Текст книги "A Highlander Christmas"

Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен

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Chapter Four

Luke slid into the booth at the Go Back Grill, the smell of greasy food all but making him salivate. Though he was still trying to recover from two months of living on nothing but trail mix and rehydrated soup, he had to admit the results felt pretty damn good.

When he’d seen himself naked in the bathroom mirror at Gù Brath that first night, he’d been stunned to realize that he’d lost over twenty-five pounds of fat. But he’d probably added ten pounds of lean, hard muscle, and for the first time in years, Luke was more than casually aware of the six-foot-two, broad-shouldered body that housed his brain. He really had been spending too much time in the lab, and once he got back to work, he’d have to remind himself to get more exercise.

“Beer?” the waitress asked just as he opened the menu.

“What do you have for imported wine?” he asked absently, scanning the various food offerings that were thoughtfully accompanied by pictures.

“Red, white, or blush.”

“What do you have for imported red?”

“That’s it. Red house wine, white house wine, or blush,” she said dryly. “You want anything fancier, you have to drive to Portland. We serve forty-two different beers, mixed drinks, and house wines.”

Luke finally looked up with a frown, only to come face to . . . chest with a set of creamy white breasts being pushed out of an indecently lowcut blouse by an impossibly tight black leather corset.

The woman belonging to the breasts lifted his chin with the end of her pencil, forcing his gaze up to her scowling face. “Red, white, or blush,” she repeated through gritted teeth.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he said, carefully lifting his chin off her pencil and looking back at his menu. “And your largest steak, a baked potato—loaded—and coleslaw. And,” he said a bit more forcefully when she started to leave, “a large salad, no onions, with blue cheese dressing.”

As she stomped away, Luke heard a soft giggle over the din of patrons. The young woman clearing the table across the aisle continued to laugh behind her hand as she watched his waitress leaving, then looked back at him.

Luke glanced around to make sure he was the one causing her amusement, then smiled at her. “Do you think I should give her a bigger tip for that stunt, or not leave her anything?” he asked.

The young girl tossed her rag in the bucket on her cart of dirty dishes, and walked over. “It took an act of Congress to get her into that uniform tonight,” she said. “Add to that how uncomfortable that leather bustier is, and you’re lucky she only used that pencil to close your mouth, instead of using it to poke out your eyes.” She suddenly held out her hand. “Hello, I’m Fiona.”

Surprised but utterly charmed by the beautiful young woman’s straightforwardness, Luke took her offered hand and gently shook it. “Luke Pascal.”

“Do you live here in Go Back Cove, Luke?” she asked. “Or are you just passing through?”

“I checked into the hotel across the street just a few minutes ago, but I plan to hang around awhile. I’m on sabbatical from work, and I thought I’d spend some time at the coast while I’m visiting Maine.”

“The winter ocean is so desolate and lonely-looking, don’t you think?” she asked. “Sometimes it’s just a bleak gray that softly ebbs and flows, as if it were waiting for its true love to appear, and sometimes it’s churning and angry, mad because that love is taking so long to show up,” she said dreamily, her sad smile and crystalline blue eyes making her face practically glow.

Luke decided she wasn’t charming, she was enchanting. She was beautiful, poised, and well spoken, and she reminded him of his baby half sister, Kate, who had a dramatic streak a mile wide and a romantic imagination to go with it.

“Table three needs clearing,” his waitress told Fiona as she thunked Luke’s bottle of Guinness—and no glass—down on the table without even looking at him. “If you don’t want to get fired your first night, you better keep moving.”

Completely unruffled by the waitress’s stern handling, Fiona reached in her apron pocket and handed her some money. “Here. This is from table three.”

“A buck?” the waitress growled, staring at the single dollar bill in her hand.

Fiona softly snorted. “I saw the man leave you a ten, but when he went to pay the bill, the woman with him stuffed it in her purse and replaced it with a one.”

The waitress turned her back on Luke to whisper to the girl. “I told Dave these stupid costumes would backfire on us. Go on, you better get hustling.” She started walking away with her, still whispering. “You have to stop fraternizing with the customers, Fiona. This is a pub, not a social club.”

“I’m sorry, Camry. I keep forgetting because I like meeting new people.”

Luke didn’t hear any more of their conversation as they moved away, but he did turn to stare after them.

