Page 115 of Smooth Sailing

“You think I won’t have it covered?” Elias shot back.

“I think Hugger should be in with Diana, you take the couch, and Emmylou here sleeps with her daughter,” Big Petey returned.

Oh my God.

I could kiss Big Petey.

Perfect solution for a variety of reasons.

“Pete,” Hugger growled.

“It’s set,” Emmylou decreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, Miss Diana.”

“I don’t mind, Mrs. O’Keefe,” I assured. “Not at all.”

“Call me Emmylou. Or just Emmy,” she invited. She then turned to her daughter. “Ready to go talk to the police?”

Before Madison could answer, Pete ordered, “Hang tight. Want you to have an escort. We got boys patrolling the complex. Gotta give ’em a heads up they need to get to their bikes.”

“All righty,” Emmylou agreed, apparently not perplexed in the slightest that Madison had a small army of bikers looking after her.

Seemed that Rayne did a lot of updating at the station.

“Anyone want coffee while Big Petey sets that up?” I asked.

“I’m fueled up, darlin’, but thank you,” Elias said.

“I need coffee, hon. Didn’t sleep a wink last night,” Emmylou said.

“Oh, Mama,” Madison groaned.

Emmylou whirled on her daughter. “Girl, I’ll sleep like a baby tonight, you sleepin’ beside me. Now let’s have coffee and get this done so Detective Scott can get on with his job.”

I was seeing good things with the addition of Emmylou. I hadn’t gotten around to talking Madison into going to the police station yet.

Now I didn’t have to do that.

I made coffee in to-go mugs, just in case it didn’t take long for the boys to hit their bikes.

As I did, both Hugger and Big Petey were on their phones, and my guess was, Hugger was on his to set that meet while we were at the police station.

He then came to me and murmured, “I’ll go out and get one of those mattresses so I can sleep on the floor in your room.”

“You can get one for Mr. O’Keefe so he can be comfortable. You aren’t getting one for you.”

“Babe.”

“It isn’t like you don’t know I want to sleep with you.”

“I do know that, and I want the same, but?—”

As he was speaking, I was casting my gaze around, and no one was paying any attention to us, but still. I didn’t live in Buckingham Palace where the rooms were the size of football fields. They might hear even if they weren’t listening.

Thus, I cut him off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Di—”

I skewered him with a look. “Harlan, we’ll talk about it later.”

---