“What did it say?”
“Kind of what Claudie was talking about. We’d agree that we weren’t dating or starting a relationship. We’d set a time limit when it would be over so neither of us would be the dumper or the dumpee.”
“What was the time limit?”
“Two weeks.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God. That’s crazy!”
“Why?”
“We might create a habit!”
He swallowed a laugh. Only Tracy would come up with that. “I doubt it.” An obsession maybe.
“Seriously. Some research shows it takes at least three weeks to form a habit, but others say eighteen days is enough time. We’re not taking that chance. We need to do it like inSeinfeld— one night.”
“How about a week?” Didn’t hurt to ask.
She shook her head. “Speaking for myself, I’d rather not have everyone in the family know about this. I said you’re free to tell whoever you want, but?—"
“I haven’t.”
“Not even Luis?”
“Nobody. So far it’s just the four of us.”
“Okay, then. We can trust those two.” She tiled her head in the direction of Mila and Claudette.
“I know.” He took a breath. “What night did you have in mind?”
“The only one that makes sense. Tonight.”
His breath whooshed out and drum line took up residence in his chest. “Tonight?”
“It’s perfect. I’m already here and if I stay another night, everyone will assume I’m over at Mila and Claudette’s. I can even park my truck there. It’s practically foolproof.”
Her speech was matter-of-fact, but the glow in her eyes matched the party going on in his eager body. “How do you want to work it?”
“Depends. Do you know if your family is getting together for dinner again tonight?”
“Don’t think so. Mom said something about going to the Raccoon with the Damsels tonight since Angie and her crew aren’t here.”
“See how this is working out? Once we get back, I’ll ride Moonlight home, pick up Bluebell and drive over.”
“When?” Now that he was counting hours and not days, each one was precious.
“Not till it’s dark. I’m glad your cabin is on the same side of the house as Mila’s place. I won’t have to cross the yard.” She glanced up at him. “Do you have?—”
“Condoms? Yes, ma’am.”
“I was gonna say food.”
“Oh. Food.” His hormone-soaked brain worked on the problem. What was in the fridge? He’d cooked this week, but damned if he could remember what he’d had. “I think there’s?—”
“Never mind. My folks keep plenty of two-person servings in the freezer. They’ve told me to help myself if I come out when they’re on the road.”
“That would be great. Thanks. I didn’t expect?—”
