Chapter 57

He reached over and squeezed my thigh. “I’m a big boy. I can handle Holmes.” He changed the subject. “Tell me about the suite you reserved for us at Taylor House.”

“Big bed, big bathroom…. Hurricane season hasn’t ended, so it shouldn’t be too crowded.”

“Hurricane?”

“Nah, the seven-day forecast is for really good weather.”

“Do I have your word on that?”

I turned my head to grin at him. “Always.”

The rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers was a soft counterpoint to our conversation.

We were about five blocks from my place, sitting at a traffic light, when Quinn’s cell phone rang. He studied the screen in the light of the dashboard and smiled.

“Hello, Mother.”…“We’re almost at Mark’s.”…“How’s traffic on your end?”…“That bad? I’m sorry to hear that.”

“How bad?” I asked him.