“Ziggy, stop.”

Using his teeth, he opened the mascara. Sheryl closed her eyes as he scraped it over her eyelids.

She cried and he tugged harder.

“Yeah . . . I like that.” He rubbed against her hip, let her know what the makeup did for him.

The door to Zanya’s room opened.

Ziggy pulled Sheryl all the way into the bathroom and slammed the door.

He dropped the makeup, put both hands in her hair and his lips close to her ear. “You say my name, real slow. Ziggy baby.”

He pulled her harder. “Ziggy. Baby.”

He knew his daughter sat on the other side of the door, listening.

“Yeah, baby,” he moaned, watching the door. “Moan!”

She didn’t move fast enough. When he pulled, she moaned enough to sound like he was giving it to her.

“Not so loud,” he said with a forced laugh. “Our baby will know how much you like it.”

The sound of Zanya’s door closing was like walking past a cop with a jacket full of dope. He turned his attention to Sheryl.

With a smile, he pushed her to her knees in front of him and opened the fly of his jeans.

The dinner party was at Wyatt and Mel’s house.

“You know Mel can’t cook,” she told Luke as they walked the few blocks it took to get there. It wasn’t raining, and since they planned on drinking, they decided to enjoy the warm September night.

“I know she’s been poring over cookbooks ever since you announced you were writing one.”

“Oh, has she cooked for you before?”

Luke cringed. “Lord, no . . . Wyatt has to be the guinea pig for that mess.”

She lifted the bottle of wine she had in her hand and tapped it on the one in his. “We’ll be fine.”

Jo’s squad car sat parked across the street, and Miss Gina was just pulling into the drive.

Zoe couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Gina owned something other than a floor-length skirt.

Miss Gina eyed the wine in their hands. “Oh, thank God.” She lifted her hand to show a jug of what Zoe had to guess was the famous hard lemonade.

“Open container, Miss Gina? That’s naughty of you.”

“Pft.” She slammed the door to the throwback sixties VW van and headed for the door. “I have connections at the top.”

Wyatt was a general contractor, and it showed in the work he’d put into his home. Mel greeted them at the door, all smiles, and Zoe had to admit, good smells came from the kitchen.

“I’m waiting to smell burnt,” Miss Gina said right off.

Mel slapped the woman’s shoulder and took the lemonade from her hand. “Do you want this or wine?”

“Or beer?” Wyatt asked from the living room.

“I’ll take a beer.” Luke lifted a hand.

Jo held Hope’s hand as they drifted from a hallway.

“Auntie Zoe!” Hope pulled away and hugged her.

“What? No love for me?” Luke opened his arms.

“Oh, Uncle Luke.” Hope shared the love.

Zoe followed Mel into the state-of-the-art kitchen and ran a hand over the edge of the oven. “Nice digs, Mel.”

“Wyatt did all of it. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Stone countertops, stainless steel appliances, downlighting from under the cabinets. “The wine fridge is perfect there.” A well thought out wedding gift, she thought with a grin.

“Yeah, he’d planned the space for a beer tap. Can you imagine?”

Zoe almost choked.

Luke clearing his throat from the doorway had her standing taller.

“Let me open this.” Mel took the wine from Zoe’s hand.

Luke slid closer, took the bottle opener off the counter. He moved close, whispered, “Christmas present.”

Zoe fluttered her lashes a few times and blew him off with a smile.

Luke kissed her without invitation and then left them alone in the kitchen.

“Do you have any idea how great that is to see?”

“I know how great it is to feel.”

Mel offered a one-arm hug and continued opening the wine.

Marinated chicken, just slightly overdone, steamed vegetables, and brown rice that needed another twenty minutes to cook. Zoe had to hand it to her nonculinary friend. “I’m impressed,” Zoe said after the first few bites.

Poor Mel looked nervous. “The rice isn’t cooked enough.”

“I like it, Mommy.”

Luke ruffled the top of Hope’s head.

“Timing is something you learn from mistakes. The more you cook, the more mistakes you make, the better you get.”

“You should put that in your book,” Jo said.

“Says the one who lives out of a microwave box.”

Jo waved a forkful of chicken in the air. “The rice in the box is never undercooked.”

Luke and Wyatt both agreed.

“Good Lord, what have you two lived on for the past ten years?” Zoe asked the men.

Wyatt filled his fork with half-done rice. “Pizza.”

“Fried chicken,” Luke added.

“Beer.”

Luke kicked her under the table.

“I can grill a mean steak,” Wyatt said.

“It’s clear I moved back to River Bend in time save you all from high cholesterol and hypertension.”

“What’s hy-derp-teshion?” Hope asked.

“It’s what you get when you eat tasty things,” Miss Gina told her.