Then his gaze shifted to the doorway where Barnaby sat, obedient as a statue.
And his face cracked.
Just a little.
A smile that didn’t belong to a man who’d spent months sleeping in a van.
“Well,” he rasped. “Look what the cold dragged in.”
“Hey,” I said. I tried to sound normal. I didn’t. “How you feeling?”
He snorted. “Like I got hit by a truck. Which continue reading …