Laura turned to look at her, her brow furrowed as if contemplating an answer. She finally nodded.

“I’ll need to see about my mother’s dinner first, but sure.”

“She can join us too.”

“No. Fridays are one of her favorite TV nights. She’d probably be happy to have me out of the house.”

“Okay. Good.”

She went back to her stone hauling, wondering if she wanted Laura’s company simply because she didn’t want to be alone…or if she simply wanted Laura’s company.

* * *

Laura was full—stuffed, in fact—but she managed the last bite of steak anyway. It had been cooked to perfection and she refused to waste it. Instead of using the table by the outdoor kitchen, they’d brought their plates over to the pool, using one of the round patio tables instead. Cassidy had tilted the umbrella slightly to block the breeze and lit a candle. It was a very intimate dinner with only the lights from the pool and the candle flickering back and forth.

Intimate and romantic. And Laura wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. She admitted that she had a tiny—teeny-weeny, itty-bitty—crush on Cassidy. But how embarrassing would it be if Cassidy suspected as much? Well, about as embarrassing as it was when Cassidy guessed she’d been spying on her pool from the upstairs windows. She’d blushed head to toe.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve cooked steaks for quite a few people over the years, and I do think that you are the very first woman to have finished one.”

Laura smiled. “Yes, the polite thing to do would have been to leave some, as well as some of the potato,” she said as she picked up her wineglass. “It was simply too good and it would have been sinful to leave it.” She made a show of looking across the table at Cassidy’s plate. “I see the only thing that survived you was an asparagus spear.”

Cassidy stabbed it with her fork and shoved it in her mouth with a grin.

“Next to my own, of course, this was a pretty darn good steak,” Laura said. “I’m impressed.”

“What? That I can cook?”

“Cook to perfection,” Laura corrected. She leaned her elbows on the table. “The next time—if there’s a next time—I’d like you to make your green jerk chicken. That smelled wonderful.”

“I like that about you.”

“What?”

“That you like to eat.”

“Oh. You mean compared to the overly thin blondes that you bring around?”

“Yeah, them.”

“Yes, well, I do like to eat. I fear when I’m older, I’m going to plump out.”

Cassidy laughed. “But your mother is thin.”

“My mother claims she’s gained six pounds since I’ve been living here. How do you stay in shape? Run? Gym? Both?”