were right up on it. The back half was built into a hillside with only the front showing. That part had a wide porch roof made of split logs and held up by four tree trunks that still had the bark attached. The hound lay on the porch beside an old rocker. When he saw them, his tail beat out a welcome on the wooden floor.
The man who stepped out the door with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands wasn’t much over five feet tall and wore bibbed overalls, a red flannel shirt, and worn work boots. The wind blew his wispy white hair in all directions, and his blue eyes had settled into a bed of deep wrinkles.
“State your business. You ain’t supposed to be on my property. Didn’t you read the sign that said trespassers would be shot?” he said gruffly.
“I’ve read a lot of those signs,” Jill said. “Are we still in Salt Holler?”
“Not in Wallace Redding’s part of the holler. You’re at the very end in my part right now,” he said.
“Are you kin to the Gallaghers or the Brennans?” Jill asked.
“Hell, no! If I was, I’d shoot myself in the head with this gun.”
“We were kidnapped, but we escaped, and now we’re trying to get back to Burnt Boot,” Sawyer said.
“That damned feud. I heard it had fired up again over a bunch of pigs that got stolen. You give me your word y’all ain’t no revenuers from the gov’ment?” He eyed them both carefully.
“I promise. We’d sure like to borrow your phone and call for help, sir,” Sawyer said.
“Ain’t got no phone, but from the looks of you both, you could use some breakfast. Me and Otis here, we done ate, but there’s plenty of flapjacks left over, and coffee is hot.”
“We’d appreciate that very much,” Jill said.
“Well, don’t stand out here in the cold. Come on in here and tell me your story. I like a good tale, and there ain’t been nobody to talk to for at least a month. Wallace is supposed to come over next week for a batch of brew, so you can entertain me until then. I’m Tilly, short for Tilman.”
“I’m Sawyer O’Donnell, and this Jill Cleary,” Sawyer said, glad that Tilly had lowered the shotgun and was holding the door open for them.
“So you are Gladys’s new foreman at Fiddle Creek, and you are her niece who’ll wind up with it someday. Now it makes sense why them thievin’, feudin’ families would want to kidnap you. Crazy sons a bitches ain’t got a lick of sense, but they’ve both been after Fiddle Creek for years. Go on over there and wash up a little bit while I put the breakfast on the table for you.” Tilly motioned toward the back side of the cabin, where a pump sat at the end of a makeshift table with a washbasin below it. “Ain’t got no hot water heated up, so you’ll have to make do with cold, but I expect after a night in the woods, it won’t feel too bad. Where’d y’all bed down?”
“In a barn a couple of miles back that way.” Sawyer pointed.
“See anybody?”
“Just a kid that gave us some directions out of there. Said that we could climb up to the road, but we haven’t found a place that wasn’t a muddy mess,” Jill answered.
Tilly set his mouth in a firm line. “You’d be some lucky folks. That place belongs to Wallace’s nephew, and he’s a mean bastard. They ain’t friendly in Salt Holler. Ain’t but a handful of people is allowed across the bridge. Years ago it was a place where outlaws went. I reckon those that live here are still the offspring of those outrunnin’ the law. Me and Otis, we keep our distance from them people.”
“But you sell him moonshine?” Sawyer asked.
“Hell, yeah! Got to sell it to someone, and I damn sure don’t want people comin’ around here. They might bring the gov’ment men with ’em. This way we’re both makin’ some money, and I ain’t got to deal with people. I’m a hermit,” Tilly said.
The coffee was so strong that it could melt the enamel from teeth. The pancakes were rubbery, but the hot, buttered, homemade sugar syrup made them go down right well. Sawyer finished off two stacks before he finally pushed back from the table. “We thank you for your hospitality. Do you have a vehicle that can get us out of this place? We’d be glad to pay you well to take us home to Fiddle Creek.”
He rubbed his freshly shaven chin. “Ain’t got no car, but I do go to town twice a year. It ain’t time yet, but I’m runnin’ low on a few things. It’s a five-mile stretch up there on the road, and I reckon if you’d be willing to pay me in flour, sugar, and coffee, and if we was to get started pretty soon here, old Bessie would get me home by dark. Way these crazy people drive, I don’t like to be out in the wagon after the sun sets.”