Camry?As in Camry MacKeage? What in hell was a physicist doing working in a bar, dressed like an eighteenth-century wench?

Naw, it couldn’t be her. The probability of stumbling across Dr. MacKeage after being in town less than an hour had to be a million to one.

Not that Go Back Cove was a thriving metropolis or anything. And Fionacould even be the F person who had sent the Christmas card.

What had Grace called it? Magic? Serendipitous coincidence?

Luke picked up his beer and took a long swallow. Naw. He didn’t believe in anything but cold hard facts, and then only if he could back them up with numbers.

Still, if he found out Miss Congeniality had piercing green eyes—assuming he could keep his gaze on her face long enough to find out—then the numbers had just turned a bit more in his favor, hadn’t they?

“Here,” Camry snapped, slapping the dollar bill on the counter in front of Dave. “Put this toward the damages.”

“What damages?” her boss asked, frantically looking around.

“The damages I’m going to cause the next time one of your precious patrons stiffs me. I swear if I’d seen that woman swap my tip, I’d have chased her right out the door and stuffed that stupid dollar bill down her throat.” She tugged on the bustier, which wasn’t only cutting into her boobs but cutting off her breath, and glowered at Dave. “I told you these stupid uniforms would backfire on us. The men are leaving us nice tips, but the women with them are scoffing them up as soon as the men turn their backs. For someone who claims he’s trying to run a family pub, you seem to be moving in exactly the opposite direction. Women patrons do notlike being served by wenches with escaping anatomy, and mothers do notlike their children staring up their waitress’s skirt.”

Dave sighed. “Doris told me she had a similar problem with the tipping, but she also said that the unaccompanied males are leaving double what they usually do.” He grinned, shoving the dollar bill back across the counter. “So that evens things out.”

“I’ve nearly dropped three trays of food because of these stupid heels,” she muttered, shifting her weight to give her left foot a rest. “It has to be against insurance codes or something for waitresses to serve in heels. If we don’t kill someone with a falling tray, at the very least we could pop a tendon.”

“It’s not like they’re stilettos or anything; they’re only two inches high.”

“Doris is nearly sixty, Dave. She’s limping.”

He sighed again. “I already told her to change back into her sneakers, even if they do look silly.”

“You mean sillier than a grandmother showing enough cleavage to make a saint drool and enough leg to make a thoroughbred envious?”

He held up his hand. “Okay. Okay. The heels were a bad idea, and maybe the skirts are a bit short.” He shrugged. “But hey, the rest of my new theme seems to be a hit. The kids really like the eye patches and swords I’ve been handing out, and I think we burned up a blender tonight making Jolly Roger Zingers.”

He leaned over the counter toward her. “And I saw you prodding Fiona along a couple of times when she got chatty with the customers. Don’t. They like talking to her, and she’s giving the place a homey, friendly feel.”

“Did you also see that guy try to slip a twenty-dollar bill in her apron pocket?”

Dave straightened with a frown. “I thought she handled that quite well. Unlike your little stunt last month, she didn’t accidentallydump his drink over his head. She merely waggled her finger at him and scampered away.”

“My guy wasn’t trying to stuff money in my apron.”

Dave sighed louder and harder. “Tell me again why you work here?”

Camry tapped her chin with her finger. “Gee, let me think. Maybe because on Columbus Day they rolled up the sidewalks and closed the town when the tourists left?”

“Portland’s just down the road.”

“I prefer the peace and quiet of this place.”

“That’s right, Dr.MacKeage, I forgot you came here from Florida.” He snorted. “The problem with you brainy types is that you think we working stiffs don’t know how to run our own businesses.”

Camry gaped at him. “I am not an academic snob. The only reason you even know I hold a doctorate is because your stupid employment application asked me to list all my schooling.”

“To which you had to add an entire page for all your degrees.” He suddenly stared over her shoulder for several seconds, then glanced down the bar. “Betty,” he said, motioning the bartender closer. “No more drinks for booth nine, okay? All four of those guys have had enough. And if they give Wanda any trouble, you have her come see me and I’ll handle them.”

“Okay, Dave,” Betty said, returning to the blender she’d left running.

“And your point is?” Cam asked Dave the minute she had his attention again.

“What were we talking about?”

“I believe you had just implied I’m a snob.”

