“Why not?”
“I’m wearing a crocheted nightgown.”
“Cute. Can I see?”
“It’s covered in holes.”
“As most crocheted things are.”
She opens the blanket, giving me a view of her chest.
I press a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing. “You’re right. Even for the Waffle House at two a.m., it’s too much nipple.”
“And that’s only the top half.” She cinches the blanket tighter around us. “What now?”
“I don’t know.” My ass is numb from cold concrete.
“What about your old roommate?”
“Amber moved to Oregon a few years ago.” I scrub my hands over my face. “If I’d been better about keeping in touch with people from college, we’d have more options.”
“Well, we have at leastoneoption.” She stares at me pointedly.
“No.”
“What else are we going to do? Sit here half-naked and turn into Popsicles for the next six hours?”
“I knew you’d understand.”
“I absolutely don’t.”
“I can’t, Daph,” I whine.
She pulls the blanket from my shoulders and wraps it snugly around herself. “You owe me.” I start to protest, but she continues. “For helping your ill-fated revenge scheme and for not eventryingwith your sourdough starter.”
I knew that sourdough would come back to bite me in the ass. “Fine! I’ll try, but I can’t promise he’ll answer.”
She rolls her eyes. “He will.”
West answers after one ring, his voice sounding shockingly coherent for the middle of the night. “What’s wrong?”
I walk out of Daphne’s earshot. “My hotel caught on fire.”
“What?” he barks.
“I’m fine.”
He swears under his breath. “Lead with that next time.”
“Sorry.”
“You need somewhere to stay?” Mercifully, his intuition saves me from having to ask. I wonder absently if he’s in bed. Ifhispajamas are appropriate for Waffle House.
I’m in so much trouble.
“Daphne and I both do.”
“On my way.”
