Christine carried Adele up to the second-floor bedroom and sat her down in front of the washbasin.
"Wash your face. Let the drink wear off a little."
"Heh. I'd like it better if you washed me."
Adele lifted her head and smiled, giddy and unsteady. Her cheeks had gone a soft, flushed rose, so adorable it made him want to reach out and shake her by the shoulders. Just then, her face looked almost like an innocent little girl's.
"You really do come up with everything, don't you."
Laughing despite himself, caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement, Christine felt a sudden, mischievous urge take hold of him.
Trickle, trickle.
He tipped the water pitcher over her head, and—
"Ah, cold!"
Adele shrieked and flailed.
Watching her flounder like a half-drowned little mouse, he grinned like a boy who'd just gotten away with something.
"Well? Sobered up a little now?"
"I…
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