Girls Next Door

by Sandy Lowe

  “I figured it would be easier outside than in a tub. I can just see Max escaping the bathroom and getting the entire house wet,” she said.

  “How long have you lived in your house?” Hart asked. Hart had purchased the house next door to Summer almost three months ago, and today was the first day she’d seen her neighbor. Jamie had moved into her tiny apartment by the university after their parents died five years before, and they made it work. It was an adjustment, and therapy helped, but buying the house really gave Jamie the stability he craved. Hart’s hospital shifts were unpredictable, but her boss worked with her to maintain some sort of consistency for her brother’s sake.

  “I lived with my grandmother, and when she passed away, I inherited the bungalow. I love it. You moved in a few months ago, right?” Hart nodded. “I’m sorry I haven’t come over to introduce myself sooner.” Hart shrugged. With her crazy schedule at the hospital, she understood more than anybody how life got in the way of manners.

  “You probably would have only met Jamie. I’m not home a lot. He’s always wanted a dog. I’m sure he will love Max. Once he’s healed up, he’ll probably beg to take him for walks,” Hart said.

  “I hope so. Max is still super skittish around other people. I hope that I can calm him down enough to train him.” Summer’s voice was not hopeful.

  “I’m sure he will be fine after a few weeks. Is he still young?” Hart asked.

  “Probably only a year old. We aren’t quite sure,” she said. They reached the end of the park, and if it wasn’t for Hart’s firm grasp on Summer’s waist, Summer would have walked right into traffic just to get to the elementary school across the street.

  “Look, I feel bad enough that I scared your puppy off. Last thing I need to do is have to get you to a hospital, sew you up, and still try to find Max. One stressful task at a time, please,” Hart said. She loosened her grip and slid her hand down to Summer’s wrist, keeping her safely back on the curb until the cars cleared the street. If she slid her hand just a few inches more, their fingers would touch. Hart flushed at the thought, the blossoming heat welcoming and confusing all at once. She really did not have time for a girlfriend. Work was brutal. Her sex life was sparse at best. Quick releases in the shower, or if she really needed human touch, she would call Lori, the pharmaceutical representative, to have dinner and fast sex in her car or in one of the on-call rooms. It was a nice set-up for both of them, but it had been several months. Yet standing next to this beautiful, petite woman, Hart was rethinking her “wham bam thank you ma’am” attitude. Summer was the type of woman you wined and dined and treated with respect. Suddenly, that didn’t sound like such a bad thing.

  “I’ll head to the back of the building and meet you in the playground if you want to circle the front of the school. That way if he runs to the back, he’s trapped,” Hart suggested. Summer agreed and they split up. Hart hopped the fence and quietly walked to the back of the empty school. When she rounded the corner, she stopped in surprise. Max was under the slide eating something. Did this dog eat everything?

  “Max. Hey. Hi. I’m Hart. I live next door to your mommy,” she said. Max stopped chewing and looked at her. He stood up when she got within fifteen feet. Hart was afraid he was going to bolt again, so she froze. Where was Summer? Max was getting restless, and Hart knew he wasn’t going to stick around much longer. She had to make a decision. She could try to get him into the little alcove by the back door and trap him until Summer arrived with his leash. She stretched out her arms and walked toward him, hoping to make herself seem bigger. He darted to the left, but Hart was quick and blocked him. He turned and tried to race around her, but failed. Finally, after a bit of back-and-forth dodging, Max ran into the alcove per Hart’s plan. She followed him and tried her best to calm him as he paced in the enclosed area. Hart prayed Summer would show up soon with the leash. Where was she? “Max. Buddy. It’s okay. Settle down.” Much to her surprise, he sat. Feeling confident and somewhat the alpha dog now, Hart stepped closer. Max laid his ears back against his head and wagged his tail. Hart felt confident that he was going to stay put, so she moved closer to him. The second she was within reach and touched his collar, he spun out of her grasp and twirled her so she crashed against the chain link fence. As she bounced off it, she heard a giant rip in her jeans. “Son of a—” Hart looked behind her and saw her back pocket dangling down, her boxer briefs bared to the world. She sighed. She’d picked a really bad day to wear her sushi-themed underwear. Not only was the world going to see it, but her sexy neighbor would, too. Realizing it was futile to fix them, Hart left the ripped jeans alone and turned her attention back to Max who, surprisingly, was sitting down watching her. She swore he was smiling. He broke eye contact with her and turned his head when Summer called out his name. Max trotted out of the alcove and dashed past Summer as she rounded the corner of the school. She lunged for him, but he darted past her, his adventure far from over.

