We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek #11) - Calle J. Brookes Page 0,78

The woman had some serious acting ability. “You’re good. Really good.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet. I gave Jake absolute fits as a teenager; then he shoved me into a teen theater group. I’ll channel my inner brat for a while. I bought a few other costumes. Just in case. So, Dad, go.” She whispered next to him. “I can take care of myself. You’ll stand out more if you hover. I got this, Jacobson. Go.”

Yeah, but that didn’t matter to him. Not when Allen wanted to take care of her instead. He just shook his head at her and walked away.

The woman grew more fascinating by the hour.

And more maddening.

They were in luck. There was one campsite left, and it was located near the back of the extremely small campground. It wasn’t the greatest stopping point. Mostly for travelers moving through the area, rather than vacationers. Allen was ok with that.

There was a laundry facility. After he got the van hooked up to the utilities and the top raised a bit for ventilation, he’d carry over the clothing she’d bought and throw it in the washing machines. Kill any possible cooties she would be afraid of.

He strongly suspected little Nurse Izzie was a bit of a germaphobe. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.

He’d seen the new packages of socks and underwear—and the two bags of disinfectant wipes, and bleach spray and hand sanitizer. There were also a handful of notebooks that she’d put in the cabinet she’d vocally claimed as hers. He was under strict orders to stay out of those notebooks. Under pain of death.

She’d tossed him one notebook of his own and told him to be satisfied; that was all he was getting from her. The sassy expression had almost had him grabbing her and kissing her right there.

Allen wanted to know what she was going to write in those notebooks. Far more than he wanted to know what was in those journals of Henedy’s he hadn’t read yet. Those journals were in the bag he’d grabbed out of his trunk at the Lannings’. He should have passed them on to Marshall, but he’d totally forgotten.

She practically squealed with joy when he told her about the laundry room.

Laundry.

He’d had women react less passionately over fourteen-carat diamonds than Izzie acted over laundry.

At first, he had intended to do the laundry himself and keep her inside. The woman needed to rest. Not do laundry.

Allen kept his mouth shut. It wasn’t worth arguing with his “son” tonight. They’d asked him who would be on the site tonight. He’d written down one adult and one child after a moment’s hesitation. It would be seriously difficult to trace them if he rotated Izzie’s age and gender every time they traveled to a new location. He’d grabbed a prepaid credit card at the store that morning, and had had her activate it using one of the disposable phones, under Barry Lanning’s name.

Maybe slightly illegal, but Allen wasn’t going to take any chances with her.

That number could be kept on file at campgrounds when needed for bookings. The rest of the time, he was going to pay everything in cash. It was the best he could do. He’d bought three other prepaid cards at a gas station halfway to their destination. He’d registered one in Linda’s name, one in Logan’s, and one in Jess’s. Tactical maneuvers like this weren’t exactly Allen’s forte. If he got caught, he’d talk to Elliot Marshall.

The risk was worth it.

“Let’s go. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

Laundry baskets weren’t all that heavy, but with her wrists injured, he wasn’t going to be stupid about it.

“We’ll toss them in the washing machine, then head back to the van and get it set up the rest of the way. Extend the slides. See how it actually works. I’ve never stayed in an RV before. Not a Class B van. We’ve always vacationed in hotels. Usually the Barratt chain.”

“Me, either. No one I knew could ever afford even one of those canvas ones that popped out. When Jake took me and Annie and Josey—Annie’s sister—camping, we did it the real way. With a tent.”

“We’re two highly intelligent beings. We should be able to figure it out.”

“I’m sure.” She shot him a grin. “I’m sure there’s an instruction manual here somewhere if we can’t. I’m a fast reader.”

He reached out and pulled the ball cap down over her eyes a bit more. His own reflection looked back at him from the mirrored glasses. “Pull