tight in thought.
Naomi could almost see the battle happening in her.
Pride versus interest.
Judgment versus manners.
Then Malik Reed came striding across the street in grease-stained coveralls from his garage, glanced once at the bikes, and pushed right through the door.
“You still got biscuits?”
Naomi laughed before she meant to.
“Somehow, yes.”
“Then I’m continue reading …