Clint slung his arm around Kate’s shoulders.
“Doesn’t it look awesome, Katie-Kate?” He looked proudly at the hand lettered sign that read “Hawkeye’s Pizza,” duct taped to the metal grated security door.
Kate looked at him and lifted her dark brows.
She was less impressed by the half boarded windows, anatomically incorrect graffiti over a large portion of the red brick, and the rusted out fence that Clint had declared as the “patio area.”
“Needs some work, Hawkguy.” She wrapped her arm around his waist anyway. “It’ll be great.”
“Let’s go see the inside, and what I’m sure is not at all filled with toxic black mold and asbestos.”
He grinned at her and pulled the keys out of his hoodie pocket. “Lucky checked it out, he seemed fine.”
“I don’t know if he’s certified in New York State, Barton. Seriously, did you have this all checked before you signed the papers?”
“Relax, Bishop. Don’t judge a book by its cover. That outside stuff is an easy fix anyway.” He jiggled a key in the lock.
Then tried two more before he got the door open, with a little help from his shoulder. He flipped the light switch with his right hand. “Gotta love it!”
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