Not only had I cooked for the girl, but she had somehow wrangled me into bringing in buckets of coal and slack, and lighting the fire for her, too. Persuasion was certainly a skill that Molloy had honed to perfection. Knowing that I shouldn’t be here, but not wanting to eat and run like a prick, I decided on half an hour being a reasonable amount to time to linger. “Right.” When the thirty minutes was up, I set my plate down on the arm of the couch and slapped my thighs. “I’m going home.” “No, you’re not,” she grumbled, hooking her arm through mine. “Molloy.” “No.” Shifting closer, she rested
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