Celeste’s words after his father’s funeral came back to him—who takes care of the caretaker?
Ramon turned back to him. His gaze moved over Brandon’s arms and shoulders and he wore the faintest grin. “Thanks again for letting me leave him here. Let me buy you lunch one day next week, okay?”
“You don’t have to do that.” Brandon waved one hand, then leaned back inside the truck, just a little.
“I want to, really. I’ll check with you on Tuesday when I drop off again.”
Say yes. Give him a chance.
“Sure, we’ll work it out then. Good luck with the bird.”
“It’s less than an hour over to the rehab center. He should make it now that he’s settled and not in shock.” They clasped hands—the street shake goodbye—and Brandon held Ramon’s slender fingers for a second; cool and hot at the same time. He had to suppress a shiver.
* * * *