Page 19 of Rubber Duckie Shifter Next Door

Sig pauses mid-step. “You don’t?”

I shake my head. “I would have mentioned it if I had.”

We resume walking in silence. Sig leads me toward the pool, tosses his shirt on the hot concrete and kicks off his flip-flops. My eyes are glued to his abs and the trail of hair leading into his swim trunks when he adds, “There has to be something.”

“Huh?”

“Your duckie thing.”

“I really don’t have one.”

He frowns and dives into the crystal-clear water, but by the time he rests his forearms on the edge, he’s grinning. “Come on in. The water’s perfect.”

I pull my sundress over my head to reveal my pink bikini, unbuckle the cute sandals I got on a day trip in Costa Rica, and dive in.

The water is cold and refreshing. I get used to it by the time I surface and float up to Sig, feeling relaxed and happy.

“You must have a duckie thing,” he says. “Everyone does.” When I frown, he adds, “Not necessarily a collection like mine. Just that one thing that means more to you than anything else.”

I think of the kids. Of the man in the water next to me. Of Ada. “Family.”

“Family doesn’t count,” Sig says instantly. Like he doesn’t even have to think about it. Like no one will ever matter to him as much as his duckies.

“Of course, family counts!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Family always comes first.”

“I hear a but in there somewhere…”

“There isn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, which is more brown than blond now that it’s wet.

Despite my annoyance with him, I’m drawn to the man like a kid to a water slide. I long to run my fingers through his drenched locks, trace them along his chiseled jawline, and pull him in for a kiss.

“Rachel…” The way he says my name, his voice filled with emotion, makes my heart race. “I’d give this place up in a heartbeat for the people I love.”

My heart skips a beat and then starts racing double-time.

He doesn’t mean me, I remind myself. He doesn’t love me.

We’ve barely known each other for a week. It’s too soon. We’re just two neighbors who are getting to know each other, with make-out sessions in between. We haven’t even had sex.

And yet every part of me wants this man to say that I matter more to him than the duckies surrounding us.

He lets go of the pool’s edge and treads water. “What if you had to pick one thing that you love most, but you couldn’t pick people?”

I tread water too. “You’re really not going to drop this one, are you?”

Sig smiles sheepishly. “It’s important.”

“Okay. Fine. Cruise ships.”

“Full size or collectibles?”

“The kind that can take me places…” I say, and instantly feel guilty because cruising is the reason why I wasn’t there for the kids all these years. I grab the edge of the pool again. “Look, Sig. I get that collecting duckies is important to you, but I don’t plan on collecting cruise ships or anything else.” I plan on getting a steady job and taking care of Noah, Anna, and Lisa.

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Sig slides below the water’s surface and then resurfaces with a splash.

I frown. “Worried? Why?”