“Oh, come on, MacKeage,” he said with a sudden smile. “You need to lighten up. It doesn’t look good in front of the staff when you give the boss grief. And I don’t want to have to fire you, because”—he leaned closer—”I actually like you,” he whispered, his smile widening as he straightened back up. “You sort of remind me of a Jack Russell terrier I used to have that was always growling at me, as if she needed a good fight to keep herself entertained.”

“I remind you of your dog?”

“I loved that dog, God rest Pip’s soul,” he said with a laugh. He arched his bushy eyebrows at her. “You want to know what finally settled her down?”

“Not really.”

“I got her a boyfriend, which in turn got her a litter of babies. Mellowed my little darling right out, those pups did.”

Cam just gaped at him.

“So the moral of this little story,” he had the audacity to continue, “is that instead of scowling at your customers, maybe you should trying smiling at them.”

She snapped her mouth shut and scowled at him.

He sighed. “You’ve been living in Go Back Cove and eating here for what . . . seven or eight months? And working for me for two? And in all that time, I have never once seen you with a date.”

“Maybe I’m gay,” she snapped.

Dave chuckled. “Nope. It’s not the girls I see you watching, it’s the men. Oh, you’re interested, all right. You’re just too scared to actually play with the big boys.”

Camry made a point of visually searching the wall behind the counter, even going on tiptoe to look down the length of the back wall of the bar.

“What are you looking for?”

“Your degree in psychology.”

His laughter came straight from the belly as he took the slip and money from a customer who’d walked up to pay his bill. “My degree is from the school of hard knocks, kiddo, and it took me thirty years of tending bar to earn it.” He hit some buttons on the register, then shot her a wink. “You watch Fiona working the room tonight, Cam, and maybe you’ll learn something. That girl’s got a gift for making people smile. How was your dining experience?” he asked the man, handing him his change.

“Delightful,” the customer said, glancing over at Camry—specifically at her chest. “I’ve heard the food here is good, but I especially like the uniforms.” He cleared his throat. “Except maybe they don’t work so well on all your waitresses.” He leaned closer to Dave and lowered his voice so Camry wouldn’t hear.

But of course she did.

“That older waitress,” he continued in a whisper. “I kept expecting the laces on her corset to pop and maim someone, and she tripped and nearly spilled beer on me.”

“We’re rethinking the uniforms.”

“Or you could just hire younger waitresses,” the lech suggested.

“Doris is the prettiest woman here,” Camry growled at him. “And the best damn waitress we have!”

The man stepped away in alarm, and all but ran for the door.

Dave sighed again. “Will you lighten up?”

“Will you get real?” she said, spinning away and heading for the kitchen.

Honest to God, she really didn’t know why she worked here.

Other than that it might be entertaining.

And she was notlike some stupid old Jack Russell terrier!

She was a happyperson, dammit, right down to her blistered toes.

Chapter Five

“Good Lord, what’s wrong?” Fiona asked, pushing her busing cart into the kitchen and stopping beside Camry.

“What? Nothing. Why?”

“Because you look like you want to punch someone.”

Camry took a deep breath—at least as deep as her stupid corset would allow—and forcibly shook off her foul mood. “Sorry. I was just wondering why I work here.”

“Because you love people.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do, silly,” Fiona said with a laugh, giving her a playful punch on the arm. “You spend all week with a bunch of dogs, so you need to work here on the weekends to remind yourself that you’re human.”

“My dogs are better behaved than some of the customers.”

“You’d be bored to tears if you spent all your time around well-behaved people. That’s what I like best about you, Cam. You say what you think, and you back up what you say with action.”

“I do?”

“Sure. Take me, for instance. I know you’ve been wanting to browbeat my name out of me so you can call my parents, but you’ve been treating me like an adult even though I’m not one. That’s why you can’t bring yourself to go through my backpack to find my ID.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“Because I’m still here, aren’t I? And you know why? Because I remind you of yourselfwhen you were my age, and that’s why you’re so determined that I’ll call my parents on my own.”

Camry shot her a lopsided grin. “Did you say you were sixteen, or sixty?”

“MacKeage! Your order for table ten is getting cold,” the cook shouted from the serving station. “Where in hell’s your pager? I’ve been beeping you for ten minutes.”

