He sits down next to me and crosses one leg over the other. “What kind of neighbor would I be if I didn’t offer you refuge when you need it?”
That would be really sweet if it weren’t for the fact that I’m pretty sure he has an agenda. It’s not like he’s running around door-to-door, offering Mrs. Heidegger and the other neighbors a safe haven. Then again, he hasn’t had s*x with them, either.
At least, I don’t think he has. Though the thought of this behemoth of a man giving the moth-balling-smelling Mrs. Heidegger the dining room table treatment I got earlier tonight is pretty hilarious.
“Since you’re here, I can have my men bring you your package. It must be somewhere on the grounds.”
I do my best not to flinch. Remember the plan. “No need. You can keep it.”
“I’ve got my own toys.”
M
