Free Without Compromise by Becky Riker Page B

wasted your trip over, but Dad stopped by fifteen minutes ago and picked up the salad himself.”
                  “Why didn’t you call?”
                  “I did. Your phone must be off.”
                  Josie dug it out of her pocket, “Oops.”
                  Molly handed Tag two containers, “Chicken and bok choy?”
                  “What’s bok choy?”
                  Molly pulled on a pair of shoes, “Do you care?”
                  “I guess not. Thanks.”
                  Josie seated herself and leaned on the counter, “Do you feed the whole neighborhood, Mol?”
                  “Nope,” she dragged her sister off the stool, “just you two. Now out,” she ordered. “I’m meeting Angelé for supper.”
                  Josie shuddered. Angelé and Molly always ate at haute couture places that served strange food at ridiculous prices.
                  “Better you than me.”
                  “I’ll tell her you said ‘hi,’” Molly hurried out the door and down the stairs.
                  Tag, food in hand, exited without complaint, pulled Molly’s door shut and checked to make sure it locked.
                  “You wanna come and share my bok choy? It looks like there’s plenty.”
                  “Sure,” she powered her phone back on. “Most of what Molly makes is good.”
                  He opened his own door, “What isn’t?”
                  “Good?” she took the containers and headed into Tag’s kitchen, “She makes this nasty stuff called keema.”
                  “What is it?” he followed her into the kitchen, unbuckling his belt as he walked.
                  “It has tofu in it.”
                  He lay his holster on the table, “That’s just wrong. Did she at least tell you what it was before you bit into it?”
                  “Nope,” Josie dug through his cupboards until she found some plates. “And it smells terrific, so you are really caught off guard.”
                  Tag laughed.
                  She started the microwave and then looked at him, eyes widening, “What are you doing?”
                  “Stripping,” he had opened his shirt and was pulling it from his waistband.
                  “So it seems,” she glowered at him.
                  “Relax. I’m just taking off the vest,” he unfastened the Kevlar and tossed it onto the table with his sidearm. “I promise not to embarrass you by displaying my incredible physique.”
                  “I appreciate that,” she gave the gear a little shove so she could set down the glasses.
                  Tag picked them up, “Give me a minute to put this away.”
                  Josie had supper on the table by the time he was back.
                  “Thanks,” he sat down across from her. “It looks like you’re hardly eating anything.”
                  “I actually already ate on set. It just looked too good not to sample it.”
                  She bowed her head and thanked God for the food. Tag was smiling at her when she lifted her head.
                  “What?” she picked up her fork.
                  “It’s really a part of you, isn’t it? Religion, I mean.”
                  “My faith definitely makes me who I am,” she agreed.
                  He took a bite, “This is good.”
                  “Do you always wear that much stuff when you work?”
                  “Like a sidearm and a bullet-proof vest? Yeah.”
                  “It looks heavy.”
                  “I think it’s about