17 Chapter 17

Hendrix laughed then, and Robin turned, somewhat surprised. “Sorry. I’m sorry he’s scared, and don’t mean to make light of it,” Hendrix said, removing his glasses and nuzzling up to the dog that had petrified him mere hours ago. “But it’s almost like he knows that when you have company, he’s to lie on the floor. The storm supersedes—is that a good word?”

Robin nodded.

“The thunder supersedes that, though.” Hendrix rubbed the plush fur at the scruff of Mag’s neck, and Robin’s lingering silence was apparently a tip-off.

“Wait. He does know that.” Hendrix smiled. “You haven’t been as secluded up here as you pretend.” He laughed again. “‘Cause horniness, supersedes your less powerful yearning for solitude.”

“No,” Robin said. “Maybe,” he amended. “But I assure you, visitors are rare, and no man, other than myself, has ever been in this bed.”

“No?” Hendrix practically winked. “How new is it?”