Before going inside, she turned the grill down to its lowest setting. She didn’t want to overcook the chicken. The rice was already done—spicy rice with peas—and a couple ears of corn on the cob were grilling next to the chicken.

She took a quick shower before slipping into dry clothes and choosing sandals instead of flip-flops. The table at the edge of the outdoor kitchen was already set for dinner. Instead of lighting the candle, she moved it back into the cabinet. No sense in having Ashly think she was trying to seduce her. Quite the opposite.

The wine she’d chosen for their meal was a sweeter zinfandel to offset the spiciness of the jerk sauce. The smell permeating from the grill told her that Ashly was not going to enjoy the chicken unless she scraped off all of the sauce…which was blasphemy, of course. The jerk sauce was what it was—green and spicy. And delicious.

“Everything is just about ready. Do you want to change before eating?”

Ashly walked up the steps of the pool and grabbed one of the large towels to wrap around herself. She stumbled slightly and Cassidy rushed over to help.

“That margarita just hit me, I think,” Ashly said with a laugh.

“Yeah, a pitcher will do that,” she murmured. “So? Change first or eat?”

“I’m starving. If you don’t mind me being in a bikini, we can eat first.” She spotted the wine on the table. “I think I better go with water, though.”

“Have a seat,” she said as she guided Ashly into a chair. “I’ll serve you.”

As expected, Ashly took one bite of the chicken—“Oh my God…my mouth’s on fire!”—and gulped down most of her water. She then removed as much sauce as she could before taking a second bite.

Cassidy sipped from her wine before sampling the corn. Grilled to perfection, it exploded in her mouth with juicy flavor. The chicken was moist and tender—and spicy. The corn was perfect. The rice fluffy. The wine sweet. She picked up her glass again, watching as Ashly daintily held the corn with her thumb and index fingers, all the others were pointed appropriately skyward.

She sighed. How could she possibly be sitting here, out by the pool, having dinner with a beautiful young woman—in a bikini, no less—and feel as lonely as she was? She suspected, had she been alone, she would feel less so.

She heard quiet laughter come from across the fence and she smiled, recognizing Laura’s voice. So they cooked steaks and ate outside too. She looked at Ashly, who—instead of picking up the drumstick—was trying to cut the meat from the bone. Ashly looked up and smiled.

“It’s very good.”

“Thanks.” She picked up her own chicken with her hands. “Much easier to eat this way.”