One Perfect Touch (Very Irresistible Bachelors 3)

I took out my phone and credit card, and by the time we reached our station, I’d popped my audio cherry.

Tess was already at Mom’s. Josie and Isabelle arrived ten minutes after us. After initial introductions were out of the way, we took stock of the food, though since we’d been relying on Rob sending over meals, we didn’t have much. And speaking of Rob, he outdid himself that evening. When the delivery arrived, it wasn’t the usual dinner for two but a platter filled with half a dozen delicious treats.

“My brother is more thoughtful than I gave him credit for,” Anne said.

“Well, well. He definitely knows we’d have stuffed our faces with popcorn otherwise,” Tess said.

I didn’t reply, just smiled from ear to ear. Hiding in the pantry, I texted him.

Skye: Thanks for dinner.

Rob: Anytime.

Skye: You’ve just saved me from getting super drunk and dirty-texting you.

Rob: You can always dirty-text me.

Rob: Seriously.

Skye: Why doesn’t this surprise me?

Rob: :)

Sitting around the dining room table, we stuffed our face with all the goodies, chatting about everything and nothing in particular. Mom was focusing on Anne. She must have sensed that Anne still felt a bit out of place here, but forty minutes into their conversation, Anne’s shoulders weren’t as hunched, and she was smiling more.

Mom went to bed about two hours into the evening.

Tess pouted. “I thought she’d stay up for longer.”

“She’s just tired,” Josie said. “By the way, anyone want to check the drinks supply in the library?”

I threw my head back, laughing. “We must remember to tell Mom you were the one convincing us to break into her supply all the time. How come you don’t have a nickname? Should be the Marauder.”

Josie grinned, rubbing her palms theatrically. “I love that.”

We stormed Mom’s liquor supply, which was in the reading room where Tess and I took turns sleeping.

The bottom row of the floor-to-ceiling shelves had doors, and behind two of them was Mom’s collection of bourbon and whiskey. She was short on wine: just one lonely bottle of merlot. Then again, Mom didn’t drink wine.

“Anyone feel sixteen again?” I whispered.

Tess cocked a brow. “Why are you whispering?”

“I don’t know. Instinct. Guilt. Take your pick.”

My sister pointed to the bottle of merlot. “That looks like just what we need.”

“Get drunk as skunks?” Isabelle double-checked.

“No, we all need something to melt off the stress in our bones, and this merlot here seems just like what the doctor ordered. Me being the doctor,” Josie concluded.

“There’s five of us. I’m pretty sure we’ll need another bottle,” Isabelle said.

Josie pointed her thumb to her sister. “See? That’s where I get all the marauder genes. Or influence, whatever you want to call it.”

Isabelle nodded proudly.

“Hate to break it to you, but this is the only bottle Mom has,” I said.