“How much we make so far?” Jordan asked looking at the tip jar beside Christina’s leg and frowning at the small amount within.
“Mmm looks like $40.”
“$40? That’s it? The goal is $200 per team! I am NOT about
to clean those damn windows and floors again! If Rachael thinks for a second
that…” the sound of a motor revving interrupted her thought and they both
turned at the sight of Remington pulling up. He was leather clad and smiling as
he drove closer.
