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Nothing.
“Jaine! Luna! T.J.! Cheryl!”
Luna lifted her head an inch and looked blearily at him, then let her head drop back down on her arms. The other three didn’t stir.
A grin spread over his face. He could shake them awake, he supposed, but that wouldn’t be much fun. What was fun was finding a pot and a metal spoon and banging them together, then watching the four women bolt upright, wild-eyed. Jaine hit her head on the table and yelled, “Son of a bitch!”
His mission accomplished, Sam distributed the coffee cups, bending over to give Jaine hers; she was sitting under the table, rubbing her head and glaring. God, he loved that woman.
“C’mon, get it in gear,” he said to the group at large. “The funeral is in roughly five hours.”
“Five hours?” Luna groaned. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. That means you have to be at the funeral home in four hours.”
“No way,” T.J. pronounced, but she managed a sip of coffee.
“You have to sober up—”
?
?We aren’t drunk,” came a growl from beneath the table.
“—eat something, if you can, shower, wash your hair, whatever it is you have to do. You don’t have time to sit under the table growling.”
“I’m not growling.”
No, that was more like a snarl. Maybe some medicinal sex would sweeten her mood—if he lived through it. At the moment, he kinda knew how the male praying mantis felt when he was approaching Ms. Mantis, knowing the sex was going to be great but he was going to get his head bitten off.
Ah, well. Some things were worth losing your head.
Cheryl stood up, very creakily. She had the imprint of the pot-holder loop on her cheek. She drank some coffee, cleared her throat, and said, “He’s right. We have to get moving, or we’ll be late.”
A slender arm thrust out from under the table, holding an empty coffee cup. Sam got the carafe and refilled the cup. The arm was retracted.
God willing, he could look forward to forty or fifty years with her. It was scary. What was even scarier was that he liked the idea.
T.J. finished her coffee and got up for a refill, so she was functional. She said, “Okay. I can do this. Let me pee and wash my face, and I’m good to drive home.” She stumbled down the short hall, and a sudden wail floated back: “God, I can’t believe I told Sam I have to pee!”
Fifteen minutes later he had them all lined up, even Jaine, and they were all scowling at him. “I can’t believe you’re making us do this!” she snapped, but obediently blew into the Breathalyzer.
“I’m a cop. No way am I letting any of you drive until I’ve checked that you’re okay.” He looked at the reading and grinned, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing I’m here, babe, because you aren’t driving anywhere. You’re slightly over the limit.”
“I am not!”
“Yes, you are. Now drink some more coffee and be quiet while I check the others.”
Cheryl was okay. T.J. was okay. Luna was okay, barely.
“You cheated!” Jaine accused, her expression thunderous.
“How in hell can I cheat? You’re the one who blew into it!”
“Then it’s wrong! It’s defective. We all drank the same amount, so how can I be over the limit when no one else is?”
“They outweigh you,” he said patiently. “Luna’s pushing the edge, but she’s legal. You aren’t. I’ll drive you home.”
Now she looked like a sulky kid. “Which vehicle are we going to leave here, yours or mine?”
