blew on the soup. After a couple of minutes of listening to her huff and puff, he told her the soup should be fine now.
Before he’d even chewed more than two bites of his steak, she’d finished the bowl and set the spoon neatly on the table.
“You still hungry?”
“Uh-huh.”
He handed her another biscuit. This time she ate it slowly, a bite at a time. Her big, blue eyes studied him. He wondered what she was thinking. He cut another piece of his steak and chewed slowly. After swallowing, he took a sip of the whiskey that had come with his meal, then leaned back in his chair.
“You mind staying here tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I’ve never had a little girl around before, so you tell me if you need anything. And if you want to know something, you just go ahead and ask me. You’re safe here. Mrs. Jarvis isn’t coming back.”
She set the half-eaten biscuit on the tablecloth and wiped her hands on her shirtfront. He could still see the faint outline of the bruise on her face. It made him want to find that wretched woman and show her what it felt like to be bullied by someone bigger and stronger.
“What’s your name?” the child asked.
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