He opened the door wearing a button-down shirt and tired eyes.

“Hey, Mr. Harris,” I said, smiling just a little too sweetly.

He glanced at the clock. “You’re early.”

“I know.” I stepped in past him anyway, brushing close enough to let my arm graze his. “I like being early.”

His jaw tensed. “Kids are upstairs. TV time until eight. Then lights out.”

I nodded, setting my bag down on the entryway bench. “Got it. You heading somewhere fun tonight?”

He ...