Page 98 of Rock Chick Rescue

“How’s the kid?” he asked.

I stared at him, confused. “What kid?”

“The one you had the shootout with in the hospital,” he answered.

Out of nowhere, I felt the tears hit the backs of my eyes and I sucked in a breath to try and control them.

It was Eddie’s turn to stare at me.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Devin was a good kid and Donna was a good friend. She and her husband moved to Montana after he died, couldn’t face the memories and wanted a fresh start. If her last letter was anything to go by, the tactic wasn’t working.

I got myself under control and said, “You can take me home now.”

“I thought we were going to the grocery store.”

I looked away and sipped coffee.

“If Lavonne’s still at home, I’ll ask her to take me. Lavonne may be small and she can be nice but mostly she’s mean as a snake. No one will mess with her. You can go and do…whatever it is you do on a Saturday.”

He started the truck. “This Saturday, I’m taking you to the grocery store.”

Wonderful.

* * *

He tookme to the giganto King Soopers on Colorado Boulevard.

I grabbed a cart and hit the store at my usual pace, which was otherwise known as the I-don’t-have-time-for-this-I-had-to-be-out-of-here-twenty-minutes-ago pace.

I threw things in the cart on the trot and Eddie wandered. I lost him in the produce section and he caught up with me while I was price checking canned chili. I made my choice and started the dash but he caught my arm.

“Are we in a race?” he asked.

I looked at his hand on my arm and then at him. Then I lifted my hand and counted things off on my fingers.

“I have to get home and eat. Then I have to help Mom with her exercises. Then I have to pay bills and balance my checkbook. Then I have to make dinner because Mom and I try to have a sit down dinner on Saturday night no matter what. Then I have to…”

He moved in so close, my breath caught.

“Am I invited to dinner?” he asked.

Damn.

I walked right into that one.

“Don’t you have better things to do? Baseball games to watch? Criminals to bring to justice?”

He shook his head.

What could I say? No?

Okay, maybe I could say no, but that’d be rude.

“Oh, I guess,” I sighed (as ifthatwasn’t rude).

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