Page 141 of Out Of A Fix

“Of course.”

“What on earth is with all the casseroles in the refrigerator?”

I waggled my eyebrows at her. “When your son got home, all the lovely women in the neighborhood brought him sustenance.”

“Is that right?”

“Handsome unmarried man,” I reminded her.

She grunted. “I would have brought sandwiches or a fruit salad if I was trying to court a man with kids.”

I shrugged.

“But c’mon, that’s food for a wake not food for popping over and bringing a snack.”

“I completely agree.”

“And some of that—I don’t think it’s good.”

“You know, I gave away like six huge casseroles.”

“There’s a tuna one in there,” she said with a shiver. “Who eats that?”

“You’re being prejudiced against tuna,” I scolded her.

She studied me and I couldn’t contain my grin.

“I was worried for a second that we weren’t going to be friends.”

“I hate it so much,” I confessed.

Her chuckle was warm. “That’s because it’s disgusting.”

“Feel free to get rid of everything. There’s tape on the bottom of the pans so the kids can return them.”

“I’ll make some pound cake to send with them.”

“That would be really nice of you as long as one stays here.”

“Fond of pound cake, are you?”

“I like lemon.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her.

“Okay, good, that’s all settled,” she announced, leaving the room.

When Luke returned, he said the Eena police station was swarming with federal agents in windbreakers or head-to-toe hazmat-looking suits.

“Jared Colter does not mess around.”

“No, not ever,” I replied.

Luke crossed the room to me then, and dropped down to one knee beside the chair.

“Yes, peasant?” I teased him.