Gemma pouted. “I’m traumatized. Brooks! My mom! There was—there was cavorting.” Tansy snickered. “Cavorting? Really?” “Yes,” Gemma stressed, hands clutching Tansy’s waist over her coat. “Cavorting.” “Oh, the horror,” she said, all mock severity. “And we know what cavorting leads to.” Gemma’s brows rose. “Canoodling,” she whispered, bursting into laughter at the horrified look on Gemma’s face.
