Double D rubbed his chest and belly. “I bet it was that fried chicken you fed me.”
“How much did you eat?”
“Not too much. Only what you put out there.”
Ace groaned. “You ate that whole platter?”
“Well, why d’you have to make it so damn tender and tasty?” Double D scowled at him, as if Ace was personally responsible for his indigestion.
Kristina met Ace’s eyes, and they both fought back a smile. “I’m going to have to try some of this famous fried chicken some day.”
“You just name the date. I’ll make a special batch all for you.”
God, when he poured on that Southern boy charm she wanted to melt.
Now that they knew Double D was mostly likely suffering from indigestion, the atmosphere in the van relaxed.
“So what happened at the hospital?” Double D asked.
“Well, they’ll take a histor
