Robin nodded.
“The thunder supersedes that, though.” Hendrix rubbed the plush fur at the scruff of Mag’s neck, and Robin’s lingering silence was apparently a tip-off.
“Wait. He does know that.” Hendrix smiled. “You haven’t been as secluded up here as you pretend.” He laughed again. “‘Cause horniness, supersedes your less powerful yearning for solitude.”
“No,” Robin said. “Maybe,” he amended. “But I assure you, visitors are rare, and no man, other than myself, has ever been in this bed.”
“No?” Hendrix practically winked. “How new is it?”
“I’ve had it several years.” Robin was deliberately vague, not wanting to put a timestamp on precisely how long ago Frank had died and he’d become even more of a recluse. He’d ordered the mattress by phone, paid with his credit card, and then picked it
