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Ryker sighed.

“Yeah, I heard you. But Amy, tell me the truth, have you ever felt like this with any other man in your life?”

“No,” she said slowly. “Not ever.”

“What would happen if I lived in D.C., would we be at a restaurant right now?”

Fuck!

“Yes.”

“Then that’s the last I want to hear about us only being friends and you being a bad bet. I’m willing to put up with this bullshit right now because apparently, that’s what you need. But pretty soon it’s going to come to an end.”

“But not now, right?”

He sighed again. “But not now,” he agreed.

“Now you’ll dish about Lark?” she asked hopefully.

Ryker laughed. “I’m so definitely going to dish about Kostya and Lark.”

Amy dropped her book and almost fell off the couch when she heard the sound of someone playing with the front door lock. It took more than a second or two for her to realize that she had been half asleep and that it was actually the key turning in the lock and that Carla was letting herself in.

Ninny!

“Hey, Cuz,” Carla whispered when she saw Amy, just before she shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Carla, did you have a good time?”

“So-so. I’m so sick of having to go out to those damned parties and trying to sell jewelry, but it does put a little extra money into the family coffers.”

“Why haven’t you shown me any of the jewelry? You know I like bling,” Amy lied.

Carla gave her a droll look. “If you could go to hell for telling the biggest lie in history, you would be going to hell in a Rolls Royce. You hate the kind of jewelry I sell, but you would buy everything in my case if you think it would help us out. So no. Absolutely not. I’m not going to show you a damn thing.” Carla smiled.

She moved her roll-case over to the corner of the room and then headed to the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked Amy.

“No thank you.”

“Okay.” Carla pulled a bottle of Chardonnay out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. “I feel so grown up now that I’m not drinking wine out of a box.”

Amy giggled. “Remember when you used to drink wine coolers?”

“What are you talking about? Do I remember wine coolers?” Carla opened her fridge to put the bottle of Chardonnay back and pulled out a four-pack of dark cherry wine coolers. “Can I talk you into one of these?”

Amy raised her eyebrow.

“I’m sorry. I always forget,” Carla apologized.

“I don’t see how, considering what a raging addict and alcoholic my mom is.” Amy winced at her sarcastic tone.

“Yeah, but you’re so put together, it doesn’t even compute for me,” Carla said as she took a sip of wine. “I never asked, does it bother you when I drink in front of you?”

“Nah. It’s not like I’m a recovering alcoholic, as if I’m jonesing for a drink or something, I’ve just abstained because I know addiction runs in my family. So seeing someone drink doesn’t bother me, unless it’s my mom.”

“Speaking of which, is she obeying the restraining order?”

Amy looked down at the counter, then at the pictures on Carla’s refrigerator. John looked cute in his Halloween costume.