Birds took wing or strutted in the foam. Carter would likely know what they were, Laurel thought, but it was enough just to have them there, soaring, calling, pecking while the rising sun sparkled on the water.

When they turned back, they kept up the same steady pace until the house came into view again. Laurel reached over to touch Parker’s arm as she slowed.

“Just look at it. That’s where we’re going.”

“Don’t hate me, but it makes me think, wow, what a fabulous place for casual beach weddings.”

“I may have to hurt you.”

“I can’t help it. It is a fabulous place.”

“How many calls have you taken since we got here?”

“Only two. Okay three, but all easily handled. And I got a sunrise run on the beach and am now seriously jonesing for coffee. In fact ... last one there makes it.”

She took off in a sprint. Laurel was quick off the mark, but she already knew she’d be making the coffee. Parker ran like a damn cheetah.

Once she made the deck, she leaned over, hands on knees to catch her breath. “I was going to make the coffee anyway.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hate that you’re barely winded, but I’ll still make the coffee, and egg-white omelettes.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m in the mood.”

The others wandered down, probably lured by the scent of coffee and the music Parker turned on low.

Del leaned on the counter, shoving fingers through his sleep-tousled hair. “Why aren’t you still in bed with me?”

“Because I’ve already had a three-mile run on the beach, and my first cup of coffee.” She handed him one. “Shortly I’m having breakfast, which you can benefit by as I’m feeling generous.”

He gulped down coffee. “Okay,” he said and walked out onto the deck to flop into a chaise.

Emma stopped slicing fruit to roll her eyes in a look that clearly said: men.

“He gets away with it today because I’m in a very good mood.” She paused at the sound of an engine, shifted closer to the window. “Who could that be?”

Outside, Parker set a pitcher of juice on the table then glanced down to see Malcolm Kavanaugh remove his helmet. He gave his hair a shake as he swung off the motorcycle. “Nice little place you’ve got here,” he called up to Del, then headed up the stairs. He shot Parker a quick grin. “How’s it going, Legs? Looks like I’m in time for breakfast.”

He slid into the group, Laurel thought later. Parker might find him a little irritating, but he did slide in. By midmorning, they’d staked their territory on the beach with folding chairs, blankets, umbrellas, coolers. The air smelled of sea and sunscreen.

She’d nearly dozed off over her book, when Del plucked her bodily out of her chair.

“What? Cut it out.”

“Time for a dip.”