Peggy pushed the cane aside and closed the door until it latched. "If you expect me to continue to pay the rent each week, then I expect to have a fresh, hot breakfast of eggs, bacon, and your so-called famous grits at seven o'clock tomorrow morning, sharp."
"Who told you that my grits were famous?"
"You did," Peggy said. "Just now. Good night, Mrs. Hogan. I'll see you at seven on the dot."
Peggy threw the latch and ran over to the window. She threw the sash up and looked right to the drainpipe. Some of the brackets holding it to the wall were broken, and the pipe was pulled loose. On the other side of the lawn, she spotted Bo McDonough jogging for his parked car, carrying his shoes in his hands, his open shirt flapping in the night breeze.
How many times has he run into the night with his clothes in hand? she wondered.
She pulled the curtains on Bo. As frustrated as she was, there was enough grey matter overruling her hormones that she knew Bo McDonough wasn't the man for her. Being with him had been fun, but now it was time to get down to the business of finding her father. She had come here to meet him, but even though he was dead, she still needed to know the answer to the same question that had been burning inside her: Who was Frank Hogan and what secret was he hiding?
Fourteen
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Liquor & Love: McDonough Boys #1 Page 7