Eleven
“Jesus Christ,” Kit shouted. “You scared us, you bastard.”
“Hey, you called me.” He pulled my door open and held out the delivery bag. “Be nice if you want your food.”
Kit leaned across me, snatching the bag from her brother’s hand. She threw him a twisted look before adding, “Did you bring the beverages.”
“Ah-ah-ah.” He shook a finger at her. “I didn’t hear the magic words.”
I looked at Kit, still leaning across me to reach Chris. She rolled her eyes.
“Alright,” she relented. “Get in.”
Then Kit pushed me out of the car. Oh, not like fully out and onto the ground, but hard enough to propel me to standing on the sidewalk. And into Chris’s arms.
“Evening, chicken lady.”
“Ha, ha.” I scowled and stepped aside, but my ire faded as soon as he flashed his dimpled smile.
His clear
