She let herself inside without looking back. The air conditioning wrapped around her, cool and abrupt after the warm night. She locked the door, set her keys on the small table by the stairs, and climbed to the bedroom.
In the bedroom she changed into a tank top and shorts to sleep in, brushed her teeth, and turned down the white linens. She read for a few hours, until she was too tired to focus on the words.
Before she switched off the light she crossed to the rear window out of habit and glanced down into the neighboringcourtyard. The pool lights were on, turning the water a calm turquoise, but the space was empty. The lounge chairs sat undisturbed. She looked for only a moment, then drew the curtain across.
It had been a surprisingly good evening. Casey was easy to talk to in a way most people weren’t. The conversation had flowed without effort, and for the first time in months Stephanie had felt herself relax. It was nice to have a neighbor who felt like company instead of obligation.
She turned off the lamp and slid beneath the covers. The distant sound of the ocean filtered through the closed window. Tomorrow she would probably see Casey again, maybe accept that offer to use the pool.
Sleep came easily with the memory of an unexpectedly pleasant evening drifting through her mind.
6
The heat was already winning. Casey stood barefoot on the cool tile of her kitchen, knife moving through tomatoes that released warm bursts of juice with every cut. The sharp green smell of basil rose from the windowsill, mixing with red onion and the constant faint salt that clung to everything in this town. Sweat gathered at the small of her back and glued the thin cotton tank to her skin. Overhead, the ceiling fan clicked and wobbled, pushing the same thick air around in useless circles.
She should have been deciding whether she needed more olive oil. Instead her mind kept circling back to Stephanie. The memory of their dinner at Captain Tony’s kept rising up uninvited. How easily their conversation had flowed, like they’d known each other for years. It had felt far too easy. That was the dangerous part.
Casey had gone home afterward and reminded herself of the new rule. No more unavailable women. Stephanie carried that quality in every quiet reference to Charleston, every mention of the divorce, in the fact that she was only going to be here for six weeks.
The knife paused. Casey wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist. She should offer the pool again. Last night the invitation might have sounded like the sort of thing neighbors say without meaning it. Stephanie needed to know it was real. The pool sat right there, cool and shaded by the strangler fig. There was no reason for her not to use it.
She could picture her now, probably trying to read on the porch, hair sticking to her neck in the humidity. The image pulled a small smile from Casey, then something sharper low in her stomach that she shut down immediately.
Straight. Stephanie was straight. Newly single after twenty years with a man. Casey had heard enough versions of that story to know that she didn’t need to develop a crush on this woman.
Movement caught her attention through the side window. Stephanie was walking up the street toward the rental, a cloth tote bag swinging from her shoulder. Oranges, bread, something leafy poking from the top. The woman moved with that careful posture, shoulders slightly pulled in like she was still learning how much space she was allowed to occupy here. Casey’s pulse gave an annoying little jump. Before she could talk herself out of it, she set the knife down, wiped her hands on the dish towel, and stepped onto the porch.
“Hey, neighbor.” She kept her voice light. The heat wrapped around her instantly, thick and damp. “Surviving this weather?”
Stephanie stopped at the low picket fence. Her face turned, and that familiar warmth spread through Casey’s chest again. The tote bag looked heavy. Stephanie’s expression shifted into a real smile that reached her eyes. “Barely. I think the air conditioning in the rental is losing the fight. How are you not melting?”
Casey laughed, the sound easier than the tightness in her stomach. “Years of practice. Listen, I meant what I said yesterday about the pool. In case you thought I was just beingpolite. It’s there, it’s cool, and you’re welcome anytime. Just come through the gate whenever you want.”
The offer sat between them. Casey watched the small changes in Stephanie’s posture, the way her fingers adjusted on the tote bag. She looked tired but softer than she had that first morning. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled again.
“I’d love that,” Stephanie said. Relief colored her voice in a way that made something in Casey unclench. “This heat is brutal. I was about to take a cold shower and call it a night.”
Casey leaned against the porch railing, the wood warm under her forearms. “Have you eaten? I’m throwing together a salad. Nothing fancy, but there’s plenty if you want to join me. We could eat, then cool off in the pool after. No pressure though. I know you came here to relax.”
Stephanie hesitated only a second. The tote bag shifted as she adjusted her weight. “I haven’t eaten. That sounds really good. Let me drop these inside and change. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Perfect. Gate’s open. Just come through.” Casey watched her walk the rest of the way to the next cottage, that straight back and the way her dark hair moved against her shoulders.
Inside, she finished the salad, adding chickpeas, feta, and the last of the good olives.
A soft knock came at the screen door a few minutes later. Casey’s stomach did a small flip she ignored. She crossed the living room and found Stephanie standing there with her hair pulled back in a messy bun. A few dark strands had escaped, curling against her neck from the humidity. She held a bottle of white wine, the label slightly damp from the refrigerator case. The sight landed somewhere behind Casey’s ribs.
She had noticed Stephanie was attractive yesterday evening. The quiet elegance, the subtle curves, the way her eyes heldattention. But tonight, with her hair like that and the clean line of her jaw exposed, something shifted. Casey’s gaze traced the small hollow at the base of her throat before she caught herself. Exactly her type. The realization struck her suddenly. Athletic but soft where it mattered.
Casey swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat. This was dangerous. “Hey. Come on in. You didn’t have to bring wine.”
Stephanie stepped inside, sandals quiet on the tile. “Seemed only fair. You’re sharing your pool with me.”
The living room felt smaller with both of them in it. Casey took the bottle. Their fingers brushed for the briefest second. The contact sent a spark up her arm that she immediately dismissed. “Make yourself comfortable.”
She led the way to the kitchen, intensely aware of Stephanie behind her. The messy bun kept drawing her eye. The way a few loose strands clung to the damp skin of her neck. Casey busied herself with the refrigerator, grateful for the rush of cooler air against her face. Her pulse had quickened. She focused on the salad, tossing it with the dressing she had thrown together.
She carried plates to the small table by the window. Conversation moved more easily than it should have. Stephanie asked more about the dive shop, about teaching nervous tourists to trust the water. Casey found herself describing the exact look people got when they first saw a parrotfish, that moment of pure wonder that made the difficult clients worth it. Stephanie listened with her whole body, fork sometimes paused mid-air, dark eyes steady. The messy bun kept slipping. One strand fell across her forehead and she tucked it back with absent fingers.