  “Why does he keep running away? What happened to you?”

  “You don’t even want to know what just happened. I honestly think he’s playing with us,” Hart said. She tried to keep her backside hidden from Summer, but it was hard when half of her jeans were hanging down.

  “Let me try to help.” Hart turned around and let out a growl when she heard Summer stifle a laugh. “It’s not that bad.” Hart lifted her eyebrow at Summer. “Okay, it is, but jeans with a jagged rip are sexy. Um, we should go.”

  Hart couldn’t stop from smiling. Summer was adorable when she was flustered.

  *

  “Can we stop quickly and grab something to eat?” Hart hated interrupting their search and rescue mission, but she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. “Something quick. We can stop at a gas station and I can pick up some peanut butter crackers or chips.”

  “We can drive through somewhere. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” Summer said. They had been driving around for the last three hours without a trace of Max. It was past dinnertime, and in an hour it was going to be too dark to see. Summer didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about Max all alone, in the dark, holed up in a bush somewhere. No water, no food—well, not the kind she wanted him to eat. She didn’t want anybody to have him, either, because if somebody had him, they should have called by now. And if they didn’t, then that made them assholes for stealing somebody’s dog.

  “Just somewhere quick,” Hart said. “It’s not like my eating habits are fantastic. Me and the vending machine at the hospital are BFFs.”

  “Do you not cook? Does your brother cook?”

  “He’s actually quite the little chef. He just hates to clean.”

  Summer darted into the nearest fast food restaurant. Their dinner of cheeseburgers and Cokes was eaten on the go. They drove past the park twice, the elementary school, the grocery store, and circled the neighborhood over and over. They stopped evening walkers, kids on bikes, and people who were getting out of their cars to ask if they had seen Max.

  “What am I going to do, Hart? We haven’t seen Max in hours, and it’s dark.” Summer pulled her truck over and stared at Hart. Hart reached out and rubbed Summer’s back in tiny circles to calm her. Summer chalked up her racing heart to anxiety over the lateness of the hour, not the warmth and closeness of Hart.

  “If we don’t find him tonight, I’ll help you in the morning before my shift.” Hart moved her hand up to Summer’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She kept her hand there and brushed her fingers softly against Summer’s skin. It was completely inappropriate after knowing her less than a day, but it felt right. Summer didn’t move. As a matter of fact, Hart swore Summer caught her breath and briefly closed her eyes when Hart moved her fingers to brush a few strands of hair away from her own neck. “Are you tired of driving? Do you want me to?”

  “Let’s just go home. It’s too dark to see anything anymore. I just hope he’s somewhere safe and hidden from people.”

  “I’m sure he knows how to take care of himself
for one night,” Hart said. She moved her hand from Summer’s warmth, instantly missing the connection. She didn’t want the night to end, but tonight did not seem like the right time to hit on her.

  Summer headed for their street, driving slowly in case they saw him. She parked in front of her house and rested her head against the steering wheel. When she turned her head to look at Hart, she shrieked. “Max!” Hart turned and saw Max sitting on the porch, wagging his tail as if the last ten hours hadn’t been solely about him and his shenanigans around town. Summer yanked open the car door and raced up the steps, forgetting that she might scare him again. He greeted her with kisses and didn’t try to escape. Hart closed the front gate in case he tried to make a run for it again. “Where have you been? You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.” She was rewarded with warm kisses all over her face.

  “You owe me a new pair of jeans, bud,” Hart said. She, too, was rewarded with tail wags. “Did you enjoy your one and only day of freedom?” She crouched down by him, and he sniffed her hand. He nudged her and she reached out to pet the top of his head.