Cam felt at the back of her waist. “Damn, it must have fallen off. It’s probably kicking around under some table,” she muttered, heading to the heat lamps to pick up her order. “Or more likely in some four-year-old’s pocket.”

“I’ll help you look for it,” Fiona said, abandoning her cart to follow her into the dining room. “I’ll start searching the floor while you take Luke his food.”

“Luke?” Cam repeated, weaving her way through the crowded pub.

“The big dreamy guy at table ten,” Fiona explained, stepping around her to run interference when a young child bolted past them, waving a plastic sword and wearing an eye patch. She redirected the toddler back to his parents, then looked at Cam. “You don’t think he’s dreamy? His eyes are a really deep navy blue, and his hair’s almost long enough to tie back. I love long hair on a man, don’t you?”

Cam glanced toward table ten. “He’s old enough to be your father.”

The girl made an exasperated sound. “I don’t think he’s dreamy for me,silly, I think he’s perfect for you. But he’s only going to be in town a short while because he’s on sabbatical, so you need to work fast. You should give him your phone number when you bring him his bill.”

Camry nearly dropped the heavy tray she was holding. “What?”

Apparently thinking that was a rhetorical question, Fiona started running interference again, occasionally bending over to search under the tables. Deciding she better have a talk with her roommate on their ride home from work, Cam followed her toward the sidewall of booths. But just as Fiona walked past table ten, a hand suddenly snaked out from table nine, grabbed the young girl’s arm, and pulled her into the booth of drunken men.

Fiona’s yelp of surprise was also laced with pain when she hit the corner of the table. Without skipping a beat, Cam rushed forward with every intention of cleaning the jerk’s clock. Only it was at that exact moment that table ten’s Dream Guy shot out of his own booth and also launched himself at the jerk—his shoulder knocking the tray full of food out of Camry’s hands and sending it crashing to the floor.

Pandemonium ensued when two of the jerk’s drunken buddies scrambled out to go after Dream Guy at the same time that Camry also headed into the fray. Only her damn heels got tangled up in the broken dishes and food, and she ended up fallinginto the fight instead.

Her head exploded in pain when her cheek slammed into one man’s elbow, which was cocked back to take a swing at Dream Guy. The force of the backward punch threw her into a nearby table, scattering dishes and food over people trying to scramble out of the way.

Camry straightened and spun around, frantically searching for Fiona in the tangle of bodies. She spotted the girl preparing to drive a fork into the arm of the jerk who was trying to pull her out from under the table by her hair. Cam screamed the girl’s name at the top of her lungs, hoping Fiona could hear her over the sound of crashing dishes and the growls and grunts of the fighting men.

But it was too late. Even though Fiona tried to halt her downward swing as her eyes snapped to Camry, the fork still found its target. The ensuing shout of pain came just as another one of the drunken men flew backward, sending Camry to the floor with her own cry of pain as her ankle twisted under the weight of his landing on top of her.

Almost as quickly as it had begun, the pandemonium ceased when Dave, along with several of the grill’s regular male patrons, started grabbing men by the scruffs of their necks and pulling them off Dream Guy and Camry.

Fiona immediately crawled over and lifted Cam into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around her protectively. Cam snatched the fork out of her fist just as Dave came over and crouched down in front of them.

“Damn, are you girls okay?” he asked, brushing hair back off Camry’s face.

Cam jerked away when his fingers touched her throbbing cheek. “I just want to sit here a minute, okay?” she said shakily, carefully straightening her right leg.

“I’ve been stabbed!” a man shouted. “I’m bleeding! That bitch stabbed me!”

Dave looked down at the fork in her hand, which Camry immediately tossed under a nearby table. “You stay put until the ambulance gets here,” he said, getting to his feet and going over to the loudly complaining victim.

Fiona knelt behind Camry and pulled her against her for support. “Other than that shiner that’s already starting to swell,” Fiona said, “what else hurts?”

“My ankle is throbbing like hell,” Camry whispered. She turned to look up at Fiona. “Mind telling me what possessed you to stab that guy with a fork? You don’t think that was a little . . . extreme?”

Fiona shrugged. “My dad always told me that if I’m ever accosted, I’m supposed to see everything as a weapon, and not hesitate to use it.”

“Your father actually said that?”