“Bessie?” Jill asked.
“That would be my mule that pulls my wagon. Y’all’d have to ride in the back, seein’ as how the seat in the front only ’commodates me.”
“Yes, sir. We’d be obliged, and we’ll stock you up on supplies,” Sawyer said.
“Then I expect we’d best get goin’. Sun is up, and if we get there by noon, I can load up and get back by sundown,” he said. “Days are short this time of year.”
“How do you get out of this holler with a mule and wagon? Do you go back to the bridge?” Jill asked.
Tilly chuckled. “I got my ways. Bessie lives across the road on fifty acres I own over there. That’s where I keep my wagon. That side is pretty flat.”
He pulled a rope and a ladder fell down from the rafters. “Fancy, ain’t it? It was made for one of them houses with a ceilin’, but I got it fixed up so part of it falls down to here and the other part stays up there to the hatch in the roof. Y’all follow me.”
He scrambled up the ladder like an agile little boy. “Y’all comin’, or you goin’ to stand down there and look stupid?”
Jill started up with Sawyer right behind her. Where in the hell they were going once they reached the top was a mystery, but it was definitely the only way out, other than going back to the bridge. With her fanny practically in his face, Sawyer couldn’t control the pictures that flashed through his mind.
Her butt would fit so well in his hands, especially if they were both naked and in his big king-sized bed.
“Okay now, we hit this here button and watch what happens,” Tilly said.
A hatch opened up on the roof, letting in sun and cold air. Jill followed him on up the ladder and through the opening to find that the porch roof was level with the road over to the right. And right there was a swinging bridge about twenty yards long, wide enough for one person at a time.
“Cute, ain’t it?” Tilly said. “Let me get to the other side before you get on it. Don’t know how much weight it would bear. One at a time, and then we’ll hitch up Bessie to the wagon and get on our way.”
Chapter 15
Bessie, the old gray mule, had two speeds: slow and stop. A stick of dynamite could not have put any more giddy-up in her pace, but Sawyer wasn’t complaining. He could be walking all the way into town and dodging Gallaghers and Brennans on the way.
Jill smiled at the right places when Tilly told the first story, but when he started on the second one, her eyes grew heavy, and she slumped against Sawyer’s shoulder. He shifted his weight so that he could hold her steady with one arm.
Tilly looked back over his shoulder and smiled. “She’d be a keeper, son. I can see why the Gallaghers and the Brennans both want her. She’d be a prize even without the water rights on Fiddle Creek. Damn fools ought to know better than to kidnap her, though. They ought to be sweet-talkin’ her and bein’ nice. But then so should you. She’s got that special glow when she looks at you.”
Sawyer chuckled. “And what would you know about a glow?”
“Ah, now, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, son, and I’ve seen that look in a woman’s eyes one time before when she looked at me. I was a young man back then, and I ruined it all. Take my advice and don’t let go of the best thing you might ever have. Now where was I? Oh, yeah, I was tellin’ you about the day I found my little bit of land and why I bought acres on both sides of the road,” he said.
Sawyer listened with one ear and kept an eye open most of the time. Tilly didn’t seem to want or need any feedback. He wanted someone to listen, and Sawyer could do that and doze at the same time.
He awoke with a start when the wagon wheel fell into a hole, but Bessie brought them out of it with very little effort. Jill didn’t even move. She still had hay in her red hair, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. Lashes rested on her cheekbones, and the sunlight brightened the few freckles sprinkled across her nose. The curve of her hip coming away from the tiny waist intrigued him. Tilly was right about her being a looker, but he didn’t have a damn thing to offer Jill Cleary. He’d saved enough money through the years to put a down payment on a small ranch, but banks were a lot stingier with loans in today’s economy than they had been in the past. Still, there was something about her that made him wish he had everything Quaid and Tyrell did, so he could give her what she deserved.
Two trucks passed them on the way into town, and both times they honked and waved, but neither stopped. If it was the feuding families who’d kidnapped them and stolen his truck, they evidently didn’t want to tangle with Tilly or his mule, either one.
