Thao was laughing so hard now, she was crying, tears streaming down her face, and Avery, who had been struggling to maintain a look of stern relief, finally snorted. The sound was so unexpected, it cracked her composure, and she doubled over.
“It’s not funny!” Soleil barked, even as the corner of her mouth began to twitch.
Zuri couldn’t help it. Soleil’s failing determination to stay mad, Avery’s dreamy comment, Thao’s infectious laughter—the absurdity of the situation finally broke through. A snort escaped her. Then a giggle. Then she was laughing, too.
“Can you imagine,” Thao wheezed, barely able to get the words out, “the––the conversation security is having right now?”
“Oh my god!” Avery’s voice was so high pitched now, she was practically squeaking.
“They’re probably all in front of the security monitors,” Thao went on, “passing around bowls of popcorn, making bets on whether or not you’ll go back for round two!”
The image hit Zuri––those three serious guards in their blazers and the one who had given her that knowing smile at the door––and uncontrollable laughter burst out of her.
Soleil threw her hands in the air as Avery collapsed backward on the bed, a bright trumpet sound escaping from her butt when her knees crashed into her chest.
That did them all in.
Zuri slapped her hand on the sofa, trying to catch her breath.
Avery cried out for mercy, and blew another trumpet, louder this time. Thao slumped forward, grabbing her knees, then fell sideways onto the sofa, gasping for air. Even Soleil’s stern reserve finally broke. Her rosy lips parted as she clutched her stomach and fell backward on her bed in a peel of laughter. They laughed until they couldn’t breathe, until the tension and fear and absurdity of the whole situation had dissolved into something lighter.
When they finally calmed down, strewn across the furniture in various states of exhaustion, Soleil fixed Zuri with a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection.
“Okay, okay,” she said, “now, tell us everything.”
Zuri told them what had happened: the unexpected encounter with Kyree in the hallway, his firm body clad in wet swim trunks, and the cool confidence with which she’d sauntered up to him.
“And you just...went for it?” Avery asked, wonder in her voice. “I don’t think I would have had the courage.”
Zuri had had both the courage and the aching need from the moment she first set eyes on him––and it had resulted in one of the most mind-blowing, soul-shaking encounters of her life. To say that she had gotten it out of her system would be an understatement, because in truth, with Kyree, she had felt more alive than she had in years. And it had all been because of her fall on Razorback this morning.
As her friends peppered her with more questions, Zuri couldn’t help but wonder what Kyree was doing right now, or how he felt about what they’d done.
She hadn’t dared risk a backward glance at him as she walked out of his suite, but the memories were fresh on her mind, the kiss in the doorway, him carrying her to the bedroom, peeling off her boy shorts and tossing them to the floor… Right where they still were.
Zuri dropped her head against the sofa’s back and groaned. Fantastic! Just freaking Fantastic!
Chapter Six
Breakfast and Baubles
Friday, December 20th
The LaCrosse estate featured a three-story, stone mansion perched atop Mount Reservoir. Its courtyards, gardens, and multiple lookout points offered panoramic views of downtown Granite Falls, the frozen Crystal Lake, and the snow-covered Presidential Range––Mounts Washington, Jefferson, and Adams dominating the horizon.
The scent of coffee filled the air, and a sideboard behind Kyree held an elaborate buffet: golden croissants, Belgian waffles, steel-cut oatmeal, berry compote, smoked salmon, perfectly crispy bacon, and chicken-apple sausages. Porcelain bowls of fruit topped with Chantilly cream completed the spread. It was a beautiful place to spend the winter holidays, and each time he visited, Kyree was awed, not only by its luxury, but also by the boundless affection of his cousins who lived here.
Dressed in a black t-shirt and his midnight green Philadelphia Eagles sweatpants, Kyree sat on a sprawling sectional in the den, surrounded by the entire LaCrosse family––all nine of them. He’d already had a full bowl of oatmeal with maple syrup, and now savored a French omelette, as Michelle––who sat next to him in a sky-blue cashmere pajama set––talked about the next, yet-to-be-released installment in her children’s book series, The Littlest Dreamers.
He’d read all of her books––each inspired by the children she used to mentor at the Neighborhood Youth Center in Manchester. This one––about a seven-year-old girl who builds a rocket ship out of cardboard that magically transports her to space––sounded like it would be another hit.
“That’s brilliant,” Kyree said between bites of golden, fluffy eggs. “Kids are going to love that.”
“I hope they will. My editor seems to think so…”
“What, you don’t believe her?”
She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and sank into the forest green linen couch. “Trying to capture the attention of a seven-year-old while also giving her a genuine lesson in resilience, resourcefulness, and the power of imagination? It’s harder than it sounds.”
