”“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” I sang.She gave me a grin.“How’s the ankle?”Her grin straightened. “Are you really going to ask m... that every five minutes?”“Pretty much.”“It’s fine, Matt. The driving was harder than the walking!”I winced at all the clutch pushing that our mountains demanded on her left foot. “I can drive home,” I joked.She giggled. “We’ll worry about that later. If it turns out we have to live here for the rest of the week until my ankle heals up, I won’t be too upset about. I was more conscious than ever of my breasts, swelling and strapped painfully tight under my shirt."I think the tweed waistcoat is a first for The Widow, Mr Barrow. It looks tremendous by the way; I applaud your avant-garde sense of style. What do you think Stevens? Will it matter?"I felt a surge of adrenaline and my breath caught in my throat; if I removed the waistcoat and its concealing padding then it would be impossible not to notice the slim curves of my hips and narrow waist. I was so. More

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