Bob shrugged, noticing her cheekbones, her eyelashes, a splattering of pale freckles across her nose. He went over to a dark yellow rose with red petal edges and added a couple of those. Then another bush gave up two dark red flowers, more tightly furled than the others. He looked around, finally adding three white roses. He considered the bunch in his hand. “That should do, I think.” He held the bouquet out to Laura. “What do you think?”

I think you standing there holding out a bunch of roses looks like the search results for “romantic images of handsome men,” thought Laura, but what she said was, “Beautiful, she’ll love them,” then she turned and headed back to the house. Bob watched her hair swing as she turned, and felt his stomach drop. Maggie had said there was a new tenant. She’d said Laura was nice, from New York, and recently arrived in Los Angeles. She had completely neglected to mention Laura was gorgeous. He willed himself not to stare at her back view, but as she walked across the lawn ahead of him, it was unavoidable. She was tall, strong, and absolutely, in every single way, his type. When she’d smiled at him not three minutes earlier, he’d been momentarily stunned, tiny bluebirds circling his head like in an old cartoon.

Daisy looked up at Bob, then followed Laura. Bob said, “I see you’ve made friends with Daisy.” He fell into step alongside Laura, the scent of the roses trailing them like a veil. “I warn you, she’s demanding.”

“She seems pretty low-key to me,” said Laura. “What’s she going to do, run over my foot?” She laughed. “Even if she jumped up and down it wouldn’t hurt.”

Bob paused and bent down to scratch Daisy’s head. “Don’t listen to her,” he said. He straightened up and grinned at Laura. “You’ll see.” He loped up the steps to the house ahead of her, and Laura realized she was standing there staring after him. He was even more attractive close up than he had been at a distance, and she was grateful she wasn’t looking for a relationship of any kind.

Otherwise she’d be in real trouble.

•   •   •

Despite the fact that Laura had forgotten to text Maggie about dinner, there was plenty to go around. Anna and Libby were out at a movie, so it was only the four of them. Not counting the dogs, who sat supportively nearby in case anyone needed help with their chicken, or advice on gravy ratios.

“So, you have to go to grad school to become a physical therapist?” asked Polly. “Isn’t it just massage?” She made a face in response to Laura’s expression. “I’m going to guess not, don’t shoot me.”