Page 82 of Sharing Shane

“Go get changed,” he told her, laughing. “I’ll go get the equipment and meet you back here.”

“Take your time,” she told him, heading for the sliding door. “I suddenly feel the need for a shower.”

“Before snorkeling?” he asked.

“It’s not to get clean,” she informed him tartly and closed the sliding door on his delighted laughter.

Thirteen

On Monday morning she woke back in the real world, in her own bed, with the sheets cold and empty beside her.

“Nuts,” she muttered and shoved her way clear of the blankets.

The floor was freezing on her bare feet, even though the temperature was supposed to be in the high sixties for the day. Spring in Michigan was nothing like spring in Bermuda, and her toes could tell the difference.

She stopped at her dresser for a pair of thick socks, then made her way to the bathroom. After taking care of business and covering her feet, she headed for the kitchen.

She had thankfully had the presence of mind to set the coffee to brew automatically the night before, so it was already hissing and spitting out life-giving caffeine. She pulled a mug from the dishwasher she hadn’t bothered to empty before she’d gone on vacation and leaned against the counter, yawning, while she waited for the pot to fill.

The knock on her door made her frown, and she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Who would be at her apartment at six-forty-five in the morning?

She glanced down at herself. In addition to the socks, she wore the plain black cotton T-shirt she’d slept in—one of Shane’s. It had somehow wound up in her luggage by mistake, and she’d found it last night when she’d unpacked. She’d started to throw it into the basket with the rest of the laundry, then had given in to impulse and pulled it over her head instead.

It fell nearly to her knees, covering all the vital bits, so she walked to the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Delia called back. “Open the door.”

Veronica flipped open the locks. “Why didn’t you just use your key?”

“Because my hands are full,” Delia replied and held out a to-go cup of coffee. “Here. I thought you might need this.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Veronica said reverently, forgetting all about the pot brewing in the kitchen.

“I know. I also brought muffins.” Delia walked to the sofa, rattling the paper bag in her hand.

“Coffee and muffins, before seven a.m.?” Veronica wrapped both hands around her cup and perched on the sofa. “And you got dressed to bring them to me?”

Delia snorted, her messy knot of blonde hair bobbing as she dug into the bag. “Please. These are my pajamas.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed on Delia’s clothes, which, yes, seemed to be pajama pants with... “Is that Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t know they made them for grownups.”

“They don’t. I found the fabric and had them made.”

“Of course, you did.” Veronica sipped her coffee. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Delia dug into the bag and came up with a muffin, fat with blueberries and glistening with sugar. “I’m bribing you.”

Veronica eyed the muffin with interest, suddenly very aware that she hadn’t eaten since four o’clock the previous afternoon. “Why are you bribing me?”

“Because I want to hear all about your vacation.”

Veronica reached for the muffin. “You don’t have to bribe me for that.”

Delia jerked it out of reach. “Ah, but I want the good stuff. The dirty, nitty gritty. No dirt, no muffin.”

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