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She bumped him with her shoulder as they walked. “Does that mean you’re an ass man, Gabe MacKenzie?”
“I—” he ran through all the possible responses in his head and decided discretion was the better part of ass valor “—am not going to answer that.”
“You can tell me. Feel free to spill all your kinks. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve heard.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He looked around. “Are we even walking in the right direction? Where do you live?”
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, then spun him around. “It’s this way. I’m sorry. I haven’t been this tipsy in a really long time.”
He thought she was way past tipsy, but damned if it wasn’t adorable on her. “So how does one become a professional advice columnist?”
“Overbearing father,” she muttered, then shook her head. “I was a copy editor, but I also helped out with an advice column at the Village Voice. Screening letters, proofing the column, that sort of thing. When I told my dad I was moving back to Jackson, I suppose he wanted to help. He’s friends with the owner of the Jackson paper, and Dad inflated my experience a little. So here I am. A fraud who gives advice.”
“Well, you’re great at it, so how could you be a fraud?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“Does someone else write the column for you?”
She laughed, bumping into him again, her thigh rubbing against his and reminding him of how naked her legs were. “No,” she said. “I write it all by myself. That I can do, at least.”
“Which was your favorite column to write?”
“Hmm.” They stepped from the sidewalk to the boardwalk and Veronica seemed to get distracted by the sound of her heels on the wooden boards for a moment. Then she shook her head and looked up again. “Last year a mother wrote in to slut-shame the woman her adult son was dating. She said that this harlot was luring her son with free sex.”
“Oh, God,” Gabe groaned. “Poor guy.”
“I know. We can only guess at how much he was suffering. Anyway, I answered that letter, telling her that if she was disappointed in the behavior, then maybe she hadn’t raised her son very well. I also said there was nothing wrong with sex and to leave the girl alone. Pretty standard stuff. Except that I became friends with the harlot later.”
“Ha! Seriously?”
“It’s a small town. These things happen. I probably know the guy who fell in love with his sex doll, too, but please don’t tell me if it’s you.”
“I’d rather not talk about it, anyway,” Gabe said. “It’s over.”
“Oh, no! Did it fizzle out?”
He shrugged. “We tried to patch it up a couple of times.”
She tugged him to a stop, then leaned against a street lamp, wheezing with laughter.
He grinned as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You okay?”
She shook her head, still struggling for air past her hysterical laughter.
“Was it that funny, or is it just the alcohol?”
“Both!” she gasped. Then groaned, “God, I must be a mess.”
He looked over her tearstained face and the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “Nah. You look great.”
“Really?” She swiped at her pink nose.
“Really. Now, where are we going?”
“Right here,” she said, gesturing toward a three-story condo complex.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the lamppost to walk her toward the entry. “I only live one block over.”
