Page 4 of French Martini

“What does that mean?”

“Unless he’s a total dumbass, which doesn’t seem to be the case, he’ll know it was a one-night wonder,” Bane explains. “He left before you could wake up. That’s a good sign.”

“Proper hookup etiquette,” Jerryn says. “From what I’ve heard. I have about as much hookup experience as a nun.”

Bane scowls for a second but quickly neutralizes his expression as he turns his attention back to me. “Yeah, Oakley knows what’s up. I’d be willing to put money on it.”

“Don’t, please.”

“Oh my god, it smells so good.” Kit shuffles into the kitchen wearing only a pair of basketball shorts. “Thanks for cooking, guys.”

Jerryn’s face lights up. “Our pleasure, but if someone wants to set the table, we’d appreciate it.”

“I can,” I offer, already heading to the butler’s pantry.

“I’ll help,” Kit says. “Stewart will be down in a few minutes.”

“Do you think we’ll even see Salem and Indy today?” Bane asks.

I smile just thinking about Indy and Salem’s relationship. I never thought I’d see Kit settle down, but Indy? I would’ve expected pigs to fly first. Salem is perfect for him though, and I knew it almost immediately. Indy and Kit finding love almost renews my faith that it does actually exist. Almost.

Kit and I are heading back through the kitchen to the dining room when a short man with deep red hair enters the room, clearly confused as he clutches his sneakers to his chest.

“Shit,” he murmurs.

“Can we help you?” I ask.

“I’m just looking for the front door. It was dark last night. This house is huge.”

“He was with Rid,” Kit whispers while all of us gaze at the man awkwardly.

I set my stack of plates on the island. “I’ll show you.”

“Thanks, man.” He clears his throat. “Ridley’s asleep.”

“No problem.”

I guide the man down the hallway, and when we get back to the stairs, he nods. “I went left when I should’ve gone right.”

“It’s easy to get turned around in here.”

Once we get to the front door, the man tugs his shoes on and grabs his coat from the rack.

“Thanks.”

“Certainly.”

I watch him walk down the path to a beat-up gray hatchback parked in the circular drive. I could’ve invited him to stay for breakfast, but I don’t know if Ridley would like that, and frankly, he looked like he wanted to leave.

Heading back to the kitchen, I pause and gaze up at the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs, smiling when Ridley appears seconds later.

“He’s gone?”

“Yep.”

He scrubs his hand over his face. “Cool.”

“He got lost and ended up in the kitchen.”

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