As Carter turned toward his house, Del tipped her face up for a kiss. “Why don’t you make a point of it?”

He shifted to get out, nudged Parker on the shoulder. “You’re not still mad.”

She gave him a long look. “I’m only not still mad because we won the ball game and he’s a good dancer. Try that again, and I’ll make you hurt.”

“You had fun.” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for the lift. See you all later. You men, sooner. Poker night.”

He stepped out, gave a wave, then headed up the walk to his door.

Laurel argued with herself for nearly a quarter mile.

“Stop! Stop! Pull over.”

“Oh, honey, are you sick?” Emma straightened in her seat, swiveled around.

“No, no, just ...This is stupid. It’s all just stupid.” She wrenched the door open. “Screw the bet. I’m going to Del’s. Go home.”

She ignored the cheers and slammed the door.

“Wait.” Carter stuck his head out. “I’ll drive you back. Just—”

“No.Thanks. Go.”

And turning, she began to run.

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER TEN

AS HE TOSSED HIS KEYS IN THE LITTLE BOWL ON HIS DRESSER, plugged his cell phone into its charger, Del considered a quick swim before he turned in. Something physical, he thought, to take the edge off the sexual frustration and help him sleep. He pulled off his shirt, his shoes, and headed down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

It was the right thing to do, this waiting. Laurel held too important a place in his life—played too intricate a part—to rush this change between them.

She wasn’t just an interesting, attractive woman. She was Laurel. Tough and funny, smart and resilient Laurel McBane. She had so many of the qualities he admired in a woman—and all in one sexy package.

All these years, he mused, he’d considered that package off-limits. Now that she—he—they, he decided, had torn down the restrictions, he wanted her more than he’d anticipated.

It added another reason for the wait.

Impulse was great; he was a fan of acting on impulse. But not when it came to someone who mattered as much as she did, and on so many complicated levels. Slow and sensible, he reminded himself. It was working, wasn’t it? In a short amount of time they’d learned things about each other neither of them had explored in all the years they’d known each other.

They’d spent the holiday together as they’d spent countless others—but in a whole new light, with an entirely different approach. That was the sort of thing they needed to do more of before they took the next step.

He was fine with it; he was good with it.

He wondered if the month would ever end.