But she’d slipped away today at noon, feeling the urge to get out to the country. She was actually looking forward to a weekend alone. Well, not really alone. Laura would be around. Their dinner plans for jerk chicken were Saturday, but she thought she could talk her into dinner tonight as well. She wouldn’t mind having another steak on the grill. Of course, there was her mother to consider. Laura may not want to leave her two nights in a row.

That thought made her wonder if Laura had managed to get her mother into the pool for some exercise. She’d almost called her a couple of times during the week, but, really, she didn’t have a reason to. Then again, they were friends. Did she need a reason?

The truth was, Laura crossed her mind far too often as it was. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she had a little crush on her. Then she shook her head. Laura was so not her type. Laura had a little too much tomboy in her for that. No…Claudia, Larson…women like that were her type. Women who dressed up, wore makeup. Women who were a little on the skinny side. Not that Laura was fat. She had a very nice body…curvy, athletic. But dressed up? Wearing makeup? No. She’d seen Laura in cutoff jeans, a swimsuit, and khaki shorts. She smiled. And in a sleep shirt with no bra. But man, those cutoff jeans sure fit her good. She shook her head again.

No, Laura wasn’t the type of woman she’d date. Actually, Laura really wasn’t the type she usually made friends with either. Wonder why that was? Why did she hang with the group she did?

* * *

Cassidy’s face broke out into a smile when she found Laura in her front yard, a garden hose in her hand as she watered flowers. Did she even own a garden hose? She buzzed her window down, still smiling as she eyed Laura in her cutoff jeans.

“Sorry,” Laura said. “But if you want me out of here when you get home, you need to let me know that you’re coming early.”

“No problem.” She arched an eyebrow. “Where did you find a garden hose? I didn’t even know I had one.”

“You don’t.” She grinned. “Well, now you do.”

“I see. So are you about done?”

“Yes. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

“No, no. I meant, if you’re about done, come up for a beer,” she offered.

“You sure?”

“Of course. I’ve had a stressful week. I’m ready to relax and get in the pool.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It is.”

“Good. Because I happen to have the weekend to myself.”

“What a coincidence. So do I.”