The Harley started up, revved, and pulled out of Madison’s driveway. She put her back against the door and huffed out a great, long sigh, rubbing her face vigorously with both hands. Was it possible that she was on the brink of hooking up with Trigger Daniels? She didn’t want to be Little Wilma Wedding-bells, but she thought she might be able to stay with someone like Trigger for a long time.

A very long time.

Of course, she understood that they would both be prone to putting their best foot forward during the beginning of the mating dance. Later is what counted. Would he still be putting his best foot forward later, when he’d already danced the horizontal mambo with her a few times or would he grow bored, tired, and decide he needed another dance partner?

That’s why she’d never conceded to a serious relationship before. She’d had boyfriends and she’d had lovers, but never had she thought she would be with any one of them for very long. They had all seemed just what they were—passing interests. Just after college, she’d also woken up beside her fair share of Alcohol Adams. This was the nickname she gave her one night, alcohol-induced flings: Alcohol Adams.

Going upstairs for a shower, Madison was careful to make certain she locked the door this time. She couldn’t cope with a surprise visit from anyone right now; her nerves would probably cause her to have a heart attack if she got out of the shower and someone was in her house unannounced.

Not bothering to grab any clothes, Maddy went straight into the bathroom, set her phone to her playlist, and turned the volume to its highest setting. She did, however shut and lock the bathroom door, also.

The steaming hot shower was sublime. She stood in the cascade of liquid heat until her muscles stopped quivering.

After the long and hot shower, Madison dried and dressed in her night pants and a baggy shirt that she’d never wear out in the daylight—she’d had it since her senior year of college and the writing was faded beyond recognition and the cloth was see-through thin from all the washings.

Though she didn’t go out, she did order Chinese food to be delivered before the restaurant closed for the night. It was almost ten when she decided to call it in and it was at her door thirty minutes later. The delivery boy took in an eye full as he waited for her to pay, too. She hadn’t bothered to cover up or to put on a bra before answering the door.

Taking out a bottle of vodka, she sat down in front of her television to watch some late night horror flicks and eat Chinese food. Probably not the healthiest time to be eating such things, but she didn’t have to work the next day and she was hungry. She was hungry for more of Trigger Daniels, but that would have to wait.

Madison decided she could wait. Maybe not for very long, but she could wait. The waiting would make it all the more pleasing when they finally hooked up.

The more she drank, the more her mind wandered back to her encounters with Trigger. The attic, where it had been muggy hot, had been nice. He’d shown that he wanted her. But, at the front door, when he’d put her hand on his erection and flexed it under her touch—that was sizzling hot and now she wished she had handled the situation and his cock differently.

Four hours into drinking, and long after her appetite for Chinese had been sated, Maddy did a half-assed job of putting the leftover food in the fridge and wobbled her way up the stairs and to her bed.

That night her alcohol-laden brain coughed up all sorts of erotic images and scenarios in which she and Trigger hooked up. When she woke up the next day, it was nearly noon. She thought she might have had a couple of wet dreams in which she actually reached climax from the sticky feeling between her thighs.

Groaning, she rolled to the side of the bed and tossed back the covers. She headed for the bathroom and another shower.

By the time she was done in the shower, Madison was thirsty and her head ached dully with the warning of a hangover if she wasn’t careful. Hydration was the key to keeping the beast at bay. She definitely did not want to have a hangover headache when Trigger showed up later.

Breakfast was a toasted blueberry bagel with cream cheese and a cup of strong, black coffee to go with a bottle of water.

Afterward, she swallowed three aspirin, another bottle of water, and went to the living room to watch television for a few hours. She would rather be reading, but that would strain her eyes and possibly set off the migraine beast, or working on her sculpture, but it would already be hot and muggy in the attic and she was certain that would set her hangover into high gear. So, she kicked back on the sofa, found some no-brainer show and relaxed.

It had been so long since she’d just kicked back in her own house that she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about it. Then she dozed off. Waking at ten to three, Maddy sat groggily on the edge of the sofa. The air had gone hot in the house while she slept, but she did at least feel human again.

Refreshed from her long nap, she turned on the air conditioning and heated some of her leftover Chinese food for her late lunch and sat at the kitchen table reading through emails on her phone while she ate in silence. The only sounds were the occasional passing vehicle far out on the road and the sound of the air conditioning. The silence was a welcome respite from the constant noise of the past months.

At four, she was overpowered by a sense of happiness and eagerness. These things had been in her life, but not to this degree since she started college and had her first taste of real freedom.

Bouncing and head-bopping up the stairs, she disappeared into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup before Trigger visited.

When the doorbell rang at precisely five, Madison was thrilled and ran downstairs to answer the door.