“Why didn’t you just eat down in town before coming back?”
“Uncle Oliver, obviously. He’s so annoying. I was in his car and he was in such a rush to get home to his wife that he didn’t even want to drop me off.”
At this point, Sara was honestly out of words when it came to Oliver. She’d never met a guy so completely obsessed with his relationship. He seriously shattered every stereotype she had about rich men.
“So why don’t you just have someone drive you back down now?”
“Go by myself?”
Patricia asked, “Want me to come with you?”
Sara’s whole face lit up and she nodded like crazy. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Patricia hesitated. She doubted Oliver would be thrilled about it.
But honestly… she wanted barbecue too.
“I’ll go talk to your Uncle Oliver and see if I can talk him into it.”
Sara beamed. “Okay! Go, hurry!”
Upstairs, the sound of the shower was still running. Patricia stood outside the bathroom door, debating whether to knock, then finally tapped lightly.
“Yeah?” Oliver called out.
“Give me five minutes.”
Patricia licked her lips, suddenly a little shy. “No rush.”
Oliver was famous for being ridiculously precise about time. If he said five minutes, he meant five minutes.
He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one in his hands as he dried his hair. When he saw Patricia sitting on the edge of the bed, he came over.
“What’s up?”
“She wants to go down and get barbecue.”
“Let her go then.”
Patricia looked up at him, eyes big and bright, lashes fluttering. “Can I go too?”
Oliver paused, the towel still against his hair. “You want to go?”
Patricia blinked, sweet and hopeful. “Is it okay?”


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