Page 52 of Deathmarch
Okay, her guardian angel was definitely still sleeping. “No.”
“Allie?”
“Last time I let you in, you arrested me.”
“I’m not here to arrest you.”
“Are you here in an official capacity?”
A pause. “I’m here as a friend.”
“Friends don’t arrest friends.”
“Could we please talk about this face-to-face?”
“No.”
“I brought you food.”
Dammit.
She opened the door, ready to give him a piece of her mind, but before she could, Harper held out a giant plate covered with aluminum foil in one hand and half a dozen plastic bags in the other. “Brought your clothes too.”
There was a patience to that man, a kindness,Shannon had said when talking about her Henry. Nope. Allie was not going to think about that.
“We’re keeping the suitcases,” Harper said, “in case the lab asks for another swab, but you can have what was inside.”
She let him in without a word, choking on her prepared rant as he strode past her.
He checked over her new T-shirt, the corner of his mouth twitching.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “What? No comment?”
“My father tells me the most important part of manly wisdom is knowing when to keep your mouth shut around a woman. I tend to agree.”
“Huh. You matured. Who would have guessed?”
He let that go too. He dropped the bags on her bed, then strode to the small table by the window and set down the food. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Since her stomach growled again, there was no sense pretending that she wasn’t. “Haven’t had anything since a boiled egg and a wedge of toast for breakfast.”
“No lunch?”
“The B and B doesn’t serve lunch.”
“You could have walked to Finnegan’s.”
“I wasn’t sure how your mother would feel about me showing up again. Wouldn’t want to end up with hot potato soup over my head.”
“My mother is sorry that she wasn’t as nice to you the other day as she should have been.”
“Sure she is.”
Harper nodded toward the covered plate. “She cooked this dinner.”
Allie walked over, lifted the foil, and bit back a groan. Baked ham, salt potatoes, and steamed broccoli—more than she could possibly eat, an entire family platter.
“This looks really good. So, no laxatives? For sure?”
