Chapter Thirty-Five:
Nick brought a grilled chicken home for dinner and watched Inga carve thick slices of meat and load up the plates. “How about a glass of wine?” she asked.
Nick poured gravy across a slice of breast meat. “Mmm. Nice idea.”
Inga went to the fridge and took the cellophane from around the crystal goblet.
“How is it?” she asked after he took a tentative sip.
Nick wrinkled his nose. “Tastes a little funny. I dunno– off somehow.”
“It’s the end of the bottle. I can open a fresh one.”
Nick shrugged. “Naw. Don’t bother,” and he took another sip, “this is fine. Now tell me, how was your day?”
Inga watched him sip more wine and beneath the table, she circled the opening to her v****a with a fingertip. “I had a wonderful day,” she murmured, “and so did Cloey.”
Rudd stood a
