LITMIR.BIZ

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      Probably a more comfortable place than the motel.

      Definitely better situated for keeping an eye on Daisy and Dahlia.

      As well as their foster mother.

      Are you freaking crazy? The kids don’t want you around; you need to keep your distance from Sophy; and what the hell does comfort matter to a Holigan?

      “It’s complicated,” he replied at last, the answer as well suited to his thoughts as her question.

      She came to stand a few feet away, making the warm day hotter. “Would you like to come over for dinner tonight so you can meet Dahlia?”

      His gaze shot to her. A Marchand not only inviting him inside her home but to pull up a chair to the table and eat with them. Was she freaking crazy? There would be hell to pay with her parents, maybe even with the social worker. He doubted hanging out with disreputable uncle was on the social worker’s list of acceptable activities for the kids.

      “You can’t meet one and not the other. Daisy would lord it over Dahlia to make up for not getting to go to school, and you don’t want to see Daisy lording anything over Dahlia. About six? We eat early so they can have a little downtime before I have to wrestle them into the bathtub and pajamas and bed.” She made a wry face. “They never had a regular bedtime before, and they’re not loving it.”

      If he said yes, it would be one more stupid, dangerous agreement he’d made in the past day and a half. He hadn’t had much chance at saying no to Special Agent Baker or Craig, but he could turn down Sophy. He could suggest coming after school to meet Dahlia, who wasn’t likely to be any more welcoming than Daisy. He could even suggest they go out to dinner instead—somewhere about twenty miles away from town. He had a reputation to live down. She had one to protect.

      But he didn’t try to get the words no, thanks out of his mouth. He knew a losing battle when he saw it. All he could do was be on guard. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you at six.”