Jaycie secured a tie about her short, terrycloth robe, luxuriating in its fleece lining. She’d found it laid out on her bed when she’d arrived at Grammie’s last night. Putting it on was like receiving a big warm hug from the woman herself.

As she padded down the hall to the bathroom, the scent of bacon drifted up the stairs and she resigned herself to a cholesterol high for the duration of her visit. It was the only way Grammie knew how to cook and if Jaycie was completely honest, she loved succumbing to its seductive call.

Her red, corkscrew curls bobbed on her head like clockworks gone amuck. She’d fought them her entire life and hated their thickness when she let her hair grow long. So last year she’d cut them into a short mop of fat, bouncy, ring curls going every which way.

Rounding the corner, she stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, then took her time appreciating the view. She’d recognize that package anywhere—with or without the jeans currently encasing it ever so lovingly.

Shane Augustus Bradford lay on his back with his head beneath the sink, legs and torso extending out onto the white tiled floor. The temptation to tickle those vulnerable ribs was strong, but since he was clearly doing some fix-it job for Grammie, she leaned a shoulder against the doorframe to wait.

The hem of his faded blue t-shirt lifted with his movements, giving her a peek of tanned skin which led to a six-pack she’d had the pleasure of getting to know very well. Her hook-ups with him over the past few years had become an unexpected perk of visiting Grammie.

She wondered if he was currently in a relationship. She hoped not. She’d be here an entire week this time helping Grammie run one of her craft retreats.

After Grandpa died, he’d left Grammie a significant nest egg that none of them had even known he’d had. With it, Grammie had purchased an old, two-story historic hotel on the town square, renovated it, and moved her scrapbooking store into the downstairs portion.

With the expanded floorspace, she’d set up tables for workshops and crafters, updated the old kitchen, then used the eight hotel rooms upstairs for out of towners who wanted to have a craft retreat with their girlfriends. The rest of the upper floor was her private living quarters which included a master, a guest room, a bathroom, and a large sitting area.

Though Grammie had employees and a housekeeper, Jaycie still liked to lend a hand when she could.

Shane shimmied out from beneath the sink, his brown hair mussed, his scruff needing a trim. He saw her bare legs first, then allowed his gorgeous blue eyes to travel the rest of the way up until he met her welcoming gaze.

She gave him a wink. “Hey there, cowboy. How you doin’?”

“Jaycie Grant.” A huge grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. “If I had a tail, it’d be waggin’.”