I got home at about nine o’clock. I was hungry. A pizza slice or something edible might be in the freezer. I had a surprise waiting.
Bunny sat on the stoop in front of my door, a big grocery bag on the sidewalk next to her. She gave me that doe-eyed look. I knew she was playing me, and it was working.
“Can I come in?”
“What for?” I wasn’t about to give in right away. I intended to be strong.
“I brought groceries. I can fix you some supper.”
Strong, my ass. I am one weak son-of-a-bitch. The combination of the woman I want and a home-cooked meal was too much. My resolve collapsed.
“Come on in,” I said with a heavy sigh.
We went into my apartment, and I tossed the cane in a corner and collapsed on the couch.
“I’ve had a day,” I said.
“You can tell me about it after I get this going.”
She took a bottle of wine out of the grocery bag and opened it.
Wine? I don’t drink wine. But my only jug of bourbon was at the office. So, I lit a cigarette and sipped the wine.
She unloaded the rest of the groceries. “I thought you quit smoking.”
“Not in months with an ‘R’.”
She got supper going on the stove and came over, pushed me onto my side against the back of the sofa, stretched out beside me, and began unbuttoning my shirt. She took the burned-down cigarette out of my mouth and stamped it out in the ashtray. The kiss she followed up with was to die for.
“The Spoiler,” I said.
“What?”
I said under my breath, “Two stones that pass in the night.”
“What?”
“Nothing, Bunny. Just thinking out loud.”
“Now you can tell me about your day,” she said, cuddling up and kissing my chest.
“Oh, nothing special,” I said. “Just your typical boring, routine day in the life of a private investigator.”
I lit my last cigarette ever and settled in.