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voice.
    “I’m not worried. Dakota could beat up anyone with her stilettos. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to haul her ass off. Besides, like you said, what could possibly go wrong in a public amusement park?”
    “Well, don’t be counting on my spikes big, sis. You’re gonna have your own set of streetwalkers.”
    I gawked at her. Laughter from the three stooges poured out of the speakers.
    “You have Cheyenne wearing stilettos?” Harris guffawed. “Miss Queen of the running shoe?”
    “It may be once a year, Harris, but Miss Thang over here cleans up pretty damn good,” Dakota defended.
    “Hey, I have an idea, H. Why don’t you dress up and help me with the research tonight? I’ve got an extra cola can worth twenty bucks off the ticket admission. It’ll take you a couple hours to get here if you leave Tampa before rush hour.”
    “Negatory on that one, Chey,” Harris replied. “You aren’t gonna find my happy ass in any haunted house either. I don’t care if it’s in the name of research or not. I think I’ll pass. What about Roxas? He doesn’t live too far out of town. Kissimmee, right? You two could meet and get this virtual love affair crossed over into the real world, ya know?”
    My eyes bugged out of my head as the temperature in the room skyrocketed into the nineties. Or maybe it was just me.
    Briggs acknowledged the bold suggestion with a, “Oooh. No he didn’t!”
    Dakota’s face flushed beet red. It mimicked my anxiety. Mine must have been pure crimson from the sweat pouring off me and down my breasts. I wiped my hands up the back of my neck to remove the perspiration beading out of my hair. No towels around, I wiped it onto my jeans.
    Dakota reached out for my hand, but it was too late. The words were out, and no one could deny they had been spoken.
    I wanted to change the subject. I wanted to crawl under the counter and hide. I wanted to write QUEST FAILED on the screen and sign off the conference call, but I couldn’t do any of those things. We had to wait for Roxas to respond to the question.
    The next time I see Harris, I’m gonna go all 1972 Hitchcock Frenzy Necktie Killer on his ass.
    “You don’t have anything else to do tonight, do ya, Rox?” Harris pushed the paused silence further.
    I closed my eyes and dropped my head between my knees. I couldn’t believe Harris was doing this to me. Not wanting to put Roxas on the spot, I hedged. “That’s okay. I’m gonna be real busy with Sheridan.” Afraid he would say no or worse, say yes. I sensed my breakfast on the verge of reverse engines.
    Dakota handed me a paper bag and mimed breathing into it. I pushed it away.
    “I’ve got lots of research to do on my phobias. No worries.” My voice shook with a stuttering of stops and goes. “Y-you know me, all work and no p-play.”
    “Yeah, makes you an ‘ole dried-up hag.”
    “Shut the hell up, Harris,” Dakota snapped.
    She might be my bratty little sister, but damned if anyone ever picked on the three of us. They’d never get away with it. The O’Cuinn sisters fought to the death to protect one another. I felt sorry for the saps who would marry us one day.
    Beano stood up from his bed and nudged my sweaty palm. I tried to breathe in the confidence Lady Cazenove always exuded. How would she handle this moment? The tension over the headsets seemed as thick as the humidity outside.
    Why doesn’t he answer the freakin’ question?
    “Bloody hell … sorry about that, Cheyenne,” Roxas said.
    My heart fell into my stomach. Now I knew I was going to get sick.
    “My microphone was on mute, and I couldn’t get the damn thing to unstick. I’ve been talking all this time, but you guys couldn’t hear me.”
    I swallowed.
    “Okay. Perhaps we could meet at the park. Around ten, maybe?” he asked.
    I sat stone cold, unable to move or react to his words.
    Dakota picked up my water bottle and urged me to drink. I thought she always looked funny when she bobbed her head and