Free Nearly Departed (Spring Cleaning Mysteries) by JB Lynn Page B

before you come to the table," Dad whispered before heading back inside.
    I gathered the rest of the material s and stowed them in the van.
    " Do we have a deal?" Smoke asked.
    " Do I have a choice?"
    He tilted his head. "Sure. You can choose to have your parents find out that someone broke in and punched you, or you can knock that giant Miss Independence chip off your shoulder and accept my help."
    I batted my eyelashes and raised the back of my hand to my forehead in my best impersonation of a damsel in distress. "Well, when you put it that way…"
    Smoke 's jaw muscle twitched signaling his annoyance. "So we have a deal?" He extended his hand.
    It wasn 't like I had a lot of options. "Deal."
    I slid my palm against his, intent on delivering the briefest of handshakes, but he had other ideas. His hand enveloped mine in a firm grip , and he didn't release me when I tried to tug free. "Victoria, I—"
    " The deal did not include you calling me Victoria."
    " Sorry. I'm not trying to stop you from doing what you want."
    So he had heard me earlier.
    " I just want to keep you safe. Those frat boys were murdered…viciously. I just don't want the same thing to happen to you." Having had his say, he released my hand.
    " Dinner's ready!" my father yelled.
    I glanced over and saw that he had the kitchen door open and was standing on the steps. I wondered if he 'd seen Smoke holding my hand. I hoped not. I had enough on my plate without having to explain that I wasn't involved in any kind of romantic relationship with my employee. I'd leave that to the Stalker Chick.
    " Coming, Dad!" I motioned for Smoke to follow me.
    The first thing I noticed when we stepped inside the kitchen was that I could see the counters. I groaned.
    "What's wrong, dear?" Mom asked, taking some butter out of the refrigerator.
    " You put everything away."
    " I had time to kill while I waited for the lasagna to heat up."
    " You shouldn't have done that, Mom." She really shouldn't have.
    My mother fixed her gaze over my left shoulder. "You'll have to excuse Vicky, Mr. Smoke. I swear we didn't raise her to live like this."
    " Not a problem, ma'am. If you don't mind, I'd like to wash up before we eat."
    " Of course. Of course. The powder room is upstairs. First door on the left."
    " Thank you." Smoke brushed my arm as he moved past me on his way out of the kitchen.
    " Such a polite young man. How did you meet him?"
    " I told you. He's a friend of Mike."
    " Any friend of Mike is a friend of ours," Dad said, taking the butter from Mom, but not before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. He winked at me, which I took to mean he'd seen us holding hands and he approved, but he'd keep our "secret."
    I smiled weakly before turning to scrub my hands in the kitchen sink.
    "There's no rush on dinner. You have time to freshen up. You don't have to wash up in the kitchen." My mother's hint was less than subtle.
    " I'm hungry."
    " But…when's the last time you had dinner with a man other than your father or Mike?"
    " I'm not 'having dinner' with Smoke. You issued the invitation, you're the one having dinner with him. It's just happens to be in my home."
    My mother clucked her disappointment, grabbed the lasagna out of the oven, and marched into the dining room.
    I dried my hands on a paper towel and considered the kitchen cabinets. They were full of canned goods, which was not a good idea.
    Hearing Smoke 's footsteps clatter down the stairs, I tossed the towel and strolled into the dining room. Mom and Dad were already seated. There were three empty chairs at the table.
    " Where would you like me to sit?" Smoke asked.
    " Anywhere except at the head of the table," my mother said as though it was her house.
    Smoke looked to me for confirmation , and I nodded.
    " Salad, Mr. Smoke?"
    " Please."
    " Vicky has an aversion to china and porcelain, so I'm afraid dinner will be served on paper, plastic and Styrofoam," Mom said, dishing a huge serving of salad onto a plate.
    " Fine by me."