“One word—margaritas.”
“Oh my God,” she moaned, and stood up. “I have to go.” He watched her stumble to the door, grab her bag, and go out.
He carried on to the kitchen, where the smell of sugar and cinnamon was enough to drive a man to his knees. He was hoping he’d find Amy there. He’d missed her last night, even though they’d both been with the others. But with so many people around, it had been hard to have a word. Plus, she’d spent a good forty-five minutes on the phone with her father. He knew this, because her mother kept instructing her to tell him she was busy.
He hoped that today, when the ladies were away, he and Amy could steal some time. He wanted to hear her interpretation of all that had happened since they’d tossed around in her bed. He’d wanted to sit before the fire with the Christmas tree lights glittering at them and hear about her day. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her. He wanted a lot of things that didn’t make sense after a few short days. Probably the season, he figured. Nostalgia.
Right. He could tell himself that, but he knew it was something more. How much more, he wasn’t sure. But his interest had sailed right past the prurient and into the burning sun of captivation.
Alas, it was not Amy in the kitchen. It was June. “Good morning, H!” she said cheerfully.
The H thing had started last night. He wasn’t quite sure what it was about him that had made them all think he required only an initial. “Good morning, J,” he said. June was wearing a one-piece bathing suit and a thick robe over it. On the bar was a woven bag; a red-brimmed hat peeked out the top. He looked at the bag, and at her. “You know it’s only thirty-eight degrees right now.”
“A fellow weather connoisseur,” she said. “Nothing I like better first thing in the morning than a temperature check. But what’s your point?”
“You look like you are headed for the beach.”
“Well, not the beach, but the pool. It’s been heating all night. It will feel like a hot tub.”
He wondered what the heating bill for that would run. “What smells so good?”
“My homemade cinnamon rolls.”
“Good morning!” Carol sailed in next. She was dressed similarly to June. “Smells wonderful, June. I was hoping we’d get your cinnamon rolls.”
Harrison realized that it was ten o’clock, and the ladies were puttering around the kitchen and planning to get in the pool. What happened to their trip to Denison to shop? They’d all talked about what to wear last night. “I, uh…thought you were going shopping today?” he said, trying to make it sound casual instead of desperate as dread began to creep in. He already knew the answer—he would not have any alone time with Amy today.
“Oh, we gave up on that idea,” Carol said with a flick of her wrist, confirming his fear. “Weather is moving in, and we didn’t want to miss the one day we might have for the pool.”
“He’s worried we’ll interrupt his physical therapy,” June said, eying him. “But you shouldn’t, H. Hillary said it would be fine.”
Hillary? She was deciding who was here now?
They were joined by Melissa and Barb, also dressed for the pool. Melissa looked around the room as if they were missing one. “Where are the mimosas?”
These women coulddrink.
“I haven’t made them,” June said. “I’m a little busy here,” she said, gesturing to the things she’d used to make the cinnamon rolls.
Melissa sighed. “Move,” she said to Harrison, and shimmied around him, into the kitchen, and yanked open the door of the fridge.
“Where is my daughter?” Barb asked.
“In her studio,” June said.
“And Hillary?”
“Last I saw her, passed out on the couch,” June said. “What am I, the night watchman?”
“I, ah…I think she went back to her rental,” Harrison offered.
“But I thought she was with us today,” Barb said, sounding a little whiny.
“She’ll be back,” Melissa said. “She texted just before I came downstairs.”
They’d already exchanged phone numbers? Was Hillary moving in, too?
“I had a call from Bob this morning,” Barb announced as Duchess wandered in, her nose to the ground, bumping into Barb’s foot before inching around and heading for Harrison.
