Hallo—” he stops himself, and I press my lips together—“ween meal for a cold night.” “Who’s Deanna?” “She’s my cashier.” “You have a cashier?” “No, well, I go to her line.” He bites his lip. “Every time.” I lift a brow. “Is that so?” He nods. “I trust her.” “Should I be worried?” He rolls his eyes. “She is young.” “Now I’m really worried.” “Her boyfriend, Ricky, works at the liquor store, and they have two kids.” “You sure do know a lot about her.” “She helps me,” he explains vaguely. “Helps you what?” “With you,”
