Daisy petals quivered as she slid the bloom amongst the others, her hands shaking. Last night she’d prowled her apartment until midnight, watched an old movie that made her cry, then finally fell asleep on the sofa. Her normally hazy, romantic dreams of Gray had been replaced with sharp, vivid images of him in the flesh. He crossed the threshold, eyeing Yarg as he entered. His blue jeans showed off narrow hips and long legs. His baby blue T-shirt didn’t fit like a second skin, but didn’t mask his muscular torso, either. She pursed her lips, trapping an admiring sigh. “Good day, Miss Shaw,” he said as he reached the counter. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ye!” Mollie’s gaze flickered to the screeching leprechaun. “And from Yarg and myself, Mr. McGuire.” “Is there a volume control on that thing?” “Just an on-off switch. I guess I’ve gotten used to it.” She wondered whether Gray’s real-life kissing technique would do justice to her dreams. Could anyone compete with a dream?
