“Okay, again, I’ve seen your women in their bikinis. No way I’m going to be seen in a swimsuit next to them. That would just be wrong.”

“I can’t picture you in a bikini.”

Laura grinned. “Why are you picturing me in a swimsuit?”

“I mean…I just meant…you know…I’d bet you were a one-piece kind of gal.”

“When I wear a swimsuit, yes.” That statement was met with silence and she smiled. “What? Skinny-dipping is not allowed in your pool?”

Cassidy cleared her throat. “Yes, it is certainly allowed. I enjoy it myself.”

“I know. So did the model,” she said without thinking. Damn!

But Cassidy laughed. “So which windows can you see the pool out of?”

Damn, damn, damn! “Mostly my writing room,” she confessed. “Not that I spy on you or anything.”

“So the room by the maple tree…that’s your bedroom?”

“Yes. My mother’s rooms are downstairs.”

“Good to know.”

Laura frowned. “Why good to know?”

“Just…good to know.” Laura heard voices and the sound of a door opening. “Listen, I need to go,” Cassidy said. “But think about the party.”

“No.”

Cassidy sighed. “Okay. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

She continued to lean against the tree. Should she reconsider the party? She shook her head. No. As she’d said, she’d seen the women who Cassidy had over. She couldn’t imagine having anything in common with any of them.

* * *

Cassidy opened the blinds to the sliding glass door, then opened the door as well. It was a warm, humid evening, but she wanted to be outside. For some reason, her apartment was stifling her, the walls seeming to close in around her. So she took her drink out to the balcony and sat down in one of the two chairs, trying to relax. Her view was not great—more apartments across from her—but at least there were large trees to make it seem as if she had some privacy.

She could imagine being at her house, sitting out by the pool. It would be cooler there, for sure. Maybe she’d go up Thursday instead of Friday. Even though she was having the party catered—fajitas—she still had some things to get. Namely, beer and the makings for margaritas.

Of course, if she went up Thursday, she might spoil Laura’s work plans. She smiled, thinking of the other woman. So she’d trespassed today, huh? Looking for a leaning tree, something from her childhood? She did regret that she’d never had the opportunity to explore out there like Laura apparently had. Even through the whole process of building the house—and saving most of the woods—she hadn’t taken the time to actually go out into the woods, to explore, to hike around. She’d been too busy.