Page 137 of Last Call

"What?" Riley asked.

"I'll bet she gives Barb a pop quiz about pizza toppings."

Riley looked at Fallon.

"I'll bet it's genetic. The quiz thing,” Fallon said.

"You really are a little touched, babe."

Fallon grinned and gently pressed Riley against the cushions.

"What are you doing?" Riley giggled.

"You said I'm touched."

"Fallon," Riley laughed.

"Besides, the doctor said sometimes sex can move things in the right direction."

"I thought you were worried about my hydration?"

"We can hydrate after the touching."

Riley pulled Fallon's lips to hers and kissed her passionately. Then she pushed Fallon away and stood.

"Riley? Where are you going?"

"I'm thirsty. And I have to pee."

Fallon flopped on the couch with a groan.

"You can lie there groaning or grab me a bottle of water and meet me in the bedroom," Riley called out.

Fallon found her feet quickly.

Riley shook her head.At least she isn't hovering—yet.

Epilogue

Riley was foldinglaundry at the foot of the bed, methodically smoothing out shirts, rolling socks, and tucking pajamas into neat little piles. The suitcase sat open on the bench, half-packed and already organized by category.

Fallon leaned in the doorway and watched her.

She should have been helping. She should have been doingsomething—checking her phone, reviewing contractor updates, or confirming bookings for the winter packages she was launching. Instead, she just stood there, arms crossed, watching Riley fold a t-shirt like it was the most natural, beautiful thing in the world.

It wasn’t just the quiet rhythm of it. It was the way Riley tilted her head when something didn’t line up just right. The way she muttered under her breath when she found a rogue sock. The way she moved through the moment like she wasn’t rushing to get to the next one.

Fallon had been running for weeks. Then again, Fallon was always moving. She had always kept her house neat. It wasn't hard. She ate out more than she cooked. She slept in her favorite chair. She worked long hours. It didn't matter if her laundrystayed crumpled in a bin or folded haphazardly on her bed. No one was there to see it. Until Riley.

Riley took care of everything. She'd say that wasn't true. Fallon moved the lawn, plowed the driveway, and even tended the garden. She bathed Owen andmade him pancakes and macaroni and cheese. Riley took care of them—Fallon and Owen—of the things thatmattered. She cooked their favorite meals and insisted they get enough sleep. She teased Fallon about grass stains and mud in the hallway. Riley never complained.

Laundry helped bring them together. Without Fallon's laundry challenges, Riley might not have agreed to stay with her when she arrived in Whiskey Springs.

"Riley, Jerry will fix the roof as soon as he can. Then you can move into the house. It's only a few weeks. Just stay with me. Your things are there already. It just makes sense."

“No,” Riley said. “I don’t want to ruin a friendship before it even starts.”

“Don’t drink all my coffee, and we’ll be fine,” Fallon said.

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