“Let me at least do that much for you.”
Suddenly Jack was too tired, too much in pain to argue. All he wanted to do was get home and put his aching body to bed. “Okay,” he agreed, then frowned at the boy in her arms. “As long as you keep that monster away from me for the duration of the drive.”
Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her arms tightened around the child. “He’s not a monster. He’s really a very good little boy.”
“Yeah, I hear that’s what they used to say about the Unabomber,” Jack retorted dryly.
Her blush deepened, and this time he thought it might be anger that colored her cheeks. She drew an audible breath, then pointed to the parking lot. “My car is over there. I’ll just go get it.”
Jack nodded and leaned wearily against the building, wondering if she could manage to get him home without any major catastrophes. He couldn’t help but feel a horrifying sense of impending doom.
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