"What kind of person would offer a job to a homeless teenager who's only eighteen and physically frail, and even drive out to pick him up?"
After leaving the free public clinic, Nick put the question to his partner.
"Bastards secretly growing marijuana in the forest, or farmers who keep workers specifically to exploit them like slaves."
Hancock's answer was more or less what he had expected, but drones had yet to become widespread, and finding a hidden illegal growing camp in that vast stretch of forest upstream from Multnomah Falls would be no easy task.
"Then let's start with the farms along the river." Nick checked the time on his phone. It was already dark, and the time had reached six thirty in the evening.
"That's it for today. Let's clock out and head home."
"Dasha, your cooking just keeps getting better. This pot of beef marrow soup is simmered to perfection." In the kitchen, Nick bent his head to taste the soup from the spoon Dahlia held out, generous with his praise.
The girl returned the spoon to the pot and hooked her arms around his neck, showing off her lovely figure as her eyes softened. "That's because I have a good teacher who's willing to teach me to cook, hand over hand."
Nick slipped an arm around her slender waist, while his other hand began to wander.
The comfortable domestic life of late had filled Dahlia out considerably. Not only had the lines of her cheeks softened, but other parts of her also showed strong signs of a second growth spurt.
"You see, there are actually plenty of other things I could teach you hands-on, like..."
Just as a certain someone was lecherously running his hands all over her, ding-dong! The doorbell shattered the intimate atmosphere.
Dahlia