“Are you sure?”

“I like to get my hand in now and then. Go on.”

“Thanks. Thanks,” she repeated, laying a hand over Mrs. Grady’s. “I’ll make sure you get that cake.”

Alone, Mrs. Grady shook her head and sighed. Her girls, she thought, knew all there was to know about weddings. But love turned them upside down.

Then again, she supposed love was meant to do just that.

WHEN THE HOUSE CLEARED, LAUREL JOINED THE OTHERS FOR A little unwinding on the terrace. Del put a glass of champagne in her hand.

“You earned it.”

“Damn well did. Thanks. Where’s Parker?”

“Something to do.” Mac stretched out her legs, curled her tired toes. “She’ll be right down. Sorry I missed the Battle of the Mothers. I heard it was worth the price of admission.”

“Brief but brutal.” Laurel yawned and thought of fluffy pillows and cool, cool sheets.

“Do you have many wrestling matches?” Mal wondered.

“I got punched in the face once.” Carter wiggled his jaw.

“It adds an element,” Mal decided. “Good food. Great cake.” He lifted his beer in toast to Laurel, then watched Parker come out looking as if she’d spent the day sipping tea rather than riding herd on a couple hundred people.

“Your winnings,” she said and handed him an envelope.

“Thanks.” He hiked up a hip to stuff it in his pocket. “So you do all this again tomorrow?”

“Hugely.” Emma groaned. “We usually have smaller events on Sundays, but this time of year we have plenty of big ones. And with that in mind, I’m going to bed.”

“Better walk my girl home.” Jack stood to take Emma’s hand. “I’ll drop the truck off on Monday, Mal.”

“Got it. Better get going myself.”

“Thanks for pitching in.” Mac stretched. “Come on, Professor. Let’s go home and kick the cat out of bed.”

“Can’t move yet.” Pleased it was close, Laurel dropped her head on Del’s shoulder. “Need a minute. Bye, Mal,” she added. And closed her eyes.

“I’ll walk you out. See the rest of you tomorrow,” Parker added as she turned to lead Mal around the house.

With her head still on Del’s shoulder Laurel opened her eyes. “I knew breeding would do it.”

“Hmm?”

“Parker’d be obliged to walk Malcolm out if I stuck here with you. They look good together.”

“What? Come on.”

She made an effort to clear her fuzzy brain, then gave up and closed her eyes again. “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. Of course there are no sexual sparks there, nothing smoldering beneath the surface. Nope, nothing there at all.”

“He’s not her type.”

“Exactly. No obsessing unless it’s about me. Haul me up, will you?”

“If he’s not her type, why the talk about sparking and smoldering?”

“It was probably me.” She laughed as he pulled her to her feet. “I get sparky and smoldery when you’re around.”

“Good one. Excellent way to shift my attention.”

“And true.” She felt wobbly, and half drunk with fatigue. “Are you staying the night?”

“That was the plan.”

He glanced toward the door as they approached the stairs, and Laurel knew damn well he considered strolling out just to ... be Del, she decided, when it came to Parker.

“See, I’m sparking and smoldering again.” She nudged ahead of him, stepped up to bring their mouths on level for a kiss.

“Sweetie, you’re all but asleep on your feet.”

“True, which makes me a lousy Saturday night date.”

“I like to look ahead, to Sunday morning.”

“A Sunday morning date sounds perfect,” she said as they walked upstairs. “Especially since it’s an evening event, and I don’t have to be up at dawn. How about eight o’clock?”

“Eight works.”

“How about meeting me in the shower?”

“A Sunday morning shower date? Even better.”

She drew him into the bedroom, then remembered to shut the door—something she rarely if ever did. Something she rarely had reason to do. She walked over to the terrace doors. “I like these open on summer nights. Does that bother you?”

“No. I didn’t hear Parker come in yet. Is she still out there?”

Laurel rolled her eyes, considered the options. Turning she shed her suit jacket, slowly unzipped her skirt. “Maybe I’m not so tired after all.” She stepped out of the skirt so she wore only a chemise, panties and heels. “Unless you are.”

“I’m getting an unexpected second wind.”

“Must be the fresh air.” And moving to him she put a great deal of effort into distracting him. It was the least she could do, she thought as his hands went to work. For friendship.

CHAPTER TWELVE

PARKER POKED HER HEAD INTO LAUREL’S KITCHEN. “GOT A minute?”

“Yeah. I thought you had a consult and a tour.”

“Had both, did both.”

Laurel scraped vanilla beans into the mixture of milk and sugar in her saucepan, added the pods. “How’d we do?”

“The consult nailed down several details, and added more. The tour booked the last Sunday we had available next May.” She glanced toward the mudroom, and the sheet of plywood blocking it off from the space and the banging and buzzing beyond it. “It’s not as noisy as I thought it might be.”

“Not if I keep the TV or radio on, and pretend it’s background noise at an event. Could be worse. Well, it was worse during the demo, so this is almost tranquil.”

“And it’ll be worth it, right? With all the extra space.”

“So I keep telling myself.”

“What are you making?”

“Pastry cream.”

“Want something cold?”

“Wouldn’t mind.” Laurel prepared an ice water bath for the last stage as Parker fixed two glasses of lemonade.

“No date tonight, right?”

“No date. The guys are off to cheer the Yankees and eat hot dogs.” Laurel glanced up, arched her eyebrows. “Girl night?”

“I’m thinking. Especially as I think I found Emma’s wedding dress.”