As Nate pulled the car into their garage, he said, “I just remembered something.”
“What?”
“Remember our first trip up I-75 in your Mustang?”
“Sure.”
“I wanted to see how fast it would go, and you reminded me of the consequences of getting too many tickets.”
“That I did.”
“You also promised me something,” Nate said.
“I did?”
“Yes you did. You said you knew some back roads where I could safely give all those horses free rein, but we never got around to doing that.”
“Put it on our calendar for Friday or Saturday night, babe, and we’ll do it.”
“I’m going to hold you to it, this time.”
“That’s not a problem.”
They exited the car and went into their house.
“It’s nice, not having to carry luggage, isn’t it?” Nate said—a reference to the complete wardrobes they’d begun maintaining in their mountain home.
“That’s true, although I think we ought to keep at least one overnight case in the car for emergencies,” Quentin said.