He groaned. “My truck. I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll have to call the insurance company and the police as soon as I buy another cell phone.”
“What about your truck?” Tilly asked.
Sawyer filled him in on the story, and Tilly shook his head. “Them bastards. Get you a mule and a wagon. Don’t have too many people wantin’ to steal old Bessie, and if they did, she’d probably bite the shit out of them. She can be a mean-tempered old bitch when anyone crosses her. Well, would you look at that? You can see Gladys’s store. In another five minutes, old Bessie will have us pulled right up to the door.”
Jill pulled away from Sawyer and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Are we almost there?”
“Just up ahead. Town sure looks dead, even for a Sunday. Ain’t seen but a couple of trucks since we left the holler. Did you get a little rest?” Tilly asked.
“I can’t believe I slept that long.” Jill rolled her head from side to side to get the kinks out. “Thank you for helping us, Tilly. It sure beat walking all morning.”
Tilly pulled the wagon up to the front door and hopped down off the wagon seat. “It’s dinner time. Reckon we might fix us up a bologna sandwich in the store before I start back?”
“I’ll fire up the cookstove and make you a steak, if you want it,” Jill said.
Tilly grinned as he held his hand up to help her down. “I got steak and pork at home. But it ain’t often I get a big old bologna sandwich.”
Jill put her hand in his. “With lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, and mustard.”
“Now that’s a meal fit for a king,” Tilly said.
Sawyer jumped down from the back of the wagon and groaned when his knees protested the treatment they’d been given in the past twenty-four hours.
“Best heed the advice I gave you, son. You ain’t gettin’ no younger.” Tilly laughed.
Jill found the spare key inside a fake rock in the flowerpot beside the door. She opened the lock and swung the doors open to a warm store. On her way back to the meat department, where she fully intended to slice a couple of pounds of bologna to send home with Tilly, she removed her coat and hung it on the rack.
“What do you want, Sawyer?” she asked.
“Ham and cheese, mayo, and everything you’re putting on Tilly’s sandwich. I’ll get a bag of chips and some pickles, and we can eat at the checkout counter,” he answered.
“That’s a sissy sandwich,” Tilly said.
“Not if you eat more than one to prove you are a man. I’m having two for starters, and then maybe a half a bag of those chocolate doughnuts right there,” Sawyer told him.
“You want two?” Jill asked Tilly.
“Yes, ma’am. I reckon that would be right fine,” he answered. “And”—he winked at Sawyer—“maybe I’ll have some of them doughnuts too.”
“What are you drinking?” Sawyer headed for the cold soft-drink case.
“Root beer.” Tilly didn’t hesitate for a second. “This picnic gets better and better.”
Once Tilly started eating, he didn’t say another word. He enjoyed his food without conversation. When he finished, he leaned the chair back and propped his boots on the counter. “Well, now, this has been a profitable trip, yes it has. The company has been good, but it is time for me to get on down the road. Bessie will be expecting to get out of that harness come dusk, and she does get bitchy if she doesn’t get her way.”
“Flour, sugar, and what else?” Jill asked.
“Dinner has paid for the trip, but I will pick up supplies while I’m here,” Tilly said. “You ring it up, and I’ll pay for my purchases. I’ll start out with two pounds of bologna, sliced thick, and one of them big old ham bones for Otis. He’ll pout because he didn’t get to come along with us.”
He filled a cart and Jill conveniently forgot to ring up several of the items. When she totaled his bill, he slapped his leg and laughed out loud. “Young lady, I want you to check me out every time I come in here from now on. Don’t be thinkin’ that you pulled the wool over an old man’s eyes. I had the bill figured, along with the tax, before you ever keyed in the first bag of flour. But thank you, and if you ever need a ride out of the holler again, you come on down to my place. Me and Bessie will take good care of you. Sawyer O’Donnell, you remember what I told you.”
“Yes, sir, I will,” Sawyer said.
“Y’all want me and Bessie to take you on to wherever you live?”
