Robinson,” said Brian. “You take care, young man,” Vincent said, clapping him on the back. “Don’t be a stranger.” While Justus said goodbye to his friend, Vincent sat and surveyed the small but tidy office. Justus’s desk, which looked to be little more than an oak kitchen table, sat in front of a pair of oversized windows. Bookshelves and file cabinets lined one wall. There was a private bathroom off the other side of the room. Nice hardwood floors. All in all, Justus, or someone, had done a respectable job of fixing the place up—and not just the office, either. The whole club felt warm and welcoming. Or it would, if Justus would stop glowering at him. Vincent remembered this old Victorian house from when he was just a kid, so that would make it—what?—at least sixty years old? The facade had recently been painted, the floors refinished, and the rooms remodeled.
What do You think about Risk (It's Complicated Book 2)?
