Enzo

“Come on, sunshine, have a little fun,” I teased from the other side of Honey’s bedroom door, now dressed for a late-night swim. I could hear her rummaging around, opening and closing drawers.

“I don’t think I have a swimsuit in here,” she objected, that soft voice of hers muffled through the door. “I have just about anything else, but—oh. Nevermind. One second.”

I chuckled a little under my breath, leaning beside her door. Dressed in ...