Pushing all reservations aside, I offered Alex a lame nod. “Sure. It’s hard to resist pizza. I’m starving.” He gave me a funny look, one that almost said, “Is that all that’s hard to resist?” but I turned away, my gaze shifting to the door. I walked over to it and hung the Out to Lunch sign, then ushered up a silent prayer, asking the Lord to send guardian angels to watch out for me should my father see me going into the restaurant owned by his archrival. “Should we walk or drive?” Alex asked. “I’ve got the delivery van. You could ride in style.” I shrugged. “Seems pointless to drive, especially on such a pretty day. It’s only seven blocks to Parma John’s, anyway.” “Wow, you’ve got the number of blocks memorized?” He gave me an admiring look. “You must love that place.” “Oh, I’ve never actually been inside,” I said. “I’m new to the island, remember?”
