Hank couldn’t rest. Zoe, complaining of a slight headache and blaming it on the ice-skating, had decided to take a nap for an hour or so in their own bunk on board Serenity, asking to be woken in good time to get ready for the evening’s activities.

“Hiding?” Hank teased.

“No. Just feel like having my own things around me. That’s all.”

“More likely it’s probably more because you didn’t eat breakfast that I saw.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Zoe pulled the bed cover back and pushed her boots off with her toes. “I didn’t see you eat that much yourself.” She peeled her pants off her legs and sat on the bunk.

“Just can’t seem to get the enthusiasm,” he admitted. “But I’m looking forward to tonight. I’ve been doing some research, and the Accordion has had some amazing reviews.”

“If their food is in the realms of two slivers of meat and one small vegetable, you might want to eat before we go.” She laid down, pulling the cover over her.

Hank shuddered. “Nah, someone was waxing lyrical on quantity as well as the quality.”

“Waxing lyrical, eh?”

He grinned. “Good, hot, and lots of it.”

Zoe puffed her cheeks out a little. “Lovely.”

He sat down next to her. “Are you sure it’s just a headache?” He touched her forehead. “You don’t have a temperature.”

“I’m sure.” She took his hand and pressed his palm to her lips. “You going to join me?”

“I don’t know. Was it just a nap you were after?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think maybe I’ll sit and read.”

“Shiny.” Zoe lay back, her hair fanned across the pillow. “Remember, wake me in good time.”

She slipped into sleep easily enough, something she’d learned during the war when there had been less soft beds and more hard battles, but Hank found it impossible to get into the novel he’d picked up. It was one of his favourites, too, with a half-clad buxom female on the front being menaced by a bare-chested man with a whip. Maybe it was the suggestion of abuse that had turned him off, but whatever it was eventually he tossed it onto the