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“No, I did not. You were all hammered.”

“Then how did you end up here?” Lydia muttered.

“I’m getting to that! So, we disconnect, but minutes later Harrison is on the blower telling me you three wanted to start decorating Lydia’s house. Apparently, you stumbled your way here. Harrison was concerned and asked me to come over. He wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“He’s a good one,” Fe remarked. Cathy smiled in acknowledgement.

“So, I did my civil duty and came over.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad,” Cathy shrugged.

“And when I arrived, you three were dancing in sexy lingerie.”

“Oh God, it was real.” Lydia’s pained moan elicited chuckles from the group. The front door opening gave them a few seconds of reprieve.

“Hey honey, I’m home,” Harrison called, dumping three bags of baked goods on the table. Leaning over, he kissed Cathy sweetly. “How you feeling, Cat?”

“Better now.”

“Good. Did Halle tell you what happened?”

“She was just delighting us with the story.”

“Excellent, carry on.”

Leaving Harrison to dish out breakfast and fix more coffee, Halle continued, far too happily in Lydia’s opinion. “As I was saying. You three were shaking your arses in underwear. Harrison arrived seconds after me. At first, neither of us knew what to do, to be honest. You ladies get feisty when you drink cocktails.”

“I still have scratches,” Harrison commented.

“Scratches?” Cathy’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, scratches. You tried to climb me like a bloody tree, woman.”

“Oh shit,” Fe laughed.

“As that was happening, you two,” Halle pointed at the Archer sisters. “Thought it was a good idea to do a show-and-tell with Lydia’s Cstar.” Any ounce of colour left in Lydia’s face drained. Please God, no!

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Lydia whispered.

“Fe had passed out on the living room floor by the time you got back from your bedroom. Cstar in hand,” Halle smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“Please tell me I passed out next.” Lydia was fucking mortified.

“Nope. You proceeded to show me how effective the thing was.”

Lydia’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. What the hell had she done?

“Don’t panic. You simply held the thing to the tip of my nose, changing the pulse settings. You were quite insistent that I tell you my favourite one, Lydia.”

What in the motherfucking hell was Lydia supposed to say to that? “I… Oh Jesus.”

Cathy burst out laughing. “And did she find out your favourite?”

“That’s for Lydia to remember,” Halle laughed.

“It was certainly entertaining.” Harrison added, sitting at the table with his book.

* * *