Stephanie Bond – Baby, Don't Go (страница 13)

“Chances are,” he continued, “my brothers or I will be with the inspector, but in case he stops by on his own, you should know what to expect.”

“What will the representative be looking for?”

“Mostly, how we’re composting our leftover food and handling the recycling of our grease.”

She made a face. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” He lifted a stainless steel bucket of grease from the side of the grill by its handle, then with his other hand, rolled a large trash container marked “Food Only—No Meat” toward the rear door.

“I can get one of those,” she offered, but he acted as if he hadn’t heard her.

She pursed her mouth. If the man with the gimpy back wanted to go all Southern macho on her, then she’d let him. She smirked as he wrestled with the door while trying to manage the two containers. From his jerky body language, it seemed as if his mood was rapidly eroding. She followed him outside, at a distance.

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