Page 87 of Sharing Shane

“I didn’t know you’d taken it.”

“I wanted something to remind me of my awesome vacation.”

“My big feet fit that bill, huh?”

She had to smile at the amusement in his voice. “Well, I was aiming for the sunset. Your big feet got in the way.”

He chuckled and had goosebumps breaking out over her skin. “How was your first week back?”

“Hectic,” she said baldly. “Today’s the first chance I’ve had to breathe all week. You?”

“Same. Finished up a couple of commissions, got a couple more.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is. I like paying my bills.” There was a brief pause, then, “What are you doing right now?”

“My laundry.”

“You hungry?”

“A little. Why?”

“Because I’m picking up a calzone at Mama Luke’s, and I’m willing to share.”

“What’s Mama Luke’s?”

“You’ve never had a Mama Luke’s calzone?”

“No,” she said, smiling at his exaggerated shock. “Are they good?”

“Good isn’t a strong enough word. What’s your address?”

She rattled it off, chewing on her bottom lip. “Are you coming over?”

“If you want to share my calzone.”

“Sure.” She managed to say it almost casually, like she wasn’t currently dancing a gleeful jig in the laundry room. “There’s no visitor parking, but there should be plenty of room on the street.”

“Sounds good. See you in about half an hour.”

“Okay,” she said, then hung up and stood there grinning like an idiot until she realized that she was wearing her oldest pair of yoga pants—the ones with the hole in the crotch—and a tank top with a spaghetti sauce stain.

Dashing back to her apartment, she switched out the yoga pants for a pair of jeans and the tank for a soft sweater in pale green that brought out the color of her eyes. Her hair got a quick taming with a brush, her mouth a quick swipe of her favorite lip balm. She debated whether or not to do something more with her face, then decided to just let it be.

She left the bathroom and did a quick scan of the apartment. The kitchen was fairly clean, mainly because she’d been too busy to mess it up, and the living room was at least presentable. She snatched up a pair of pink panties that must have fallen out of the laundry basket and carried them to the bedroom to toss them into the hamper. She was running back when she heard the knock on her front door.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and answered it.

God, he looked good. He was wearing the cargo pants and T-shirt she’d come to think of as his uniform, both in black, and black lace-up boots covered his feet. His hair was pulled back in its usual low tail, his beard sleek and a little shorter than she remembered. He had one hand tucked into his front pocket, and the other held an enormous foil-wrapped package, and when he smiled, his beard twitched.

“Hi.”

She smiled back. “Hi. You trimmed your beard.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He lifted a hand to rub along his jaw. “It was getting annoying.”

“Beards get annoying?”

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