  “You’re the only other person who has been able to touch him,” Summer said. “He really likes you.” They both babied him for a bit before Hart decided she needed to get home to check on Jamie.

  “I’m so happy he showed up. It was nice hanging out with you today, Summer.” She gave Max one more scratch behind the ears and stood.

  “Thank you so much for helping me. Hey, Hart? Do you really have to go? At least let’s have a beer.” Summer heard the pleading in her voice and hoped it wasn’t obvious to Hart that she wanted her to stay. Hart rewarded her with a lopsided smile.

  “That sounds great. Let me just check on Jamie and see what he’s up to. All day without me was either a blessing or a curse. And I should probably change my clothes.” She looked at her ripped jeans again and feigned distress. “These were my favorite.”

  Summer nodded with approval. “They do look good on you.” Realizing what she had just said, she flushed and cleared her throat. “Um. Just come on by.”

  Summer held on to Max’s collar as she opened the front door. Realizing she had about ten minutes or less, she quickly gathered up the morning paper and her coffee mug. She raced to the bathroom and groaned when she saw herself. She was a hot mess. After turning on the shower, she grabbed a clean T-shirt and pair of shorts. Her shower was under two minutes, but worth it. At least she was clean and no longer smelled like garbage. “This is going to happen to you sometime soon,” she said to Max, who suddenly wouldn’t leave her side. Summer swore he nodded at her. Both of them jumped at the knock at the door. She took one last look at herself and, after taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies, opened the door.

  “Hi,” Hart said. She handed Summer a stack of movies. “I didn’t know if you wanted to watch a movie or what kind of movies you even like, so I brought over several.” Hart grinned sheepishly at Summer.

  “There’s a little bit of everything here, except horror.”

  “My brother is watching Thongs of the Undead. It sounds worse than it is. I think. I hope. I can always go grab that if you really want to see a horror flick,” Hart said.

  Summer laughed. “No, thanks. I need something light and fluffy after today.” She handed Hart a beer and sat on the couch next to her. Their knees touched, but neither one moved away. Max nudged both of them before he curled up on the floor in front of them. “Here’s to a crazy day with a happy ending.” They clinked their bottles together and focused on the romantic comedy on the television. After about twenty minutes, Summer felt her eyes start to close. She wasn’t ready for this day to end, not with Hart sitting next to her. She could feel her body heat and wanted the connection to last.

  “Summer. Wake up.” Summer blinked as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder gently shaking her. She was confused because the television was sideways and she was trying to get her bearings. When she realized she was resting her head in Hart’s lap, she quickly sat up.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. She scurried away from Hart and tucked herself into the far corner of the couch.

  “Nothing to be sorry about. I just need to get home. It was actually nice having you close to me.” Hart stood up and reached out for Summer’s hand. She pulled her up from the couch and held her hand while they walked across the room. Hart turned to face Summer at the front door. “Even though I’m to blame for Max taking off, I would do this day again just to spend time with you.”

  Summer was very aware of Hart’s warm hand in hers, their fingers entwined. She nodded and caught her breath when Hart leaned down to place a soft kiss on her lips. It was sweet and patient. Summer felt herself sway into Hart and put her hand on Hart’s waist to keep her balance.

  “Maybe we can do this again without having to chase Max everywhere,” she said after they broke apart.

  “I’d like that,” Hart said. She touched Summer’s cheek gently and closed the door behind her. Summer leaned up against it and sighed. Today ended up being a good day. Not only did she find her dog before it got dark, but she got the girl, too.

  The Perfect Blend

  Rion Woolf

  Not long after I heard the familiar rumble of Riley’s Jeep in the driveway, she pushed open my front door. “Kate?”

  “In the kitchen!”

  I took a drink of cool water and wiped my brow with the edge of my food-crusted apron. The Ohio mid-July humidity was stifling despite the air conditioner blasting away. Soon Riley appeared at my side with a six-pack of cold beer and her charming boyish grin that held the power to break so many hearts.

