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Because she hadn’t just had sex. She’d had lots and lots of great sex and felt, simultaneously, as if she could sleep for the next three days and scale a mountain.
Cowardly and rude, she told herself, because she heard their voices from the kitchen. She strolled back, casually, she thought, to find them sitting at the counter over tea and cake.
Audrey smiled at her, blinked, then ratcheted up the smile.
“Just in time for some of Gram’s famous pound cake. Did you have dinner?”
“Yes. Sorry I was gone so long.”
“You should have fun on your day off. Sit, have some tea. We’re thinking of adding the pound cake to the café menu. Have a slice and see what you think. We’re toying with serving it with raspberries and cream.”
Since they’d brewed a pot of tea, Morgan got out a cup.
“So, you and Miles went out to dinner?”
She felt her back itch as Olivia asked it.
“No, he grilled a couple of steaks. I made those potatoes I know how to make.”
“Isn’t that nice?”
The itch turned into a burn as she grabbed a dessert plate.
“And yes, we had sex. Lots of sex. And I’m going back for more tomorrow.”
Silence rang for a beat, then a second while she lifted the dome off the cake plate.
“Well.” Olivia sipped at her tea. “Those must’ve been some cookies.”
At Audrey’s burst of laughter, Morgan could only stare.
“Oh, sit down.” Audrey patted a stool. “Gram and I remember what it was like. We’re not going to pry. We really want to pry.”
“It’s killing me,” Olivia admitted.
“But we won’t. I’ll say I missed your first time. I did miss your first time, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” Morgan got a fork, sat. “College. It wasn’t wonderful.”
“I missed yours,” Olivia said to Audrey. “But I knew when you got home from spring break.”
“That uniform. I was a goner.”
“You’re not talking about Dad? Dad was your first?”
“First and only.”
“The only’s your own fault. I bet that sommelier would put the look in your eye that Morgan’s got in hers.”
“Mom. Wasn’t Pa your first?”
“Please.” Snickering, Olivia ate a forkful of cake. “Remember theera. Free love, baby.” She tossed up a peace sign. “No, he wasn’t my first. But he was my best.”
She looked over at Morgan. “I know Miles is a good man. A bit of a workaholic, but that would suit you, as you’re the same. He wouldn’t have pressured you into sex, and you don’t wear the look of a woman who felt pressured. All that matters.”
“I guess I sort of started it. He has turrets.”
“Is that a sexual euphemism? Do I have to look it up in the Urban Dictionary?”
