“THE VERY IDEA, MILES! As if I want a paramour! You shouldn’t encourage him. Next thing, he’ll be showing up at my door with a box of stale chocolates from the drugstore and flowers he picked from someone’s yard on the way over. Is this revenge for some past, forgotten transgression I’ve made?”
Miles grinned at her and she scowled back.
Her mood was not improved when her least favorite waitress at the diner cooed at her, “Well hi there, sugar plum! How you doin’, baby?”
Myrtle winced at the soppy condescension. “Tanya, I’m doing very well. But Miles here may have contracted some vile virus from a local psychic. It’s only his cabin fever that drives him out of his house. Here’s a helpful tip—seat us at a table where someone else can wait on us.”
Tanya’s eyes grew wide as she backed aw
