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The door banged open and Riley's voice rang out. "I've finally figured it out," hecalled.
"Why does this always happen?" Andy whispered, her shoulders rocking withlaughter.
"Don't you want to know?" he asked. "Don't give me that face,Optimus."
"Know what?" I roared. "How the fuck you got in? Because I'm really fucking curious about that rightnow."
Riley rolled his eyes. "You gave me a key three years ago. When you guys went toScotland."
"And somehow you decided this was the right moment to use it," Andy murmured, her head still tucked under my chin. I brought my hand to the back of her neck, my fingers sliding into herhair.
"I thought you'd want to hear about the holiday cocktails I created for your shindig." He moved a case of liquor to the countertop, beside the wine. "But—apparently—that's not one of yourpriorities."
"It really isn't," Isaid.
At the same time, Andy asked, "What's thedrink?"
"The first one I'm calling the Honeybee. It's angostura bitters for heat, honey syrup for sweet, lemon juice for tart, and a mezcal rinse for smoke. And tequila. Lots of tequila." He shrugged. "It's mostlytequila."
"People are going to be having sex in our house, aren't they?" Andy asked under herbreath.
"No," I replied, shaking my head. "We'll kick them out before it gets to that point. They'll have sex in thehallway."
"That's only slightly better than a dressing room," she said, a laughing ringing in herwords.
I slipped my hand down the back of her shorts and squeezed her ass. "I didn't hear you complainingyesterday."
"I doubt you heard anything over all those growls of yours," she said, sliding her hand under my shirt and up myback.
"The second one," Riley started, his voice booming as he talked over us, "I'm calling the Frisky Whiskey. It's blood orange juice, lemon juice, agave, orange bitters, and Amaro. It's a bittersweet Italiandigestif."
"Any whiskey?" Andy asked. "Since it's part of thename."
"Oh, right," he replied. "Yeah, a ton of whiskey. Like, ninety percent whiskey, ten percent everything else. I would classify both of these drinks as Grade A PantyDroppers."
"You know how some people tell stories about being housebound during snowstorms and hurricanes, and how there's a baby boom nine months later?" I asked. Andy murmured in agreement. "We're going to be blaming Riley's signature drinks for the next babyboom."
Andy shifted in my arms and grinned at Riley. "I hope you know what you'redoing."
"Of course I do," he replied, pulling fruit and bottles from his box. "Where do you want me to setup?"
"How about you go for a walk around the block and come back in half an hour?" I asked. "Think up anotherdrink."
"Something with vodka and cherries. Something strong enough to make me giggle," shesuggested.
"I'm defenseless when you're giggly," I said, squeezing her backside with each word. "I fuckin' loveit."
"I know," she replied, her eyes bright and her smilewide.
"Goddamn it, you two." Riley set a bag of lemons down and shook his head at us. "This is unacceptable. You need to manage your time better," he said. "If you want to get freaky, you don't wait until a few minutes before yourparty."
"Thank you for that pearl of wisdom, RISD," Andysaid.
"You're very welcome." He reached for a dish of olives and helped himself to a handful. One of them slipped out of his grip and rolled across the kitchen floor. He didn't notice. "Besides, Alex is in surgery for another hour or two so you're stuck with me. I'm going to hang out here and squeeze some citrus. If you're lucky, I'll mix up a Nip Slip just for you,Andy."
"It's probably unwise to ask this," I started, "but what is in a NipSlip?"
"Vodka, grenadine, vodka, orange curaçao, vodka," he replied, rambling off the ingredients as he organized his items. "And twocherries."
