“I still miss track and field from second grade at my old school, but Mr. Buchannan says if I keep training to make sure I’m fastest, I’ll be ready in spring. Sometimes we have these slow sports like badminton, and there’s like no running, and I just wish track and field was back already–”
“All right there,mo chride,” Alec said, putting his hand on Evanne’s shoulder. “Let’s not take up any more of Ms. Browne’s time, all right?”
“It’s no trouble,” I said honestly. “I always enjoy Evanne’s stories, but I won’t keep you two from setting a new record.”
“Shall we keep moving?” Alec asked his daughter.
She chewed on her lip, hesitating for some reason. Then she said, “Ms. Browne?”
“Yes, Evanne?”
“Can you come for supper at my house today?”
Shit.
Alec’s eyes widened, and his smile flattened. “Mo chride, I don’t think–”
“Please? It would be so fun.”
Shit!
“Oh, Evanne,” I stammered. “That sounds…wonderful, but I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“It’s not trouble, right, Daddy?”
She looked up at him, those big blue eyes of hers staring up at him. He rubbed his hand across his cheek. “No, I mean–”
“See, Ms. Browne?” Evanne turned those eyes on me.
“Evanne,” Alec fumbled. “It’s a bit short notice.”
“Please, Daddy? Please, Ms. Browne? I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise.”
Damn. How was I supposed to argue with that? I was good at sayingnoto a group of pleading kids, but this one kid…
I was at a loss for words as I looked at Alec. When I saw a similar expression on his face, I laughed.
“She’s a tough negotiator,” I said.
“Aye, lass. Tell me about it.”
The pet name sent a shiver up my spine even though I knew it wasn’t something personal to me. A part of me wanted to ask him if he was putting her up to this, but I knew that it was a bad idea. If he said he had, I’d know that I needed to spend the rest of the year avoiding him. If he said no, I didn’t even want to think about how much that would hurt.
“It would be okay, right, Dad? You can make apricot chicken!”
“Maybe Ms. Browne doesn’t like chicken,” Alec offered.
She frowned. “Why wouldn’t she like chicken?”
“Maybe she’s a vegetarian.” He glanced at me, humor dancing in his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
I had a feeling this was the sort of conversation the two of them often had.
“It means she doesn’t eat animals.”
“Chicken is an animal?” Her frown turned into wide-eyed surprise as she connected the dots. “Chicken is made fromchickens?”
