She shut off the ignition and stepped out, drawing in a lungful of salt-laden air. A sultry breeze lifted the few wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail on the twelve-hour drive. Two seagulls soared overhead, crying out their welcome.

  “Thank you, birdies.” She glanced back at the house, unable to keep her smile from spreading. “Yes, I think this will do.”

  She leashed her Maltipoo and set her on the ground. The caramel-colored dog tugged on the leash, nose down, eager to explore her new playground. After she pottied, Sadie said, “Let’s go see the house. Wanna go see the house? Yes, we do.”

  Leaving her things for later, Sadie unlocked the front door using the keypad. Once inside she shut the door and let Rio off the leash. The hot air that washed over her didn’t even put a dent in her mood. The pictures of the place hadn’t done it justice. The open floor plan led to a wall of windows at the back side of the house where a sliding door welcomed visitors onto the deck. Evening light flooded the immaculate space. Splashes of pastel blue complemented the muted tones of gray and white. The décor was simple, the furnishings lush.

  “Wow, are we lucky or what?” After sharing a miniscule apartment for an outrageous sum, this place felt as big as a palace.

  Rio was busy scampering around, sliding across the floor in her excitement to see it all, experience it all right now.

  “Do you like it? Isn’t it so beautiful?”

  Sadie walked across the wooden plank floor, running her fingers across the butter-soft sofa as she went, then kicked on the air-conditioning. The unit clicked on, then began to hum quietly. The cottage still smelled of new construction—Mrs. Miller had had it completely renovated when she’d bought it last year.

  Rio yapped at a floor sculpture of a pelican.

  “Be nice to our new friend. She won’t hurt you.”

  Leaving the dog to her explorations, Sadie continued her tour upstairs where the lavish master bedroom exceeded all her expectations. She threw herself onto the king-size bed and stared up at the ceiling fan. “God, You are so, so good.” While the fan whirled in slow circles, she made a snow angel on the puffy duvet, then hopped up to investigate the master bath.

  The focal point of the room was a floor-to-ceiling-tiled shower featuring multiple showerheads, including a giant rain showerhead. In the corner a clawfoot tub stood, a fluffy white towel draped over its side.

  She flashed the tub a wink. “See you later, big guy.”

  She exited the master and peeked into the tastefully appointed guest room, then headed back downstairs. It was so quiet here—no jets soaring overhead, no cars honking outside her window, no toddlers screaming through the wall, no jackhammers clanging. Just the quiet sounds of the surf. In other words, perfect for writing. Thoughts of starting the dreaded project tightened her neck muscles.

  Rio approached, tiny tongue lolling, brown eyes sparkling. “We just won’t think about that right now, will we?” She dug her phone from her pocket and called Caroline, who answered with, “Have you started writing yet?”

  “I just got here. This place is beautiful.” Sadie spun in a circle, arm flung out, head flung back.

  “Glad you like it.”

  Sadie got dizzy and fell into the welcoming arms of a plush leather armchair.

  A dog yipped in the background. “I’m at the Fraziers’. Their Chihuahua doesn’t want to go out. Oh well, I’ll just carry her. Did you get unpacked? Meet your new neighbor?”

  Her friend knew her all too well. Mrs. Miller said the duplex neighbor would probably keep to himself. He was renting for the summer. “Not yet. Maybe I’ll bake him cookies or something.”

  “Don’t get sidetracked. You have a book to write.”

  “It’s the weekend. I’m not writing till Monday.”

  “Fair enough. Trixie, no! Don’t piddle on my favorite . . . Ugh. Gotta go. Have fun.”

  “See ya.” Sadie ended the call. Time to bring in her things.

  “Know what this place needs, Rio? Some happy music.” She retrieved her smart speaker from her purse and started the Spotify Summer Romance playlist she’d set up during a free hour her last week of school. She’d been overdosing on romance material of all kinds. Couldn’t hurt.

  The happy riffs of “Summer Nights” from Grease began. She cranked it up, beaming broadly. “That’s better. Let’s go get our things. Will you help carry the bags? No? Oh, you’re so useless. Why do I keep you around?”

  Back at the car, Sadie loaded down: rolling suitcase, snack bag, Kate Spade laptop bag, and one heaping box of romance novels. She hadn’t read them all—certainly not the more, shall we say, smutty ones with the clinch covers. She waggled her head, proud of herself for knowing the correct term. She’d come a long way in the past month. But no way was she writing that kind of romance. She still had no idea what the plot would be, but it would definitely qualify as a slow-burn romance that culminated in a simple kiss. She was already pushing her boundaries far enough.

  It was a handful with a wriggling Rio on the end of the leash, but she made it back to the porch in one trip. She let go of the rolling bag and turned the knob . . .

  It was locked.

  * * *

  Sam Ford glared at the wall separating his unit from the one next door. The upbeat music had started just a few minutes ago, but it was already on his last nerve. And that was before the dog started up. Some ankle-biting menace, no doubt.

  So much for the nice, quiet neighbor the owner had told him was moving in for the summer. The whole summer. He put the throw pillow over his head. A little peace and quiet, God. Someplace to lick my wounds. Is that too much to ask?

  The room went blessedly quiet.

  Before he could draw a breath, another bebopping tune started up.

  Growling, he got up and went out to his deck where the sounds of surf covered the music. He glanced across the house-length deck, which he would now have to share.

  Well, he could do a little rearranging, couldn’t he? Give himself some privacy. And he should do it before the woman came out here and noticed he’d moved things around. Wouldn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. He glanced at the three planted palms. Those would suffice. He lined them up across the middle as a sort of barrier and stood back to survey the change. Better than nothing. It certainly got the point across: this side is mine; that side is yours.

  That done, he took the three deck steps into the backyard and walked around his side of the house to where he’d done a little landscaping for Mrs. Miller. He’d dug up the scrubby old bushes, put down a weed barrier, and added some nice crepe myrtle. The bushes would grow well here in the sunlight, and the blooms added a splash of bright pink. He ambled toward the front of the house, his feet sinking in the sandy soil as he went.

  The cottage itself was in immaculate condition—the front of it holding plenty of curb appeal. Though he couldn’t have cared less about the appearance of the house when he’d rented it. Anything that got him out of Bluffton suited him just fine.

  A knocking sound came from the direction of his stoop.

  He stepped closer and saw a woman jabbing the doorbell, not once but three times.

  “Can I help you?”

  She jumped and whirled around. Stepped back. Tripped over a little dog who let out a squeak.

  Sam foresaw the inevitable and darted forward. But he was too far away.

  “Oh!” The woman stumbled down the steps, landing on the sandy soil on one knee as a box spilled from her arms and rained down a cache of books.

  She looked behind her. “Rio!”

  The dog, tail wagging furiously, jumped up on the woman and licked her chin.

  “My poor baby, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” The woman checked over the mutt.

  “You okay?” Sam asked because that seemed the appropriate thing to say.

  “Sure, sure, I’m fine.” She blew a strand of short blonde hair from her face and shot a smile his way. “You scared me there. You must be my new neighbor. I expected you to show up on the other side of the door.” She let out a nervous laugh. “Well, hi. Hello.” She waved, too, in case the verbal greetings weren’t clear enough. “I’m Sadie.”

  “Sam.”

  “Right. Nice to meet you, Sam.”

  He knelt to help with the books, and his gaze dropped to the cover in his hands. