JJ
Marissa called while I was wiping down my station after my last client.
“Do you have ten minutes?”
That question had become one of my least favorite combinations of words.
I glanced through the front windows. The shop was technically closed, Stitch had already left, and Nixx was somewhere in the clubhouse arguing with Smitty about whether a carburetor problem counted as an emergency. Benny had taken Millie home to finish a reading assignment she had spent all afternoon pretending did not exist.
“I have ten.”
“Good. Donald’s attorney sent over a settlement proposal.”
My hand stopped over the disinfectant bottle. Havoc offering to settle anything immediately made me suspicious, but I forced myself to sit behind reception and listen before deciding what I thought.
Marissa explained
