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“She offered to help.”

“This is worse than rolling my truck.”

“Don't be a baby.”

But Emmie's presence turned furniture shopping into a group activity that involved way too much discussion about throw pillows and accent colors. Every decision required a committee vote, and I was definitely outnumbered.

“This lamp is perfect for that corner by the window,” Emmie called again. “You have to see this.”

I looked at Joy, who was already heading toward Emmie's voice. “Do I have to see this?” I prayed she’d say no.

“Yes, you have to see this.” She grabbed my hand, and I followed her to the lamp section. We passed through a maze of furniture displays, dining sets, bedroom suites, and enough decorative accessories to make my eyes bleed. No wonder I’d never gone furniture shopping. Emmie stood next to a floor lamp that looked like a designer had stolen some parts from a whorehouse.

“Isn't this gorgeous?” Emmie gestured at the lamp like she was presenting a prize on a game show. “The brushed nickel finish will go with everything, and the shade gives off such warm light.”

Joy nodded appreciatively. “It's beautiful.”

I shuddered.

“Maybe we should keep looking,” I said.

Both women turned to look at me with expressions that suggested I'd just insulted their mothers.

“Now that we find the perfect thing, you finally have an opinion. You don’t understand. It’s a statement piece,” Emmie explained with exaggerated patience. “It sets the mood for the entire room.”

“The mood for sex,” I grumbled. Then I brightened. “Actually, we should get it.”

“Graham.” Joy's voice carried a warning. “Be nice.”

My phone rang before I could dig myself deeper into this particular hole. Simon's name flashed on the screen, and I'd never been happier to take a phone call in my life.

“How's it going?” Simon asked, and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

I stepped away from the girls so they couldn’t hear me. “I'm in furniture shopping hell. Send backup.”

“That bad?”

“We've been to three stores. They're debating lamp shades. I'm about to fake a medical emergency.”

Simon laughed. “Hang in there, Graham. It'll be over soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

I glanced at Joy and Emmie, who were now examining throw pillows like they were a new weapons system. Joy held up two pillows that looked identical to me but apparently must have been different somehow.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“I’ve got to get the hell out of here,” I told Simon, my voice desperate.

I ended the call and walked back to where Joy was testing the softness of couch cushions. She looked up at me with those blue eyes that still knocked the breath out of me.

“Everything okay?”

“No, actually. Something came up, and Simon needs me at the office. It’s about that new case. I’m really sorry about this.”

“Oh no. I hope it’s nothing bad.” Joy’s big blue eyes gave me a concerned look. Emmie squinted at me suspiciously.

“It’s just something that he thinks I can handle quickly, and he really wants my help. You know I owe him, baby.”