Page 10 of Hot Neighbor Summer

After the meeting, the day still dragged on forever. Grabbing some lunch in the diner, working out when we got home, even blowing a load in the shower did nothing to diminish all this pent-up energy I have.

The desire to see Bailey again has coiled its way into my mind and body so thoroughly that there's no way to shake it. I'm a live wire. I've been on edge ever since I watched him drive away through our front window Monday morning and have been desperately counting down the days until he returns for the weekend.

Where do we stand? Is he okay with what we did? Does he regret it, or does he want to do it again? Is he open to a relationship, or does he just want to keep things casual?

The only other time I've felt this frazzled, been this off-kilter, was when I skated onto the rink and circled around a certain dark-haired defenseman almost two decades ago. I had zero chill then, so I'll be damned if I start now.

"You're feeling this, too, right?" I ask Duke when I'm staring out the front window, waiting for Bailey to arrive. "I mean, it's not just me getting ahead of myself?"

"Yes on both counts," he replies with a sly grin from the couch, sipping on a scotch with his bare feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the coffee table. "Yes, I feel it, too, and yes, you are getting ahead of yourself. But that's just how you are. I wouldn't expect anything less. I've just mastered the vital art of practicing restraint."

"Pfftt. Restraint is overrated."

"Restraint is a way to ensure we don't move too fast before all three of us are ready. Bailey's just coming out of a relationship. We still don't know him that well, and the opposite is true, too. He doesn't know us, either."

"Yeah, well, I plan on changing that this weekend." Before I can fill Duke in on what I have in mind, I spot Bailey's car and tear out of the house.

* * *

"This was a great idea," Bailey says, smiling over his shoulder. "I've had the week from hell at work, and I love hiking."

"Glad you're having a good time," I reply, flicking his shorts playfully.

When I raced out to greet Bailey yesterday, the first thing I noticed was the dark circles under his eyes and his slumped posture. I figured some sunshine and fresh air might be just the thing he needs to regain some energy.

The three of us walk in silence. Duke's out front, leading us to a spot he and I uncovered on our first hike after we bought our house here. It's a pretty clearing with an awesome view of the lake.

I unfurl the blanket on the grass when we get there as Duke begins unpacking the picnic basket. Five minutes later, we're sipping on some of Duke's freshly made this morning berry hibiscus iced tea, munching on turkey and cheese sandwiches, and enjoying the beautiful day.

And the even more beautiful company.

"Tell us about your workweek from hell," I say.

"Or not. If you'd rather not talk about it," Duke offers, his mouth half full.

"Or not," I agree. "No pressure."

"It's just…people, you know?" Bailey says with a sigh. "Everyone's out for themselves. All they care about is looking good to advance their own careers. No one cares about the customer. No one cares about the actual outcome we're trying to achieve."

"That sounds frustrating," Duke says, and Bailey nods heartily.

"It is. I've even started looking for a job closer to here."

I lean forward. "Really?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately, the demand for project managers in Cumcircle isn't very high. Too bad because I would gladly end the lease on my tiny apartment and move here permanently."

An idea clicks into place, and when I look past Bailey to Duke, I see the cogs in his head spinning, too. He gives me a subtle nod, as if to say,We'll talk about this later.

"Were you close to your grandmother?" I ask, changing the subject.

Bailey mentioned last week that he inherited the house from her when she passed, and I'd like to know more.

He stops eating his sandwich and stares out into the lake, his face stoic before a wistful smile emerges. "I used to come here every summer to visit her. My dad left when I was three, and my mom basically hates me. No, wait. That's not right. Shedidanddoeshate me. Blamed me for my father walking out and for ruining her life. Mimi was my saving grace. She'd take me out canoeing and hiking, and in the evenings, we'd play canasta on the back porch." He swings his eyes to Duke then to me. "You guys ever played?"

"Can't say that I have," Duke replies.

"Neither have I."

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