Laurel tossed some pretty pastel mints on the cookie tray. "I know it's a crazy idea, but maybe once you get your car back, you can have the garage service the van."
Emma nibbled at the cookie. "The car guy tossed that idea in the hat. I need consolation. How about dinner and movie night?"
"Don't you have a date?"
"I canceled. I'm not in the mood."
Laurel blew hair out of her eyes, the better to stare in shock. "You're not in the mood for a date?"
"I have to get an early start tomorrow. Six hand-tied bouquets, and the bride's makes seven. That's a good six, seven hours of work. I have Tink coming in for half a day, so it cuts it back, but there's all the rest to put together for the Friday night event. And I spent most of the morning processing the flowers."
"That's never stopped you before. Are you sure you're feeling all right? You've been just a shade off."
"No, I'm fine. I'm good. I'm just not . . . in the mood for men."
"That couldn't include me." Delaney Brown walked in, lifted Emma off her feet to give her a resounding kiss. "Mmm. Sugar cookie."
Emma laughed. "Get your own."
He plucked one from the tray, grinned at Laurel. "Consider it part of my fee."
Going from experience, Laurel got out a Ziploc bag and began to fill it with cookies. "Are you in on the meeting?"
"No. I just had some legal business to go over with Parks."
Since it was there and so was he, Del went to the coffeepot.
He and Parker shared the dark brown hair, the dark blue eyes. What Laurel would have called their refined features were just a little more roughly carved on him. In the smoke gray pin-striped suit, Italian shoes, and Hermès tie, he looked every bit the successful Connecticut lawyer. The scion of the Connecticut Browns.
With the food prep complete, Laurel untied her baker's apron and hung it on a peg.
Del leaned on the counter. "I hear you kicked some ass with the Folk wedding last weekend."
"Do you know them?" Emma asked.
"Her parents are clients. I haven't had the pleasure-though from what Jack says that may be overstating-of meeting the new Mrs. Harrigan."
"You will when they file for divorce," Laurel said.
"Always the optimist."
"She's a nightmare. She sent Parker a critique list this morning. E-mailed from Paris. From her honeymoon."
"You're kidding!" Stunned, Emma gaped at Laurel. "It was perfect. Everything was perfect."
"The champagne could've been colder, the wait service faster, the sky bluer, and the grass greener."
"Well, she's just a bitch. After I gave her ten more roses. Not one, but ten." Emma shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Everyone who was there, and who was an actual human, knows it was perfect. She can't spoil it."
"That's my girl." Del toasted her with his coffee.
"Anyway, speaking of Jack, have you seen him? I mean, will you be seeing him?"
"Tomorrow, actually. We're heading into the city to catch the Yankees."
"Maybe you could take him his jacket. He left his jacket. Or I forgot to give it back. Anyway, I have his jacket, and he probably wants it. I can go get it. It's in my office. I can just go get it."
"I'll go by and get it on my way out."
"Good. That'd be great. Since you're seeing him anyway."
"No problem. I'd better get going." He picked up the bag, shook it lightly at Laurel. "Thanks for the cookies."
"A baker's dozen, including the one you ate, will be deducted from your fee."
He shot Laurel a grin, and sauntered out.
Laurel waited a few beats then pointed at Emma. "Jack."
"What?"
"Jack."
"No," Emma said slowly, laying her hand between her breasts. "Emma. Em-ma."
"Don't be funny, I can see right through you. You said 'any way' three times in under a minute."
"No, I didn't." Maybe she had. "And so what?"
"So, what's going on with you and Jack?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Don't be ridiculous." She felt the lie burning her tongue. "You can't say anything to anyone."
"If I can't say anything, it's not nothing."
"It is nothing. It's probably nothing. I'm overreacting. Damn it." Emma popped the half a cookie she had left in her mouth all at once.
"You're eating like a normal person. Something is wrong in the Emma-verse. Spill."
"Swear first. You won't say anything to Parker or Mac."