“How did you and my son meet?” Vincent is very laid back as he works on his meal, but the way he looks at me is shrewd and assessing. I get the distinct impression that not much gets by him.
I wonder if he can tell what his boys are doing beneath the tablecloth, just out of view. Ransom’s gentle caress is distracting, as is Rebel’s climbing fingers. His intentions are clear, and I jerk my leg to try and shake him loose, but he proves to be unshakeable.