  “Thank God you’re here.” I grabbed a sweaty bottle. “No matter what I do, I can’t get this recipe right.”

  Riley laughed as she glanced around the kitchen. The sink overflowed with dirty pans and utensils. The stovetop and granite counters that I usually kept spotless were coated with spills and splashes. I looked no better than my messy kitchen. Batter had caked on my hands and forearms. My long hair, usually kept in a tidy bun when I cooked, was loose with wild wisps of curly blond. I groaned with frustration and rubbed my temples, pushing off the edges of a panic attack.

  “You look like you can use a hand,” Riley said.

  “Please.” I was always grateful for my best friend’s help and that familiar wash of relief her presence brought with it. “I’m not sure we can finish the order by morning, though.”

  “Of course we can.” Riley tied a clean white apron around her slim waist.

  She was always the confident one, and she’d been that way since we randomly met when we sat next to one another on our first day of culinary school. She’d given me a friendly wink as the head chef prattled on about how we’d entered the finest and most demanding time of our lives in his classroom. “This is going to be a breeze,” Riley whispered. Her certainty, even then, had the ability to quiet my self-doubt and slow my anxious racing heart.

  Since I’d last seen Riley, she’d buzzed the sides and back of her hair. With her long dark bangs tucked behind an ear, I noticed how much the new haircut brought out the strength of her face, the boldness of her chin and cheekbones, and the fine scattering of dark lashes over her olive green eyes.

  “Team Culinary Creations!” Riley jokingly showed off her biceps until I laughed.

  True, Riley and I were a business team. We’d started Culinary Creations four years ago, a business that catered desserts to private parties from my small kitchen. Although we both graduated from culinary school with honors, I was generally better at the baking and displaying of food, while Riley was much better at dealing with customers and the business end of things. Together we created Culinary Creations after we moved to my hometown of Columbus. Riley had said she needed a new beginning in a new city, and I’d needed a return to the familiar.

  “What’s the order?” Riley asked, rolling up her white sleeves, the crisp cuffs against her strong, summer-tanned forearms.

  I threw my hands up in dramatic desp
air. “The Ambrosia Tart.”

  Riley laughed and joined me at the counter. “What was it Chef Debbie used to call this dessert in our cooking lab? Moody? Unpredictable?”

  “She nailed it.” I handed the recipe over to Riley. “We need two hundred fifty of these bad bitches by ten a.m. for a wedding lunch.”

  “There’s a trick to this dessert,” Riley said. “It’s all about balance, right? We’ve got to find that perfect spot between sweet and tangy.”

  “I’ve been trying to find that perfect spot all day.” I took a pull on my cold beer. Riley read through the recipe and checked over the mounds of mandarin oranges and pineapple I’d spent so much time peeling, sectioning, and crushing. Over the sweet smell of the fresh fruit, I caught the familiar scent of Riley’s Polo aftershave. It smelled powerful and inviting, reminding me of our early culinary school days. Back then Riley’s workstation was next to mine where she’d been by my side no matter how hard the recipe.

  Riley, it seemed, had always been there to help me in one way or another these past few years. Her jokester personality was also full of compassion, and we’d quickly become friends. I learned that she had been a full-time firefighter before coming to culinary school, and those cool green eyes of hers had seen so much fire, so much pain. Cooking, she told me, was all about making people smile. She’d returned to school looking for a balance in her professional life between all that pain and pleasure. I imagined that Riley was an excellent firefighter, not just because of her muscular strength, but also because she was one of the most observant people I’d ever met. She noticed every time my breathing ratcheted up along with all of my frequent escapes to the bathroom. When I finally told her about my debilitating anxiety disorder, she promised to help me in any way she could. Riley, a caretaker at heart, kept that promise by staying close and frequently reminding me to breathe. I was so grateful for my best friend and tried not to get jealous over the women that circled around her like flies on sugar. Riley, I told myself, was meant to be my great friend and nothing more. I’d been attracted to her, with all those muscles of a well-disciplined athlete, but I knew I wasn’t the kind of girl Riley was looking for. I was a soft, introverted reader who rarely left home.