Bruce asked suspiciously, "What kind of cold stuff?"
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Stella said as she leaned into the hand cupping her right breast. She wrinkled her nose. "I hope to hell it isn't champagne."
Dooley winked at Bruce. "You've got to be kidding, Stell. Who ever heard of a bunch of dumb locals drinking anything except beer?"
Stella smacked her lips. "Yeah, how about that?"
Dooley started toward the door. Bruce's voice checked him. "By the way, Joe. What did you put in that sack Trish Asher took with her?"
Dooley winked again. "Green stuff, old buddy. Trish's favorite color. Nature's best. Something for her to remember us country bumpkins by… or wipe her ass with. Nice… wet… green leaves."
Laughter shook the lone window in the cabin.