visiting

"Stanley—"

Ray growled at Vecchio, who just lifted a hand and waved it loosely, because this was their shtick. They kept it up just to make the Mountie crazy and they had to stay in practice.

"—Kowalski."

"Yeah?"

Fraser was inside the house, thanking Stella and Vecchio's housekeeper for breakfast and probably wheedling her recipe for huevos rancheros from her. Vecchio hadn't been kidding when he wrote that Rosalita's cooking was worth the trip south. Of course, Vecchio was lucky that Stella considered having a housekeeper upscale enough to be acceptable, because Ray could testify under oath that Stella could not cook.

"Where you two headed next?" Vecchio asked.

Ray was leaning against the hood of the GTO and just soaking up the sun and it took a second to fire up his brain and come up with an answer. It felt so damn good to be wearing just a T-shirt and jeans again, after spending so many months under more layers than a Mummy.

"South."

"We're in Miami, Kowalski," Vecchio said impatiently. He patted the roof of the GTO absently and snatched his hand back. Black paint got hot fast. "There's not much further south you can go without a passport."

Ray shrugged. He just wanted to drive for a while. Hey had pretty much made the decision to leave the GTO with Vecchio when he and Fraser headed back north. At least the Style Pig appreciated a good automobile. He figured to call it a belated wedding present and freak Stella out again. Him and Fraser sharing a bedroom and the bed had pretty much fried her circuits already, but giving up the GTO, that was big. That was admitting him and Canada were a permanent thing. Which they were. This was just the last hurrah with the car before it was back to snow shoes and sled dogs.

Fraser had insisted that Ray had to come back to the States one last time before making his decision to stay. Like Ray was going to change his mind once he had access to pizza and cable TV again. Instead, Ray had decided they would tell everyone that didn't already know the score. Once they'd finished in Chicago and Ray's dad hadn't stroked out, Fraser had suggested they visit the Vecchios.

Ray hadn't been exactly enthusiastic, but he'd gone along and now he was glad he had. Stella's slack jawed speechlessness had been worth the drive, but the funniest thing of all had been Vecchio, who had taken the whole thing in stride, when even Fraser had thought he would go ballistic.

Vecchio had shrugged, looked Ray straight in the eye, and said, "Fraser mostly does what he wants. Guess that includes doing you, Stanley." After that, the visit had been a breeze, punctuated by Rosalita's amazing cuisine. Ray thought he'd even gained a pound or two.

Fraser still had a week and half of off-time before reporting back to his post, though, and Ray thought it was time to get the Mountie off somewhere by themselves.

"Thought we'd check out Margaritaville."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Kowalski," Vecchio exclaimed. "You do not want to take Fraser there."

"Why not?" Ray demanded, getting irritated. What the hell was Vecchio's problem all of a sudden?

Then he saw the Italian had a wide, smirking smile plastered on is mug. Vecchio's green eyes were just sparkling too.

"Kowalski," Vecchio said. "Pay attention. Think. This is Fraser. You really think listening to Jimmy Buffett songs and drinking overpriced tequila is worth having to fight off every guy on Key West?"

Ray took a second to get it, then croaked, "North. Gonna go north."

"Good idea, Stanley."