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“That wasn’t my exact thought.”
“Sangria’s neither fussy nor girlie, but a perfect summer adult beverage. And in a few hours, you’ll learn my sangria’s exceptional.”
He stroked a hand along her spine before going back for coffee. “Not fussy says the woman who’s decimated a decent-size orchard and has multiple bottles on the counter.”
“One of the many secrets of my sangria is fresh juice.”
When the doorbell rang, Morgan put down the knife.
“I’ll get it,” Miles told her.
“I’m fully dressed; you’re fully not.”
He held up a hand to stop her before picking up the remote and changing the channel to security.
“It’s my mother. Why the hell is she knocking?”
He switched the channel back and started out of the kitchen as Morgan looked down at herself. And said, “Shit.”
When he opened the door, Drea lifted her eyebrows. “Sleeping in?”
“Why didn’t you just come in?”
“In case you were sleeping in or otherwise occupied.” She handed him a basket of peaches. “The Millers are up from Georgia.”
“How many bushels this time?”
“Two. So I’m divvying up. I know you’re seeing Liam and Nell later. You can share.”
“Maybe. Jesus, come in, come back. We’re in the kitchen.”
“I don’t want to get in your way.”
“In the kitchen,” he repeated, and started back. “Morgan’s making enough sangria for Barcelona. We have peaches,” he said as he set the basket on the counter. “You can’t possibly want to stuff them in there, too.”
“I went red wine and citrus, but if I’d known.” Morgan plucked one out, lifted it to her face, and drew in the scent. “They’re gorgeous. Thanks, Drea.”
“Thank the Millers. Second cousins on my side. They grow peaches in Georgia. And your sangria’s what’s gorgeous.”
“I’d offer you some, but it hasn’t had time to blend, and wouldn’t be right. How about an iced cappuccino?”
“I—that sounds like a lot of trouble.”
“It’s really not.”
While Morgan carried the pitcher to the refrigerator, Howl raced in from the mudroom, wagged his way to Drea for a greeting.
“There he is.” Drea bent down to pet. If she wondered what it meant how easily Morgan worked in her son’s kitchen while he stood in ratty gym shorts drinking coffee, she tucked it away.
“How was the hike?”
“It was great.” Morgan brewed the espresso, got out a bowl. “I didn’t realize how much I missed hiking until I did it again.”
“And the ropes course?”
“You mean the ambush?” Tossing her hair back, she whisked half-and-half, sweetened condensed milk, and a little vanilla with the coffee. “More fun than I expected. Have you ever done it?”
“Family pride demands, and once was enough. Are those coffee ice cubes?”
