Shepherd reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He hadn’t moved from his place above Ginny, his nose inches away from her face. She smelled like coconut and vanilla, and minty toothpaste. “You’re right. It was a full swoon, like a medieval lady. Hey, Noah”—that was directed to the phone—“what’s up?”
“Everything’s fine!” Noah chirped with so much force that Shepherd almost missed the other chirping in the background noise. “Everything is fine.”
Shepherd put his weight on one forearm. Ginny had yet to let go of his shirt, but the wide-eyed blinking had turned into a disbelieving glare. “Is that the fire alarm?”
“Um, a little bit.”
“What do you mean,a little bit?”
Ginny’s eyebrows raised—something he noticed more now because of the Botox comment earlier. They didn’t go up very high, but they did go up.
“We have everything under control, OK? We are waving the smoke away now.”
“What do you mean?”
Ginny raised her head and grazed her teeth against his neck.
“The binder said to notify you every time the fire alarm goes off, no matter what, and so I am doing my job and notifying you that the fire alarm is going off, but there’s no fire and barely any smoke damage!”
Ginny’s tongue and lips went next, right at his pulse point. Nipping. Soothing. Sucking.
“Uh,” Shepherd said. He was upset about something just a second ago. What was it again?
“So, everything is fine. You keep enjoying your day off. And I’ll see you soon.” Noah hung up.
Shepherd didn’t notice right away. He also didn’t care anymore, either.
Ginny released him with a sigh and a soft kiss. “Noah’s got the smoke damage taken care of, Shepherd.” She fell backagainst her pillow, red hair splayed on the lavender pillowcase. “Maybe he can help us save my mom.”
Shepherd rested his forehead against hers. “Maybe. Or maybe … we should ask someone else for help.”
Ginny pushed his shoulders. Shepherd didn’t budge until the second shove, but he only moved away far enough to look at his phone screen.
“Shepherd,” she said, “no.”
He grimaced. “Just hear him out, Ginny. That’s all.”
“But we said—”
“I know, and I still stand by that. I hate him. I hate everyone. But hating everyone isn’t going to get your mom back. And I can’t see any other way out of this. Can you?”
She drummed her fingers on his shoulders, chewed on her bottom lip.
Shepherd kissed her.
Ginny groaned and pushed her forehead against his again. “OK. Put him on speaker. We talk to him together. And just talk.”
Shepherd snuck another kiss. “Just talk.” Propping himself up on one elbow, he called Charlie Cardello on speaker.
THIRTY-THREE
“Normally, I gotta call out to order pizza,” Charlie said instead of “hello.” His exhale filled the speaker, and it was easy to picture him blowing smoke. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Ginny and I just want to talk,” Shepherd said. “That’s all.”
“Hi, Charlie,” Ginny said.
“Hi, yourself. Look, I’m flattered you’ve changed your mind, really, but I don’t conduct business over the phone.”
