stomach lining was tougher than it felt. He smiled, wondering if his teeth had actually been etched by their contact with the alleged coffee.
"It's wonderful."
His companion smiled. The beaming expression changed her from waiflike to almost angelic. Just for that look, it was worth the suspicion that his stomach would never be the same.
"Mom says you can't start a day without coffee."
"I... ah... feel the same way." Flynn tried to look casual as he held the cup in his lap, as far from his nose as possible. Would the stuff eat through the porcelain? "Could you get me a damp washcloth, do you think? The bathroom is through there."
"Sure." She hopped off her chair and trotted away. Flynn looked frantically for a place to dispose of the cup's contents. He didn't dare drink the stuff. He might survive a swallow, but a full cup would certainly be fatal. Water was running in the bathroom. He had only a moment. A quick tilt of his wrist dumped the liquid into the base of the philodendron that sat under a plant light next to the bed.
Was it his imagination, or did the plant shudder with the impact of the brew?
His guest came back into the bedroom carrying a dripping cloth, and Flynn set the empty cup down, trying to look as if he'd drained it and felt much better for the experience. He held out his hand, trying not to grimace at the icy cold, sopping wet cloth that landed in his palm. With an apology to the innocent philodendron, he wrung the cloth out in the pot before wiping his face with it.
The cold cloth didn't help much. His head still pounded and his eyes were still gritty. But his miseries were going to have to wait.
"I don't think we were properly introduced last night. I'm Flynn McCallister."
"I'm Rebecca Antoinette Sinclair."
Flynn's brows arched, meeting the black hair that fell onto his forehead. "Good grief. That's a mouthful. Do I have to use the whole thing every time?" He looked so appalled that she giggled.
"You can call me Becky." She picked up the empty cup and peered into it. Flynn wouldn't have been surprised to see that the bottom had been eaten away. "Do you want some more coffee?"
"No! I mean, it was delicious but one cup is my limit." He hoped his smile wasn't as sickly as it felt. The pounding in his head had returned a hundredfold. All he wanted to do was roll over in bed and die. Barring that, he was willing to try a long, steaming hot shower. He looked at Becky and knew that both plans were out of the question.
"I was not quite myself last night—"
"You were drunker than a waltzin' pissant." She said it so firmly that Flynn gave up any thought of arguing his condition.
"All right. I was drunk." He caught her eye and amended the statement. "Very drunk. But that's neither here nor there." He hurried on before she could argue the point. "I seem to recall that you were sleeping in the alley. Now, it's been a while since I was your age, but I'm sure I'd remember if sleeping in alleys was normal. Where's your morn and dad?"
"I don't have a daddy." Her chin thrust out, defying him to say anything. "He left when I was real little, but Mom and me don't need him. We do just fine on our own."
"Okay. What about your mom? Where is she? She must be worried sick about you."
The tough little chin quivered. "I don't know. She was s'posed to come home a couple weeks ago. Only she didn't."
Flynn swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He wished his head would quit hurting. "Where did she go?"
"She went away with one of her boyfriends. She's real pretty and she has lots of boyfriends. She was supposed to come back on Monday. Only she didn't."
"Don't you think you should have stayed at home, so she'd know where to find you?"
"I did for a while. But then Mrs. Castle said she was going to report me to the welfare people 'cause I'd been left. But Mama didn't leave, and if the welfare people take me away, I'll never see her again. Mama told me all about them. And I'm scared that some-thin' may
"It's wonderful."
His companion smiled. The beaming expression changed her from waiflike to almost angelic. Just for that look, it was worth the suspicion that his stomach would never be the same.
"Mom says you can't start a day without coffee."
"I... ah... feel the same way." Flynn tried to look casual as he held the cup in his lap, as far from his nose as possible. Would the stuff eat through the porcelain? "Could you get me a damp washcloth, do you think? The bathroom is through there."
"Sure." She hopped off her chair and trotted away. Flynn looked frantically for a place to dispose of the cup's contents. He didn't dare drink the stuff. He might survive a swallow, but a full cup would certainly be fatal. Water was running in the bathroom. He had only a moment. A quick tilt of his wrist dumped the liquid into the base of the philodendron that sat under a plant light next to the bed.
Was it his imagination, or did the plant shudder with the impact of the brew?
His guest came back into the bedroom carrying a dripping cloth, and Flynn set the empty cup down, trying to look as if he'd drained it and felt much better for the experience. He held out his hand, trying not to grimace at the icy cold, sopping wet cloth that landed in his palm. With an apology to the innocent philodendron, he wrung the cloth out in the pot before wiping his face with it.
The cold cloth didn't help much. His head still pounded and his eyes were still gritty. But his miseries were going to have to wait.
"I don't think we were properly introduced last night. I'm Flynn McCallister."
"I'm Rebecca Antoinette Sinclair."
Flynn's brows arched, meeting the black hair that fell onto his forehead. "Good grief. That's a mouthful. Do I have to use the whole thing every time?" He looked so appalled that she giggled.
"You can call me Becky." She picked up the empty cup and peered into it. Flynn wouldn't have been surprised to see that the bottom had been eaten away. "Do you want some more coffee?"
"No! I mean, it was delicious but one cup is my limit." He hoped his smile wasn't as sickly as it felt. The pounding in his head had returned a hundredfold. All he wanted to do was roll over in bed and die. Barring that, he was willing to try a long, steaming hot shower. He looked at Becky and knew that both plans were out of the question.
"I was not quite myself last night—"
"You were drunker than a waltzin' pissant." She said it so firmly that Flynn gave up any thought of arguing his condition.
"All right. I was drunk." He caught her eye and amended the statement. "Very drunk. But that's neither here nor there." He hurried on before she could argue the point. "I seem to recall that you were sleeping in the alley. Now, it's been a while since I was your age, but I'm sure I'd remember if sleeping in alleys was normal. Where's your morn and dad?"
"I don't have a daddy." Her chin thrust out, defying him to say anything. "He left when I was real little, but Mom and me don't need him. We do just fine on our own."
"Okay. What about your mom? Where is she? She must be worried sick about you."
The tough little chin quivered. "I don't know. She was s'posed to come home a couple weeks ago. Only she didn't."
Flynn swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. He wished his head would quit hurting. "Where did she go?"
"She went away with one of her boyfriends. She's real pretty and she has lots of boyfriends. She was supposed to come back on Monday. Only she didn't."
"Don't you think you should have stayed at home, so she'd know where to find you?"
"I did for a while. But then Mrs. Castle said she was going to report me to the welfare people 'cause I'd been left. But Mama didn't leave, and if the welfare people take me away, I'll never see her again. Mama told me all about them. And I'm scared that some-thin' may
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