Aunt Leona picks up her shot glass, downs it all in a quick swallow, and smacks her lips. “A little bit stronger than last year’s batch,” she says. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let it ferment as long. You want to write that down? Not to leave it in the jug too long?”

I hold up my hand and shake my head.

No more.

“It’s getting late,” Sam says. “I should take Lila home.” He knocks his glass back without blinking then slides a casual arm around my waist. “Are you going to be okay? Should we wait a few more minutes before heading out?”

“I’m okay,” I say. “We should probably go. We’ve taken up far too much of Aunt Leona’s time.” I reach out and touch her arm. “Thank you. You’ve been a big help.”

“I hope to see you again,” she says, still patting me on the back. “Visit me anytime. And be sure to send me a copy of the magazine article when it comes out.”

“I will,” I lie.

I hate this.

Chapter Seven

Lila

––––––––

The loud roar of a motorcycle muffler wakes me up. I reach over groggily, switch on the bedside lamp, and look at the clock.

1 a.m.

Who is up at this time of the night? I’m an early morning person, so this is way past my bedtime.

Surely not Sam?

He dropped me off at my front door three hours ago. I can’t imagine why he would come back. Especially since we had such an amazing fun time at Aunt Leona’s.

Not.

I couldn’t wait for that little excursion to end.

The motorcycle pulls up in front of the house and the engine cuts off.

Would Sam really come over this late without calling? Yeah, he would.

I tug on a long t-shirt that hangs halfway down my thighs and slip on a pair of panties. Sam doesn’t need to know that I sleep in the nude.

He’s already knocking at the front door before I reach the kitchen.

“Lila,” he whispers loudly. “Are you awake? Lila!”

Why is he whispering?

The nearest house is a half-mile away and he obviously doesn’t mind waking me. I open the door and see him leaning against the porch railing. I notice he has a firm grip on the wooden post next to him. He smiles at me as if there isn’t anything unusual about showing up at a woman’s house uninvited in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” he says. “Were you asleep?”

“I was.”

He looks disappointed.

“Oh...I saw your bedroom light on when I pulled up so I thought you might be still awake. That’s why I knocked on the door.”

“I’m awake because I heard your motorcycle roaring down the road. The sound could wake the dead.”