"I saved her cat," said Grant.
"Must have earned her stamp of approval," David replied absently. He stood with the refrigerator open, staring into it with the perplexed expression of a man who has forgotten what he's looking for.
"She gave me ice cream."
"Ice cream . . ." David echoed. He released the fridge door and opened the freezer side instead.
"Are you even listening?" Grand asked.
"We don't have any," sighed David. He let the freezer shut, too, and turned to Grant. "Let's go out. For ice cream."
Grant did a rapid mental calculation. Being seen out with the great David Styles certainly wouldn't hurt his PR any. And he actually liked David, which was something like a bonus given how many people he was forced to endure that he didn't like. Nature of the business. But still . . . "Your treat?"
David laughed. "Yes, fine. But you drive."