Preston Keaton let out a low chuckle, his voice a pleasant, deep rumble that sent a tingle through her ear. "Alright. I miss you a lot."
His tone was intimate, a gentle, coaxing whisper. "When are you coming back to Kryllos?"
"The day after tomorrow, I think. I have work."
Evelyn Grant looked down at the tips of her shoes, tapping them lightly on the ground. "What are you doing?"
"It's eight in the morning in Xylos. I just got up and am having breakfast."
Preston Keaton's fingers tapped lightly on the table. "You can drink, but don't have too much."
Evelyn Grant muttered under her breath, "I know."
'First, Dylan Grant telling me not to drink, and now Preston Keaton reining me in. Whatever, the cat's away, the mice will play. When I get back to Kryllos, Yara Summers and I will drink as much as we want.'