She nodded soberly. “He said that I better not think like a woman, but like a warrior.” She suddenly smiled. “And that a woman’s greatest weapon is surprise, because men don’t expect us to fight back.”

Camry blinked up at her. “Your dad and my dad must have read the same book on raising daughters. Oh, God, I can’t breathe,” she groaned, twisting to face forward, trying to get air in her lungs as she frantically tugged on the laces of her bustier. “Help me get this stupid thing off.”

Fiona tried to untie the lacing on the front but couldn’t work the knotted bow free. “Luke,” she cried as he sat down next to them, holding a napkin up to his temple. “Help me. Camry can’t breathe.”

“Cut this damn thing off,” Cam panted, trying to find a position that allowed her to breathe. “Ow! My ankle!”

“Stop thrashing around. You’re making it worse,” Luke said. He dropped the napkin so he could hold her down, then unsnapped a pouch on his belt with his other hand. He pulled out a multitool and opened it to expose the blade. “Help me, Fiona,” he instructed, tugging on the knotted bow. “Hold her chest out of the way.”

Camry covered her own breasts. “You can’t see what you’re doing with blood in your eye,” she said, worried he might cut more than just the laces.

While she covered her precious anatomy with her hands, Fiona used her own hands to block Cam’s view of what he was doing. “He won’t cut you, I promise,” the girl said with all the bravado of someone whose boobs weren’t inches from a sharp blade.

Camry felt several tugs on her torso, a very welcome release of pressure, and all of a sudden she could breathe again! She tried to roll to her side, but discovered that Luke was straddling her hips. His weight suddenly disappeared, but instead of standing up, he rolled to lie flat on the floor beside her.

“Slow down your breathing or you’ll hyperventilate,” he instructed, also taking labored breaths. “Damn, I think I have a couple of cracked ribs.”

Fiona lifted Camry into a sitting position again, wedging herself behind her for support as Luke rolled toward her with a groan, then rose to his knees.

“Where else are you hurt?” he asked.

“She twisted her ankle,” Fiona answered for her.

Luke sidled down to her legs and very gently slid her shoe off her right foot. It was as he went to look up at her that his gaze suddenly stopped, and Camry realized he could look right down her unconfined blouse! But when she slapped her hand to her chest and his gaze lowered, she realized he could also look right up her skirt! She started wiggling as she tugged on the hem, trying to pull her skirt down as she also tried to hold up the front of her blouse.

“What isyour problem?” he snapped, falling back when her flailing left foot kicked his thigh—apparently quite close to his groin.

“Nothing!”

“I’m pressing charges against whoever stabbed me,” Fiona’s victim cried from three tables down.

Still holding her blouse to her chest, Camry dropped her head to her knees with a groan. “Honest to God, I am neverstepping foot in another bar,” she muttered, remembering the last time someone had wanted to press charges against her, after a barroom brawl in Pine Creek last summer.

Fiona patted her back. “I’ll tell Dave I was the one who stabbed that jerk.”

Camry straightened. “You will not. If the authorities find out your age, then Davewill get in trouble.” She suddenly smiled. “Unless you want your parents to get a call from the police, telling them their missing daughter is sitting in jail. Just think of the lecture dear old Daddy’s going to give you then. You won’t see daylight for years.”

“What do you mean, missing daughter?” Luke asked, his gaze darting between Cam and Fiona. He finally settled on Fiona. “Did you run away from home or something?”

“Or something,” Fiona said.

Luke’s gaze snapped to Camry. “You knowshe’s a runaway, and you haven’t done anything about it?”

“I suppose I could have left her on the beach. Or let her hitchhike to Portland so she could stay at a homeless shelter.”

Luke reached in his pocket, pulled out his cell phone, and handed it to Fiona. “You have to call your parents right this minute, young lady. They must be worried sick about you!”

Camry couldn’t believe how dense the guy was.

But even more, she couldn’t believe that Fiona actually took the phone, flipped it open, and started pushing buttons.

Her mouth gaping in shock, Cam blinked at Luke.

He shot her a smug smile. “Apparently she responds to maleauthority.”

Fiona suddenly handed the phone back to Luke.

“You didn’t call them!”

“I will. Eventually.” She gave him an equally smug smile. “But I did add Camry’s number to your phone list. Just in case you want to call her, seeing as how you’re going to be here for a while and don’t know anyone.”

