Nothing she’d imagined had come close to those moments, and here alone in the quiet she could revel in them. She could remember each one and savor it.

What happened next was anyone’s guess, but now, right this minute, she had what she’d always wanted.

She almost floated up the stairs and into her room. Full day ahead of her, she thought, but God, she wanted to chuck it all and just flop down on the bed, kick her heels at the ceiling, and wallow.

Couldn’t be done, but she could wallow in a long, long hot shower. She stripped off her damp clothes, hung them over a towel bar, pulled out the hair clip she’d dug out of her purse to handle the mess of it. Still grinning, she stepped under the hot spray.

She was basking in the steam and the scent when she caught a movement outside the glass door. It amazed her the scream she ripped out didn’t crack the glass.

“Jesus, Laurel, it’s just me.” Mac opened the door a crack. “I knocked, then I shouted, but you were too busy singing to hear me.”

“A lot of people sing in the shower. What the hell do you want?”

“Not a lot of people who are us sing ‘I’ve Got Rhythm’ in the shower.”

“I wasn’t singing that.” Was she? And now it would be stuck in her head all day. “You’re letting out the heat. Go away.”

“What’s taking you so long?” Emma demanded as she came in.

“Parker?”

“Gym,” Emma answered Mac. “But I told her what’s up.”

“For God’s sake, has it escaped the notice of you morons that I’m taking a shower?”

“Smells good,” Mac commented. “You’re clean. Get out. We’re having pancakes in honor of the anticipated sexy breakfast story.”

“I don’t have time for pancakes.”

“Mrs. G will make them.”

“We just had waffles.”

“Oh, you’re right. Omelettes. We’ll have sexy breakfast story omelettes. Ten minutes,” Emma ordered. “The men are banned from breakfast.”

“I don’t want to—”

But Mac shut the shower door. Laurel pushed dripping hair out of her eyes. She could sneak down to her own kitchen, but they’d just come in and nag her. Resigned, she got out and grabbed a towel.

When she walked into the kitchen twenty minutes later, she found Mac and Emma already there, the table set, and Mrs. Grady at the stove.

“Listen, I have a really full day, so—”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Mac said piously.

“So speaks the Pop-Tart Princess. I really need to get started.”

“You can’t hold back.” Emma wagged a finger. “We shared ours, and Mrs. G’s already making sexy breakfast story omelettes. Right, Mrs. G?”