“Hang it …” murmured Paul, taking the shirts under his arm and heading back to his abandoned baggage. He was shocked to see a frivolously dressed young woman kneeling next to it.
“Excuse me, but that is mine.”
The woman scornfully curled her lips.
“I know, Pa, but your stuff fell out, I was just cramming it back in.”
Paul was not surprised that she called him by that name; with his two-meter height, hundred and forty kilos, and warm brown eyes, anybody would take him home as a surrogate dad.
“Very kind of you, but I’ll get the rest myself.”
“As you wish, Pa,” she said, lifting her hands up and stepping back, “your will be done.”
Paul had an uncomfortable hunch, but he didn’t know what he could do about it for the moment. The ghost of that strange smile on the woman’s face didn’t go