Sawyer shook his head. “Bessie needs to get on back home. It’s not that far for us to walk, and my legs need some stretchin’.”
* * *
It felt normal when Sawyer tucked her hand inside his as they started toward the bunkhouse. But then they’d gone past the simply friendship stage a while back. She wasn’t sure when, because it had kind of snuck up on her. Thinking about it didn’t scare her, but felt as right and comfortable as her hand in his.
She stopped so quick that he’d taken two more steps and dropped her hand before he saw what she was pointing at. He shook his head. It must be a mirage, because he was so weary, but there sat his truck, not a dent in it, no slashed tires, not even a busted taillight.
“Your truck,” she whispered. “Don’t touch it. The police will want to check for fingerprints.”
“We’re not calling the police,” he said. “And besides, they were all wearing gloves, so they wouldn’t have left fingerprints. This isn’t the Hatfields and McCoys. They would have already brought out the rifles and killed each other. That’s the way folks fought in those days. This is the Gallaghers and Brennans, and they do things different.”
He opened the door, found all three of his guns safely hidden away, his billfold, pickup keys, her purse, and both of their cell phones on the passenger’s seat. He was more convinced than ever that the Brennans did the job so they could swoop in and rescue Jill and she’d be indebted to them. Then the Gallaghers found out about it and figured they’d steal the Brennans’ thunder with the same plan. Why else would someone drive his truck home? Hell, a car thief wouldn’t even know where he lived. And why would they leave all the money, credit cards, and three high-dollar pistols in the truck? Yes, ma’am, it was the workings of the pig war, and if he could prove a single bit of it, they’d all be in jail for what they’d put Jill through.
She had her hands out, reaching for her purse and phone when he turned around with them. “You’re right about calling the police. Other than Tilly, who would back us up? And no one would ever believe such a wild story. I’m glad to have my purse and phone back. I need a shower, and then I might feel like a whole woman again. But believe me, Sawyer, they are going to pay for this shit.”
“I figured you’d want a long bath,” he said.
“That would take too much time. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
He opened the bunkhouse door for her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“You should have the first shower, since it’s your bathroom and since you let me snooze almost the whole way home,” she said. “So go on, and I’ll be quiet while I get cleaned up. I’ll even tiptoe when I’m done so I won’t wake you.”
“You go first. I’ll get the sofa ready and find the golf channel.” He grinned.
“And lock the door?”
“Little paranoid now, are you? They won’t try that tactic again. They’ll be holed up in their fortresses, plannin’ the next move. But for peace of mind, I will lock the door.”
She made a run through her bedroom, shedding her boots and coat and picking up underpants, flannel pajama pants, and an oversized sleep shirt. Then she grabbed her travel pack, a carryall that hung on the back of a door and contained shampoo, deodorant, toothpaste, a hairbrush, and her own shower gel and lotion.
She looked in the mirror before she got in the shower and gasped, “Oh. My. God.”
Makeup smeared, hair a total mess with hay still sticking in it, bags under her eyes. She quickly shucked off her jeans, shirt, and underwear, all of which still bore the smell of beer and cigarette smoke, and sighed when the pulsating hot water hit her tired and sore muscles. She tried to be quick, but it took three times of lather, rinse, and repeat before her hair quit shedding hay and the water ran clear. After seeing her reflection, she scrubbed her body down twice with shower gel and hoped the stink of sleeping in a barn that smelled of rat piss and cows was finally gone.
Nowyoubitchaboutthesleepingquarters, her inner voice said. Last night you were glad to have a roof over your head.
“Oh, hush,” she said aloud. “A roof didn’t keep it from smelling bad.”
She took time to towel dry her hair and run a brush through it, to recheck her reflection and sigh when the bags hadn’t disappeared from under her eyes, and get dressed before she left the bathroom.
“I started the fire so you wouldn’t freeze. I’ll get the sofa bed ready when I get out. My phone is turned off and charging. You might want to do the same with yours,” Sawyer said.
She sat down on the edge of Sawyer’s bed to wait for him. Together they would make the sofa into a bed when he finished his shower. It wasn’t that she couldn’t do that job alone, but that she was too damn tired to want to.
The heat was taking its own good time getting from the living area into his bedroom, and the wood floor was cold. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her toes were like icicles, sending shivers all the way up to her hair, still damp from the shower. Maybe she’d get warm if she pulled the fleecy blanket on top of his bed up over her. It would be a means only to get warm. Now, getting under the covers would be a different thing.
The blanket was like warm clouds on a hot summer day when she tucked her toes under it. She eyed the pillows. One still had the imprint of his head, so the right side was his. She was a left-side person. She promised herself that she would lie down on the spare pillow for a few seconds. It looked so inviting, and she was so tired. She’d be long gone before Sawyer finished in the shower. The water stopped running and she could hear his electric shaver going.
* * *
Sawyer could hardly keep his eyes open long enough to shave, but if he let his heavy dark beard go any longer, the electric razor would bog down trying to get the job done. The room should be semiwarm by now, and the golf channel was already on television. He’d bet dollars to pig shit that Jill had the sofa bed out and was already snoring.
He hurried across the cold floor, only to find the sofa empty. Evidently, she’d given up on him and gone to her room for a nap. Disappointed, he did a quick tiptoe back to his room and stopped in his tracks when he found her sleeping on his bed.
“Got to admit, it’s bigger and more comfortable than the sofa, and, darlin’, I might share my blanket, but you ain’t gettin’ all of it,” he murmured.
She rolled toward him and threw a leg over his body when he pulled the throw up over them. He slipped an arm under her and buried his face in her still slightly damp hair. It smelled like coconut and ocean breezes. It would be easy to get involved with Jill. They were together twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but if it didn’t work out in the end, they could wind up enemies. And he liked her too well to ruin their friendship.
Andyet, his inner voice piped up, dojust-friends sleep all tangled up like a bunch of baby granddaddy long-legged spiders?
“When they’ve been through what we have, they do.” He inhaled deeply one more time to take the scent of her shampoo with him into his dreams.
Chapter 16
Jill and Sawyer walked hand in hand toward the setting sun. The sand was warm on their bare feet. Sea oats waved in the gentle night breezes on one side, and the ocean’s waves gently slapped the sandbar on the other. Sandpipers darted back and forth with the surf, searching for supper, and gulls circled lazily above them. Everything was in its place, doing what it was supposed to do at the end of the day, and Jill’s heart was at peace.
She didn’t want to wake up, so she refused to open her eyes. It didn’t work. The beach was gone, and the only sounds she could pick up were Sawyer’s soft snores and the crackle of the stove wood as it burned. He was sleeping on his back with one hand up under his neck and the other arm around her shoulders.
Easing out of his embrace slowly so he wouldn’t wake, she propped up on an elbow and studied him without fear of getting caught: dark hair, those thick lashes spread out on his cheekbones, that full mouth that could kiss so damn well, and a broad, muscular chest. But there was more to Sawyer than his quick wit and his outer good looks; he was a hardworking, protective cowboy and had a kind heart.
His eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. “I thought I felt someone or something looking at me. I’m glad it wasn’t a man in a ski mask.”
“Think Tilly made it home okay?” she asked.
“I’m sure he and Bessie were home a while ago. It’s dusk out there,” he said.
“Are you my friend?” she asked, bluntly.
“I hope I’m not sleeping with the enemy.” He smiled. “What is this all about, Jill?”
“I was involved with a man for two years,” she said.
“And it ended badly and you need to talk about it? Why now?”
She sat up and crossed her legs. Indian style, her grandmother called it. “I don’t know. It seems like I should, so that the things that are supposed to end will and the sun will finally go down on it all, and…”
Sawyer pulled himself up to a sitting position, adjusted the blanket over their feet, and laid his hand over hers. “Okay, let’s talk. You go first, and then I’ll tell you about my heartbreak.”
She paused. “This is a bad idea.”
“How long since you broke up?” he asked.
“More than a year ago.”
“Have you talked it out of your system with a girlfriend, your mama, or your aunt Gladys?” he asked. “Don’t look at me like that. I have a sister, and I know how females need to talk everything to death.”
