Page 64 of Secondhand Smoke

“My mom,” she said, smiling as she thought about the look on Helen’s face, “is sending Erin straight off to bed. And according to her, tomorrow there will be ‘changes’ around here.”

Aidan’s expression became one of amused contentment, laced with fatigue, humor, and something sweeter she could only guess at. “Take it she doesn’t put her foot down often.”

“Hardly ever.” Sam relaxed deeper into her chair, anchored by the solidness of Aidan’s forearm pressing against her. “It’s nice not to be the bad guy for once.”

“You should drink to that.” He clinked his glass against hers and they both took long, healthy swallows. The wine tasted cheap, but had a clean enough finish as it rushed down to warm her belly. She loved wine in that way; it did slow, sophisticated things to the bloodstream, just as potent without all the rage and fire of liquor.

“How bad was the scene at Hamilton House?” she asked, curious now that the crisis was over.

“Typical kid shit. Kegs, cups everywhere, loud music. Lots of making out and pretending they’re adults.”

“My sister…” She almost didn’t want to ask.

“She was standing with her shithead boyfriend when I found her.” So not locked in some sort of amorous embrace, thank God. “He tried to give me some shit, but it wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged.

“Jesse’s such a little prick,” she muttered.

“And probably has one, too,” Aidan said with a quick grin. “The stunted ones are always the ones with something to prove.”

She snorted. “That’d be Jesse. Was his dealer there?”

Something shifted in him, some internal tightening that sent his eyes skittering across the yard again. “I didn’t find him, if he was. I got Erin and got out.” His gaze came back. “We called in a favor with Fielding and had him come break things up.”

“Sergeant Fielding?” The man wasn’t the chief of police, and wasn’t even a detective, but he’d always seemed to have a special hatred for the Lean Dogs. She’d spotted him moving around the Dartmoor lot on more than one occasion.

“Yeah.” Aidan grinned. “In case you ever wondered, having a cop owe you favors is fucking awesome.”

“Why does he owe you guys?”

Another shrug and another evasive glance. “Helped him out a while back.”

“Ah.” But she had no idea what that had entailed. Maybe she didn’t want to.

“Who’s Doug?” he asked, and the question took her off guard.

“What?”

There was nothing vague about his eyes now, as they came to her face. “Who’s Doug?” he repeated. “You mentioned him, before. You said something once about him taking you to dinner at that steakhouse place.”

Ah, yes. She had mentioned him, that afternoon Aidan had come to Ava’s house seeking dating advice. He’d been taking Tonya out that night. Her stomach soured immediately at the thought.

She must have made a face, too, because he said, “What?”

“Nothing.” There was no way she was letting Tonya interfere with this evening. This washertime.Theirtime. “Doug. Right.” She regrouped. “He’s a colleague from work. He teaches English Language Studies.”

There was a note of aggression in his voice when he said, “Is he your boyfriend?”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “What?”

“It’s not funny.” Now he sounded wounded. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” she said, still laughing. “We’ve been out a few times, but decidedly not.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“What? No, Aidan.” She realized she needed to get her chuckling under control, because he was dead serious. She took a steadying sip of wine and schooled her features. “Don’t you think that if Doug and I wanted to be together, we would be?”

“I’ve got no idea.”

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