A rough tongue licked her foot and she jumped. She opened her eyes to find Biscuit wagging his tail.

“Oh my god! You completely scared me. How’d you get in here?” She looked over at the fence and saw a hole where two slats of the fence had broken off. Biscuit must have squeezed through.

“Oh, I see. Very innovative … I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself. Did you want company?” She patted the lounge chair, and he jumped up and settled in on her legs. When he rolled over, exposing his belly, she gave him a belly rub until Biscuit rested his head on her legs. She closed her eyes. Even better.

Twenty minutes later, she heard Jake’s voice in his yard. “Biscuit! Here boy!”

She opened her eyes. Jake was peering over the fence.

“Biscuit! And Sleeping Beauty! Or is it Snow White?” Biscuit thumped his tail but didn’t move.

“I don’t think either had a dog.”

“Should have—always a good defense against witches.”

“And murderous huntsmen,” she said. “Should I go check my fairytale coloring book?”

“Glad to see it’s of use already.”

“I’m feeling much more relaxed.”

“I installed one of those dog doors so he could go out whenever he wanted. I didn’t realize he could get through the fence.”

“Biscuit is always welcome. The hole has never bothered me, so I’ve never fixed it. I bought this apartment from a couple, and they said they used it to visit your predecessor.”

Jake bent down and squeezed through the gap in the fence, smiling at her. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” He surveyed her garden. “But I can fix it if you want. I’m positive there’s something in Emily Post about good fences make good neighbors.”

She glanced at the six-foot-two hot guy standing in her yard. She wasn’t an idiot. Even if Emily Post recommended a fence, she wasn’t going to follow it. “Might as well leave it for now.” She added, “Robert Frost wrote a poem about fences—he’s often quoted for the line ‘good fences make good neighbors,’ but in the poem, he’s actually questioning that.”

He looked impressed. “Well, there you go. I’ll have to read that poem.” He pulled the wooden chair next to her lounge chair and sat down. “Biscuit doesn’t bother you? He’s made himself comfortable.”

“He’s lovely. I wish I could have a pet, but I work too many hours. I thought about getting a cat, but then …” She stopped right before she said she’d be a single woman with a cat looking desperate. Phew. She’d caught herself just in time.

“Still too much work?”

“Cats aren’t, but I travel.”

“Well, I’d be happy to come feed it. Or my sister could when I’m traveling.”