Daddy Soda (A New Hampshire Mystery Book 1) by Mira Gibson

Author:Mira Gibson [Gibson, Mira]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2015-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Dale had been stewing for days. It was bad enough Hannah had let that sniveling son of a bitch into her life after he’d reduced her to a ball of tears, but he thought he could just waltz in here, pay off Mary’s medical bill like he was the second coming of Christ, and expect him to bow down, kiss his feet, and be grateful? Dale knocked back the warm dregs of his Coors, as scenarios of what he’d like to do to that man wormed their way through his mind.

Candice’s TV show had him distracted, though, and the five beers he’d consumed to take the edge off had his ideas a tad slippery. Following the mental momentum of catchy comebacks and solid right hooks was more exertion than inspiration. A laugh track blared from the TV set underscoring Charlie Sheen’s particular brand of degradation against his duck-face brother. Dale located the remote between the sofa cushions and hit the mute button, which sent the girls into an uproar.

“We’re listening to that!” Mary balked, hot on the heels of Candice’s complaining whines.

Defeated, he pressed mute so they could listen to their story while they did whatever the hell they were doing over there in the kitchen. Giant oven mitts concealed Candice’s hands and Mary had done the girl’s hair up in a high bun so strands wouldn’t fall into the - oatmeal? Oatmeal cookies? Smelled like oatmeal, but he couldn’t come up with any other meal that called for oats.

The shower had been running for a good long while.

“Anyone tell your sister to make it quick in there? Hot water doesn’t grow on trees.”

Mary wiped flour from her hands onto the apron she wore and started up the hall to address his gripe.

“Grab a fresh one on your way back?”

Candice hopped over, dainty puffs of flour billowing out as she clapped her mitts along the way. She sat and a cloud of it kicked up around her.

“Hey, girl.” He shook his empty at her and she tossed her mitts, took it, crushed it on the floor with her Keds so the thing would curve around her shoe then she took to hobbling around like an invalid. It wasn’t even in the ballpark of what he’d meant. “Why don’t you limp on into the kitchen, bring a beer on back for Daddy?”

She worked her way over, rising and pattering down in a strange rhythm that resembled her sister’s new gait. When she returned she had the remainder of his six-pack - two cold ones dangling from plastic rings. He tried to free one.

“Hold it firm now.”

She flexed her arm, trying hard, and he jerked it loose.

As he cracked the can open, she plopped down, crossed her legs, beer droplets rattling around in that can on her foot. The sofa had another stain coming to it.

“What do you make of all this?”

She stared at her show, the humor in Sheen’s sexual prowess lost on her.

Finally, the shower dried up and he momentarily wondered what the hell had taken so long.

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