“And more,” he called back, wondering if he should keep sitting on the couch like a dope or if he should stand up and go to her.

She answered that question a moment later when she came striding out of the bathroom and toward the couch.

John was hit all over again by the sight of her long legs in those short red shorts. He liked her in a simple T-shirt with her wet hair in a messy knot. She looked like she had much more important things on her mind than how she looked, which he knew was the case even when she was in her fancy sundresses and high heels. Even so, this look felt private. Like in her casual clothes, she’d dressed for the honesty of this moment. Guest list: two. Well, three if you counted Ruth.

He grinned in surprise when instead of sitting back down on the cushion beside him, she plunked directly into his lap. Her long legs fell off to the side, and her arms went around his neck.

“I like you for your hairy legs,” she informed him crisply.

He laughed. He liked this rascally version of Mary. She seemed so light. So free. Free of insecurity, he realized.

Regret threatened to tidal wave him that he’d contributed to that insecurity with his stupid-ass comments about her age and their stages of life. But he swerved the feeling. He didn’t want to get bogged down in regret. Right now, he wanted to match her mood.

“There’s a hairy chest that goes with the hairy legs,” he told her.

Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, tugging the collar of his shirt a few inches and trying to peer down his spine. “And a hairy back as well?”

He laughed harder. “Not yet. But maybe someday. I can only aspire.”

She laughed too, cuddling into him. She was warm and smooth, and John fully succumbed to that humming zing that happened when two people touched with intention.

He glanced at the clock over his stove. It was 6:00 a.m. Could all this have possibly happened before an even remotely reasonable hour this morning? He had to be at work in an hour. Two hours at the latest, if he really pushed it, and he was willing to scramble for the rest of the day. Which he obviously was. Mary had to open her shop by nine.