Small Town Girl by Patricia Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

stuffed the folded paper back in his shirt pocket. "Give me your best offer, and we'll work from there. I'm on a tight budget and have to work out the cost differentials."
    "Charlie never had enough coverage," George asserted.
    "I have no assets," Flint countered. "Going broke paying too much insurance is a certainty. Getting sued isn't."
    Well, actually, given past experience, getting sued almost was a certainty, but he wasn't inclined to mention that. He'd decided to make one last call this morning before he started digging his own grave.
    As George talked liabilities and assets, Flint watched his waitress greet a shorter, sensible version of herself entering the shop. The brunette in a blue suit held a kid in each manicured hand, and Joella crouched down in that breath-stealing skirt to hug them.
    He almost missed his insurance agent's quote when Jo stood with a sexy swirl, the little boy's hand gripped in hers. Returning his wandering attention to business, Flint put on his good-ol'-boy grin and took the paper George pushed at him. "I'll crunch the numbers and let you know."
    "You sure you don't want a flying pig to go with that?" George asked in disgruntlement, sliding out of the booth. "I might even give you a discount to take it."
    "A purple cow, if you have one," Flint replied agreeably, clueless about the joke but willing to pass it on.
    "Damn good thing Jo didn't think of cows." Grumbling, George walked off, greeting the newcomer with a nod before departing.
    "Hey, Flint, come meet my sister." Jo poured coffee for her customers at the counter and nodded toward the newcomer.
    Warily, Flint left the booth and held out his hand. "Just call me, Flint, ma'am. Howd'ya do?"
    "Amy Warren. This is Louisa, and that's Josh." She indicated the kids with a harried nod. "Pleased to meet you, Flint. And bless you for letting Jo have Josh for a while. I knew Charlie would find a good man to take over. I have to run. I'll bake you some muffins this afternoon."
    Flint blinked and wanted a televised replay of what had just happened here as Amy Warren picked up her daughter and rushed out. He'd bask in the woman's approval, except he didn't know what the heck he'd done to gain it.
    "Here, take the kid while I get some more beans out of the back." Jo shoved the boy's hand into his.
    Flint was left staring into solemn blue eyes with ridiculously long lashes. A grimy thumb popped into the kid's mouth. He remembered his kids at that age. He'd give half his life to have that time back.
    "You're too old to suck your thumb," he admonished, sounding like his mother.
    The kid sucked harder.
    "Does it taste good?" Flint deposited the boy on the counter with the full intention of leaving him there and getting back to work.
    The kid offered his wet thumb for tasting.
    "No, thanks, I'm on a diet and had to give up thumbs. How about a doughnut instead?" He opened the case and selected a chocolate one.
    The kid reached in and helped himself to a sticky one.
    "Josh doesn't like chocolate." Jo closed the case as she passed by with the bag of coffee beans. "And now he'll have sugar all over everything and be hyper for hours. Better get a paper towel."
    "Tell me again why I'm babysitting?" Flint reached for the towels. Sugary fingerprints already adorned his shirtfront.
    "Because Mary Jean just had a baby, and Peggy goes to bed if she sneezes, and Louisa has a doctor appointment."
    "Okay, that's one inanity too many. I've got to work on the books." Not even admiring the way Jo's feathery earrings accentuated her pouty lips was sufficient to cope with her diarrhea of the mouth.
    Hauling the chubby cherub out of the way of his breakfast crowd before the kid ate up the profits, he escaped to get the phone call off his agenda.
    The office wasn't bigger than a storage closet. He dropped Josh on a cracked overstuffed chair, handed him pencil and paper, and took a seat at his desk. Vowing to buy a cordless speakerphone to bring some piece of the twenty-first