On Saturday—New Year’s Day—after we’d exchanged well wishes and an enthusiastic lip lock, I told Mack that he wouldn’t be working nights anymore, since the season of mischief was now over. I promised to be home before nine that evening, and we would finish what we started a week ago. That wasn’t to say that we hadn’t stolen a few kisses and gropes as we traded shifts. But we could finally spend some quality time together, then come in on Sunday morning to do some training.
As expected, it was very slow at work, and no one stopped by to either access storage or inquire about rates. Which was all well and good, since my mind wasn’t anywhere near focused on the tasks at hand.
I decided to leave early and head to the grocery store to get some wine, since I knew it would have reopened by now,
