“I like that better. Is it okay if I stop off in the kitchen? I can bring up some water.”

“I’ve got a minifridge in the dressing room up here.”

“Of course you do. Coming up.”

* * *

The alarm clock in her head woke Darby just before dawn. She lay still, thought about the fact that she woke in Zane’s bed.

She hadn’t meant to stay, and she didn’t think he’d meant her to stay. Sex between healthy, willing individuals equaled one thing. Sleeping together added another layer of intimacy.

But shower sex had led to a craving for more Swiss Rolls, then the snack cakes had somehow led to yet more sex. And that round—call it the slow dance round—had enervated both of them.

So when he’d mumbled, “You should just stay,” she’d managed an “Okay,” before she’d dropped straight into sleep.

Now the problem. She had to get up, get dressed probably a full hour or more before he did. It had been a long time since she’d slept with someone, and she hoped she hadn’t lost her ninja skills.

While her eyes adjusted to the dark, she put the room, the furniture placement in her head. Terrace doors to the right, master bath, walk-in closet, and dressing room to the left. That put the chest of drawers at about four o’clock, the love seat and coffee table at about eight.

And the bench at the foot of the bed—where she’d dumped her gym bag. She couldn’t remember where yesterday’s clothes had ended up, but she’d find them.

She eased out of bed, inched her way toward the bench, feeling with her foot for any stray clothes. She found yesterday’s bra, T-shirt, rounded to her gym bag.

“Why are you sneaking around in the dark?”

She didn’t jump, exactly, but her breath hitched at the mumbling coming out of the dark. “Damn it. Ninja failure. I’m sorry I woke you. The point of sneaking was not to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“Obviously. Go back to sleeping light. I’m going to get dressed in the bathroom. But since you’re at least awake, you don’t happen to have an extra toothbrush, do you?”

“Second shelf, linen closet. What Emily calls a hospitality basket. It’s got spare everything. It’s still dark.”

“Actually, day’s just breaking. Shh. Sleep.”

She closed herself in the bathroom, opted for another quick spin in the shower. Following routine, she slathered herself with sunscreen from her gym bag. Once dressed, she found the toothbrush just where he’d said.

Now she needed to find yesterday’s pants, which included her belt, her phone, her multi-tool, and loose change.

She’d intended to sneak out, but she opened the door to light, and to Zane standing in his boxers at the open terrace doors.

“It is a break between night and day,” he said. “I never really thought about it before.”

“I love how the birds wake at first light, get so excited.” She crossed over, kissed him on the back of the shoulder. “But I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“There was a woman in my shower, so I started thinking about the wet, naked woman. Who could sleep?”

“Since you can’t, do you trust me to make coffee?”

He turned, studied her. “You’ll make coffee?”

“I’ll make coffee, especially if you have any kind of cereal. Not that a Little Debbie isn’t perfectly acceptable breakfast food, but I try to save that for weekends.”

“I have Cheerios.”

“Excellent. Any fruit?”

“I think I have bananas.”

“Then I’ll even fix breakfast.” She gave him another light kiss, started out, scooping up the rest of her clothes on the way.

By the time he came downstairs, she’d opened his great room doors to the morning. She’d set his outdoor table again, unearthing place mats he never used, actual napkins, even a small vase now filled with what he assumed were colorful weeds. She’d put out bowls, a sugar bowl and creamer, a pitcher of juice, glasses.

If you took away the box of Cheerios, the table looked like the setup for a casual yet sophisticated breakfast alfresco. He noted her boots now stood by the open back door, and she walked in barefoot.

“Hey. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be so I held off on the coffee. I also needed a couple minutes to figure out your fancy machine.”

She walked to the fancy machine as she spoke, placed one of his oversize mugs. “Go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring it out.”

Still blurry, he did as he was told while the machine whirred and finally that life-giving scent hit the air.

She brought out mugs—one no more than two-thirds full. When she set the other in front of him, he lifted it, inhaled the first dose straight into his brain.