Luke looked down at his phone. He started pushing buttons with his thumb, his eyes suddenly widened, and he snapped his gaze back to Camry.

Cam held out her hand. “Give me that.”

He flipped the phone closed and shoved it in his pocket.

“I’m changing my number first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay, the cops and the ambulance are here,” Dave said, walking over. “Folks,” he said to the dining room of stunned patrons. “I’m sorry for the disturbance. If you stop at the counter on your way out, my staff will give you vouchers for a free meal. First, though, I believe the police wish to speak with each of you before you leave. You all come visit the Go Back Grill again, okay? And bring your friends!”

He crouched down in front of Camry. “Christ, Cam, that’s one hell of a shiner you got there.” He scowled at her ankle. “And you need to get that foot X-rayed. The ambulance will take you in, and you just tell them to bill me.”

“All I need is an ice pack, because it’s only sprained. And I am not riding in an ambulance. They’re for people having heart attacks or bleeding to death.”

His scowl darkened. “Don’t make me use my boss voice,” he said, dismissing her by turning to Luke and holding out his hand. “Dave Bean, Mr. . . . ?”

“Pascal,” Luke said, taking his hand. “Luke Pascal.”

“I’m sorry, Luke, that you got caught up in this mess. But I did see you come to our little girl’s rescue,” he said, nodding toward Fiona, “and I thank you. Most people aren’t so quick to get involved in other people’s business.”

Luke shrugged. “I have a kid sister about the same age as Fiona.”

“Food’s on the house for as long as you’re in town, Luke.” Dave looked at Luke’s bleeding cut, and the way he was cradling his ribs. “You go with Cam in the ambulance and let them check you out at the hospital. That cut might need stitches, and you might have some cracked ribs. I’ll cover the medical bills.”

He turned back to Camry. “You did good, kiddo. Don’t worry about anyone pressing any charges. By the time I’m done with those four, they’ll wish they’d driven straight through town.” He flushed and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “You take as much time off as you need to get back on your feet. You want me to call anyone? Your family, maybe?”

“No!” Camry said a bit more emphatically than she’d meant to, causing Dave to flinch. “I mean, thanks, but I’m really not hurt that badly.” She smiled over at Fiona. “And I happen to have a roommate at the moment, who can wait on me hand and foot for a few days.”

Two EMTs came over, wheeling a gurney. One of the men crouched down in front of Luke and pointed a tiny flashlight in his eyes. The other one did the same to Camry. He must have decided she was going to live, because he grinned at her. “Can you hop up on the gurney yourself, or are you willing to risk being dropped if I go weak in the knees when I pick you up?”

“I want to change into my jeans and sweater before I go anywhere.”

“Why? They’re just going to take everything back off you at the hospital.” He scanned his gaze over her costume, then grinned at her again. “What you’re wearing is just lovely. And anyway, Doc Griswell’s working the ER tonight, and he’s got a thing for legs—I mean ankles. I bet he puts you ahead of the stab wound and facial cut.”

Camry made an effort to stand, but the ruggedly built EMT suddenly lifted her in his arms, stood up, and set her on the gurney. “It’s a good thing you didn’t crack a smile,” he said dryly, spreading a blanket over her, “or I really would have gone weak in the knees.”

“Fiona, why don’t you go get Camry’s purse and clothes,” Luke suggested as soon as his EMT helped him to his feet. “And you can ride in the ambulance with her. I’ll follow in my car so I can bring you both home after.”

“We’ll take a taxi back,” Camry told him, holding the blanket up to her chest. She looked at Luke’s EMT. “He shouldn’t be driving, should he?”

“No.”

Camry finally found her smile, and she made sure it was damn smug. Fiona might have put the idea in Luke’s head that she might welcome his attention by giving him her number, but she’d be damned if she was entertaining some bored tourist on sabbatical.

“I’d offer to drive you home from the hospital,” Dave said, walking over to the gurney. He waved toward the police talking to people lined up to get their vouchers. “But I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up here until the wee hours.” He stepped closer. “Wipe that smirk off your face, MacKeage. The guy did rescue our little girl, after all,” he whispered.

“I don’t like pushy men,” she whispered back. “And I sure as hell don’t want to encourage them by being nice.”

Dave snorted. “I can see that’s been working well for you.”

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