Savor the Moment
Page 76

“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.”
“If I want a dip, I’ll use the pool. Stop it!”
“Can’t come to the seashore without getting in the sea.” He waded right in with her over his shoulder, then tossed her.
She managed one short curse, then held her breath.
The cool water closed over her head, and she felt sand swim in every-damn-where as she pushed herself up. When she blinked the salt water out of her eyes, she saw him standing about waist high and grinning.
“Damn it, Del. It’s cold.”
“Refreshing,” he corrected, and dived under an oncoming wave. She, of course, didn’t see it coming. Knocked down, breathless, carrying yet more sand, she started to push up again, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“You’re so pushy, Brown.”
“Got you in, didn’t I?”
“I like to look at the ocean, swim in a pool.”
“We don’t have an ocean at home,” he pointed out. “Here comes another one.”
At least she was prepared this time, rolled with the wave—and had the satisfaction of shoving him under. He only surfaced laughing. Since she was wet, sandy, and covered with salt, she struck off to swim past the breakers. As her skin and muscles warmed, she had to admit Del had a point.
They didn’t have an ocean at home.
She dived under again, just for the pleasure of it. And once more, his hands closed around her waist.
“That’s far enough out.”
“Pushy,” she said again.
“Maybe.” But he wrapped around her so they bobbed. She felt him take a few strong kicks to bring them closer to shore. What the hell, she decided, and, relaxing against him, let him do the work.
She watched her friends, on shore and sea, listened to the sounds of voices, of surf, of music.
“I could get myself back to the beach,” she told him. “Like I could’ve gotten myself in the water in the first place if I’d wanted to.”
“Yeah, but then I couldn’t do this.” He shifted her, took her mouth as the water rocked them.
Once again she was forced to admit he had a point.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SHE WANTED TO BAKE. MAYBE IT WAS THE LIGHT PITTER-PATTER of morning rain outside the windows that turned the beach into a pearly watercolor—or just several days running without doing much more in the kitchen than making coffee or nuking some popcorn.
Laurel supposed it was the same as Parker sneaking off for a couple of hours every day to huddle over her laptop, or Mac with her camera. And hadn’t Emma hunted up a flower shop so she could buy armloads to arrange around the house?
After a few days of sleeping in, lazing around, after the long walks and nightly game fests, she just wanted to get her hands in some dough.
She’d already checked out the pantry, noting that Del knew her well enough to stock the basics, and with some surprise realized he paid enough attention to what she kept in her own pantry to shelve more specifics toward professional baking.
But he didn’t know everything, she thought, because she was in the mood for pies.
She made a mental list, knowing it depended on what she found once she got to the market.
She left a note for Parker.
Gone to market. Borrowed your car.
L.
And grabbing the keys and her purse, set out on what she thought of as a little adventure.
IN THE GYM, PARKER WATCHED THE RAIN AS SHE FINISHED UP HER cardio session. She hadn’t turned on the news as was her habit—a concession to the holiday. Whatever was going on in the world just had to wait until she got back home.
With the exception of her brides. But really, she thought, it hadn’t been too bad. A scatter of calls, a handful of problems and concerns she’d been able to handle long-distance.
In fact, it was satisfying to know she could be away and still deal with what needed to be done.
She smiled as she spotted Mac, her shock of red hair covered in a ball cap, her windbreaker a bright blue flash as she headed down to the rain-washed beach with her camera.
They could get away from home, Parker thought, but not from what they were.
She watched a moment longer, then walked over to switch the music to something less driving for the rest of her workout.
It was such a treat to take as much time as she wanted, not to watch the clock, not to adjust her routine to meet an appointment or dig into a chore.
She opted to make use of the barre, started off with some plies.
When Mal walked in she had her foot on the barre and her nose to her knee.
“Bendy,” he commented, then lifted his eyebrows when she stared at him. “Do you have a problem with me getting some time in?”
“No, of course not.” It irritated her that she caught herself, too often, stiff and ungracious around him. So she made a deliberate effort to be friendly. “Help yourself. You can change the music if you want. It won’t bother me.” She refused to be bothered.