“You drink it black. I’m always amazed at people who drink black coffee. I don’t actually like coffee.”

As he watched, she flooded her mug with milk, showered it with one, two, dear God, three spoonfuls of sugar.

“That is no longer coffee.”

“Exactly. But it still has that punch I go for in the morning.”

Shaking his head, Zane dumped cereal in her bowl, then in his own. She doctored hers with milk, rapidly sliced half a banana over it. Held out the rest.

“You want?”

“I guess.”

Before he could take it from her, she sliced banana over his cereal.

“No sugar?” he asked as she spooned up a bite.

“I like Cheerios. And I see you’ve combined the Honey Nut with the Very Berry.”

“Yes, I have.”

“I find that brilliant, and see myself emulating your style in my own home.”

They ate in easy silence until he gestured toward the vase with his spoon. “Aren’t those weeds?”

“Wildflowers,” she corrected. “Native wildflowers. Yours, as your pretty clump of woods is alive with them. Trillium, Johnny-jump-ups, cranesbill. I can see I need to get you a book so you can identify your own treasure trove.”

He drank more coffee. “You look good in the morning. And you smell like the beach.”

“Thanks. That’s sunscreen, and it won’t last. The beachy scent, I mean. I slap it on every few hours, but the beach loses to sweat, dirt, and whatever. Which I need to get started on.”

“The crew’s not here.”

“They will be.” She rose, started stacking dishes.

“I’ll take care of that. You cooked.”

“I did set the table, and what I don’t know about cooking I make up for in presentation. I’ll take these in because I’m going to steal a Coke for later.”

He carried the rest in behind her, got a Coke out of the fridge, handed it to her. “Are we still on for movies and popcorn?”

Her smile hit her eyes first. “Sure. Eight-thirty, right?”

“Eight-thirty.” He cupped her hips, drew her in, drew her up. Kissed her in a way he intended to have linger in her system until he saw her again.

“Well.” Her fingers trailed through his hair. “If I came over at eight, you could give me that full house tour.”

“Come at eight.” And kissed her again.

* * *

As the days rolled on, the wall neared completion. Darby juggled jobs, pleased the work she’d done attracted interest. She spent more nights than she thought either of them intended in Zane’s bed.

She didn’t look toward the future there. For now, the future was her work, her place in Lakeview, the life she built for herself.

Still, the day she looked at the completed terraced wall, the lower level full of good, rich dirt prime for planting, she thought of Zane.

Whatever happened, he’d have this, and he’d remember.

“It’s freaking beautiful.” Gabe stood beside her, beaming in a way she understood. “I’ve never had a part in building anything like this. And it’s freaking beautiful.”

She hiked an elbow on his shoulder. He had a few inches on her five-seven. “It’s going to be even better once we plant it.”

Hallie wrapped an arm around Gabe’s other shoulder, gave him a quick squeeze. “Let’s get it done.”

“Roy, why don’t you go back and work with Ralph on the back wall. I’ll get Hallie and Gabe started.”

He took off his company cap, waved it in front of his face, settled it on his straggly hair again. “Miss Darby, you work me to death.”

“You look lively enough to me. Besides, we need to finish what we can this afternoon. It’s going to rain tomorrow.”

Roy frowned up at the sky, tipped back his cap. “Don’t look like rain’s coming.”

“Trust me. Or the National Weather Service. We’re getting boomers tonight, and a soaker tomorrow. You can sleep late.”

He brightened right up. “Maybe sleep all damn day.”

She helped wheel over the plants, jumped down so Hallie could pass them to her, to Gabe. It took all three of them to muscle down the crepe myrtle she wanted for the far end.

When she’d placed them, she boosted herself back up, studied the effect. “Gabe, switch the mountain laurel, that one, with that azalea. Yeah, yeah, better balance. It’s going to look great. Man your shovels, team. I’m going to check on Roy and Ralph.”

She could see the good, solid bones of the wall as Roy and Ralph worked, communicating with grunts while Roy’s iPod played country rock.