The languid, playful little laugh that got out of her probably told Booker exactly how much andy would indulge him in the realm of things like cuddles and kisses: anything. And everything.

So Andy just kissed him back, soft and sweet and delightful as they settled down in the afternoon sun with her body tucked against his as if it belonged there. It did. "You'll just have to spend more time out here to fix it, then," she murmured, sweeping her fingertips along the curve of Booker's ribs. "And who knows what you could get into doing that."

She smiled.

"Or what could get into you. Either way."