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neck between his hands was much more satisfying. He’d squeeze until the pip-squeak’s eyes bugged out—
    “Yeah, I might give him a call,” she said, almost to herself.
    “You do that.”
    “I will.”
    “Fine.”
    “Fine!”
    Fuck! What the hell just happened here? Women were so fucking difficult! He should stick to his horses; they couldn’t talk. Still, some perverse and insanely jealous devil on his shoulder made him ask.
    “Eve?”
    “Hmm?”
    “I’m your friend, right?”
    Her voice softened, snarky tone gone. “Are you kidding? After all we’ve been through? We’re friends. Believe that.”
    “Then go with me tomorrow night.”
    “What? Like, with you?” Her voice rose on the last two words, incredulous.
    Yes! Finally, he’d penetrated her armor and gotten her attention.
    “Sure, with me. Two friends going to hang with the others. Why not?”
    “Well . . . sure. Okay, why not?” She sounded as amazed as he felt.
    “Great. I’ll pick you up around seven?”
    She blinked at him. “Sounds good.”
    And that would be the end of that Drake bullshit. Eve wanted a friend to blow the evening with? She had one right here, no need for that wimpy little flake. Sue him, but he felt pretty darned smug about derailing her plan before it was put into action.
    That settled, his mind drifted back to the guys not telling him about the upcoming night out. And he hated the logical conclusion.
    “Eve, I’m not going to fall off the wagon, if that’s what they’re worried about. I’ve come too far to fuck myself up.” If he said that a hundred more times, it would be true.
    “I’d be lying if I claimed they weren’t concerned, but I swear to you nobody was going to keep it a secret,” she insisted. “We all know you need us to be real around you. We’ve discussed it.”
    Wasn’t that special? Another top secret “Help Sean Recover” op. What a mortifying thought. But at least they cared and supported him, which was more than many recovering alcoholics had going for them. More than that, they were his family.
    “I appreciate it,” he said, more to ease her mind than his own.
    The rest of the ride was spent in silence, and once back at the station, the guys and Eve drifted off to get dry and then tackle various chores. After changing out of his wet clothes, Sean headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, just what he needed to chase away the chill from the river.
    “Oh yeah .” He made a beeline to the pot, already filling with the aromatic brew, and stepped around Six-Pack and Clay, who were lounging against the kitchen counter. “Is this the good stuff?”
    “Starbucks, man.” Six-Pack crossed his arms over his massive chest, grinning. “You know I won’t stock anything else.”
    “I always knew you were good for something besides taking up lots of space.”
    “And for his cooking,” Clay pointed out with enthusiasm. “It’s the big guy’s turn tonight, too. What are we having?”
    Six-Pack rolled his eyes. “You’re nothin’ but a giant stomach.”
    “There’s only one thing giant on me, bud, and it ain’t my belly,” their friend drawled, eyes dancing with humor. “Just ask Cherie, Beth, Stacy—or was it Tracy? Hmm.”
    “Man, don’t you take medication or something? Your attention span is shorter than Julian’s and that’s saying a lot.” The lieutenant snorted and shook his head. To Sean, he joked, “It’s a damned good thing he’s pretty, ’cause he doesn’t have a lick of sense.”
    “Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Clay batted his eyelashes and draped an arm over Six-Pack’s shoulders. “That’s so sweet!”
    “Get off me before I hurt you.” His laugh ruined the menacing tone.
    Chuckling, Sean fished in the cupboard, grabbing his favorite mug, which declared I AM the Boss of You , and pulled the old switchola with the pot, deftly replacing it with his mug.
    “Hey, no cuts!” Clay yelled good-naturedly.
    Sean replaced the pot and held up his