Josh darted him an apologetic and panicked look as he started scooting away, no doubt heading for one of the other entrances. As much as Les would have liked to snarl at Josh, he just couldn’t—not when, if there was any way he thought he could get away with it, Les would be jumping up and hauling ass himself. “I brought you some homemade double chocolate chip cookies.” Fear bubbled up and over in him. Les stumbled as he got up, backing away as if the woman before him was holding an assault rifle rather than a Tupperware dish filled with cookies. Charlene frowned at him, then just looked at him like he was crazy as hell—which, Les knew even in his panicked state, he probably was. “Les, they’re just cookies. Or are you worried I’m going to castrate you for having sex with my son?” Well, he hadn’t been until she said it! Les backed away until he smacked up against the side of the hospital. “Leslie Stanton! You stop that right now!” Charlene snapped. Les froze, as much in horror at hearing his hated first name in its entirety as at the force in Charlene’s voice.
