Page 8 of Bone’s Choice

“I know.”

“And I respect it.”

Her grin widened. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine.”

I stepped back against the doorframe. “What’s in the dish?”

“Lasagna.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve eaten today?” I asked.

“No.”

“Half a granola bar and three handfuls of Goldfish crackers.”

Pink’s face twisted. “Jesus Christ.”

“I just moved in,” I explained.

“That’s not an excuse.”

“I don’t own groceries.”

“You own a refrigerator.”

“Technically,” I agreed.

“Then you should put food in it.”

“I’ve been here two days.”

“Two days is plenty of time to buy food.”

“Are you always this judgmental?”

“Only when I’m awake.”

I laughed. God, I liked her. I’d assumed the first few weeks would involve a lot of talking to myself while I figured out where the hell everything was.

Instead, my neighbor had appeared on my doorstep with wine and lasagna. Wisconsin might not be so bad.

Pink leaned slightly to the side and looked past me. “Holy boxes.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you rob a moving truck?”

“That would explain a lot.”

“You’re doing this by yourself?”

I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers. “I’ve got two hands.”

“That’s not what I asked.”