Riley:Then you'll have to add one soit'sfair.
Alex:Maybe we could go back to Rhode Island sometime. That inn, too. Do it all over. Without thewhiskey.
Riley:Yes. Pick theweekend.
Alex:I'lldothat.
Riley:But not that inn. I don't think they want to see usagain.
Alex:Why not? We'redelightful.
Riley:We are delightful, but when I was settling up, the owner mentioned that we'd been alittleloud.
Alex:That's entirelypossible.
Riley:The Dean Hotel would work. We'll drink at Magdalenae and then only have to drag ourselves up a few flights of stairs when you want to rip myclothesoff.
Alex:I'll look at myschedule.
Riley:AboutThursday…
Alex:Yeah. I'm on call but I can swap with someone if you wantmeto.
Riley:If it's not asking too much, yes. This event is…ugh. I'm dreading it, but you would make ittolerable.
Alex:Why isitugh?
Riley:Long story short, it's our childhood home. We don't have great memories of the place but we do need to show up for this firedrill.
Alex:Isee.
Riley:Yeah, so, I'd appreciate it if you could wear something distracting. Something that would make me drool overyourass.
Alex:I'll see what Icanfind.
* * *
Alex nudgedme with her elbow. "Are wefighting?"
"What?" I asked, glancing down at her as we bustled up the circular driveway at Wellesley. "Whatwasthat?"
I was in a shitty mood. Really shitty. And I didn't have a good reason for it, other than being marched at gunpoint to this event. I wanted to be anywhere but here, and that attitude was rolling off me inwaves.
"I asked if we're fighting," she said. "You haven't grabbed my ass once tonight, and lately we're to the point where I think something's wrong if you're notfondlingme."
I chuckled and slid my hand down her back. Her coat prevented me from getting in a good squeeze but the sentiment wasthere.
"Nothing's wrong," I said, shaking my head. "It's just this—this place." My gaze pinged around the roofline. "It's fuckinghaunted."
"What kind of haunted?" she asked. "There's the intriguing-charmingvariety—"
"Not that kind," I said under mybreath.
"Then there's the creepy-nightmarishvariety."
"Less creepy, more nightmare," I said, steering her away from the front steps and toward the side entrance. We weren't here for the bells and whistles tour, and hanging out in the kitchen—away from anyone who wanted to prattle on about the wonders of this house—was a suitable way to kill time. We arrived at the door and I paused there, my hand on the knob, and forced a smile. "Actually, it's not that bad. I just don't likebeinghere."
A frown tugged at her lips. "Can I make it anybetter?"
