Chapter 6

“You yell if you want something else. It’s good to see you, Adam.” She left him alone and went back through the kitchen door.

Adam cautiously took a sip of the drink. His stomach at first threatened to rebel against the tart lime and salty taste, but settled down quickly. The next sip was fine. And the one after that

Three margaritas later and partway through the fourth, he was feeling better. Wasn’t numb better than devastated?

Rhonda had asked two more times if he wanted something to eat. He’d refused. She’d brought him an order of fried mozzarella sticks anyway. He’d only toyed with them—he didn’t want anything to slow down his smooth ride into inebriation. The bar was filling up by then, though, so she got too busy to hover, only occasionally throwing a worried glance his way.

Adam really should have expected she’d call for reinforcements. But when he looked up and recognized the designated rescuer looming over him, it was still a surprise.

“Hello, little one.”