“Eat up,” she said. There were no chairs.
“That’s it?”
“I had a big lunch. You’re welcome to go find food elsewhere.” She cracked the first can of beer. She was lying about lunch and knew she’d be hungry later, but she was still bristling at his sudden appearance and wasn’t in the mood to cater to him.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, as a shifter, don’t you need more food than that?”
“Told you, big lunch. What are you doing here?”
It was his turn to avoid the question. He reached for the second can, opened it, and took a long sip. “I still prefer wine,” he said. “So, you work at a care home?”
She nodded. “Orderly. I lift things all day, fold laundry, that sort of thing. It pays the bills.”
“You haven’t thought of doing something else?”
“What else is there? The job market su
