“You probably think I’m given to exaggeration, but I know a lecher when I see one. And this guy has a big-bucks car. A sexy twoseater foreign job. Long and low and black. Man, would I ever like to have a car like that. I tell you, his car is evil. It could probably get airborne.”

Daisy walked into the foyer and found Steve Crow standing on her front porch. He was holding several bags, and he smiled at her through the screen door.

“Decided I needed to tell you some more things about the job,” he said. He held the bags up for her inspection. “I know I’m coming unannounced at an awkward time, so I brought supper.”

“Supper?” Kevin said to Daisy. “Maybe he’s not so bad, after all. Besides, you could probably use a lecher in your life. I know I sure as heck could use some food in mine.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. Her little brother drank a gallon of orange juice and a gallon of milk a day. It took him two days to go through a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, fifteen minutes to eat a half gallon of ice cream, twenty minutes to eat a chicken, and if she bought a pie, it was gone before she had a chance to take the rest of the groceries out of the bag. “Don’t you ever think about anything except food?”

“Sure. I think about girls. That’s why I eat so much—substitute gratification. I have all this nervous energy. Us fourteen-year-olds are just a hotbed of hormonal activity. That’s how come I’m so good at recognizing a lecher. I figure if I work hard enough at it, I could grow up to be a lecher someday.”

Daisy grimaced at her brother and opened the door to Steve. “This is very nice of you. I was just about to defrost something.” She motioned to Kevin. “This is my brother Kevin. He’s staying with me while my parents are away. My dad is being transferred to San Antonio and my parents are in Texas house hunting.” Truth was her dad had been a victim of downsizing. Daisy’s parents had never been rich, but they’d always managed to pay the bills…until two years ago when after twenty-two years at Gruber Printing her dad had been let go. Finally, the job search had paid off, but it involved relocation.

“Boss car,” Kevin said.

Steve could see the family resemblance. Same blond hair and blue eyes. Same nose, same wide smile. That was where the similarity stopped. Kevin was all gangly arms and legs, and he had feet that looked like they belonged on Bozo the Clown. Fourteen years old…the hungry age. Steve decided to change his strategy for the evening. He handed Kevin a bag. “You like ribs?”