“Shit!” Del hissed and quickly ground some sea salt on top of the delicate pieces of fish
He slammed down the salt grinder and looked around the kitchen to locate the noise. He managed to find his cell phone under a stack of papers on the counter and grimaced when he had to swipe twice to get the thing to work. Tuna fingers, ugh.
“What?” he barked into the phone, propping it between his shoulder and ear as he moved to the sink to wash his hands.
“Calm down, Delly, geez!”
Del grimaced. “Sorry, sis, you caught me mid-cooking.”
“Apology accepted. Now sit your ass down, I have some interesting news.” Bernice sounded almost gleeful, which immediately perked Del’s interest.
He dried his hands quickly and took the closest seat—an old dining chair by the island. “Oh?”
“Guess who called me tonight?” Before he could answer, she cackled and said, “One Clyde Harding.”
Del’s jaw dropped. What the fuck did his treacherous asshat of an ex-husband want from his sister?