Riley shook his head and took a swig of beer.

Hey. Aren't you on call? Should you be drinking?

Shut up, Riley said.

I thought you weren't supposed to drink when Shut the hell up, man.

Matt shrugged. Fine. Well, Kat looked good. Real good. She must be loaded.

Riley laughed and took off his own boots. His feet were achy and wet and he needed a shower. What he really needed, he knew, was a mercifully slow night on call and for Carrie to forget to contact him for about a week. He didn't have the patience to deal with her now. Lately, she'd been teetering on the line between ex-fiancйe and completely psycho ex-fiancйe. He sure as hell didn't want her to find out that the infamous Kat Cavanaugh had materialized. It could be the ticket to push ole Carrie right over the edge.

I'm thinking about becoming a Buddhist monk.

Matt hooted with laughter at Riley's lament, and Loretta howled right along for support. Hey, man, before you go taking a Norelco to your noggin, you should know that Lisa Forrester's been asking about you every day. Remember her? The second-shift dispatcher with the belly ring I was telling you about?

Wow, Matt. You sure can pick 'em. Riley was trying to take another sip from his beer bottle when Loretta head-butted his forearm, sending a slosh of foam onto the area rug.

See? Even the dog knows you're not supposed to be drinking on call.

Hey, Matt?

I know. I know. Shut up. And here I am, not only trying to find you a love connection but working construction for you nearly every damn weekendand this is the thanks I get?

Thanks, Matt. Riley didn't have the energy for a clever retort.

Well, as much as I'm enjoying this conversation, I gotta scoot. Matt straightened from his slouch, then grabbed his boots and his beer. I just wanted to make sure you were cool. You know, not oiling up Daddy's old twelve-gauge or something stupid.