For a moment, Maggie could see it all as she peered out the window above the sink to the terrace and fountain. Couples swaying to the music. Firelight. Bubbles in the champagne. And the twinkle-eyed Mrs. Campbell from the portrait raising a glass to the mustachioed Mr. Campbell.

“You both know an awful lot of history about this place,” Maggie noted.

“History is important,” Kayla responded. “The Old West is still new by comparison.”

“And you have to admit, famous authors and fancy parties are a lot more fun than bridges being built or battles fought.” Nirina had a good point.

“We’re programmed to gravitate toward stories,” Maggie agreed and dumped colorful salt onto a plate, directed by Kayla. Methodically, she salted three rims.

“A virgin for the preggo,” Kayla said, pouring the mixture over ice in the first glass and handing it to her partner.

“There is nothing virgin about me,” Nirina said, gesturing at her belly.

“Quit bragging. You know my fear of my virginity growing back,” Kayla complained. She opened the tequila and started pouring. “I promise you, Maggie, that we’re incredible businesswomen. Consummate professionals.”

“But we also love a good time,” Nirina said proudly.

With a flourish, Kayla stirred the margarita mixture with a long-handled spoon. “Moment of truth,” she said, pouring directly into two glasses. She handed a glass to Maggie and took the other. “To the beginning of a beautiful, successful friendship.”

“Cheers,” Maggie said. She raised her glass and took a sip. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Kayla here is a genius when it comes to recipes of any kind,” Nirina said proudly. “Now, if one of you ladies can crane my butt out of this chair, we can take our drinks on the road so I can see the upstairs of this place.”

“You need that bed,” she announced five minutes later when Maggie opened the bedroom door. “It was made for this room. The arches in the headboard are almost a perfect mimic of the balcony doors. And you could repeat it with the bathroom entry on the opposite wall.”

It was a great idea that would add drama and personality. Plus, Dean would have a fit about custom bathroom doors. Maggie grinned and took another sip of her excellent margarita.

“I don’t know how you walked out of the shop without it,” Kayla agreed. “Is it willpower or self-deprivation? Because I could use whatever it is every time I come face-to-face with the bakery case at the café.”

“A little bit of both,” Maggie admitted. “I don’t usually—ever—stage a house until the very end.” Besides, if she bought the bed, she’d be compelled to use it. And not just for sleep. Once that line was crossed with Silas, it would complicate things. He would complicate things. She wasn’t sure if she was prepared for complicated.