They made love in the shower after Stacy mentioned that she didn't want to get sand or sunscreen in intimate areas. House didn't mind. There were lots of fun things to do in the shower, and you had soap and shampoo to use as props to spice things up a little.
After the shower, they lay together in bed. The windows of the beach house were enormous and didn't have any curtains, so they had to wear bathrobes in case some curious beachgoer decided to see what was going on in the rental places. With their luck, it would probably be some old guy in Bermuda shorts waving around a metal detector.
"What are you thinking?" Stacy asked, snuggling close to House.
House hated that question, mostly because he was never thinking of anything life-changing or important in situations when the question could be asked. And if you said you were thinking about an old guy with a metal detector peeping through your bedroom window—well, unromantic was one word for it.
"Nothing much," House said, deciding to be vague. He turned onto his side so he could look at her. "How about you?"
"I was thinking we should do this more often," Stacy said.
"Because between a doctor and a lawyer, we have so much free time," House said.
Stacy smiled. "I could bill fewer hours."
"Yeah, the partners at your firm would love that," House said.
"They're flexible," Stacy said.
House raised his eyebrows. "You like it too much to take fewer hours." Law for her was like medicine for him; it was an intellectual exercise. It was something interesting to think about during the day.
"I could be motivated into a lighter workload," Stacy said.
House knew she wanted him to ask what could motivate her to do such a thing, but he suspected he already knew. "I've been thinking maybe we could adopt. Not babies, because that's overdone. I was thinking of adopting a nineteen-year-old girl with big boobs—maybe someone who was up for Miss America, because gosh darn it, she deserved that scholarship."
"I'm sure her mind is why you're drooling on the pillow," Stacy said.
"Nothing sexier than a brain in a swimsuit," House said.
"Hard to find swimsuits that fit the brain these days," Stacy said.
That was a big reason House had gotten to like Stacy in the first place; she was always willing to engage with him verbally. Most people either didn't understand his sense of humor or didn't know what to say in response to his sardonic comments. Stacy was quick; Stacy was smart. And he loved the way her brain looked in a swimsuit.
"I was thinking we could ditch Wilson and Sara tonight," House said, "and I could make dinner."
Stacy nodded, but her forehead wrinkled, and she looked sad.
"Hey," House said, "what's the matter?"
Stacy shook her head. "After something this good, it's going to be hard to go back to normal life."
"This isn't Brief Encounter," House said. "We're sharing an apartment."
"I know," Stacy said, "but I'm always running in and out, and so are you. This week's been amazing, and I've spent real time with you." She played with the front of his bathrobe. "You're like a drug. I don't know if I can lower the dosage safely."
"Nobody says you have to," House said. "We'll make time, Stacy. We always do."
Stacy nodded. Then she laughed. "Look at me…I'm getting nostalgic about this vacation and it's not even over yet."
House didn't respond; he didn't think she particularly wanted a response. Instead, he took her in his arms, and they held each other close for a while.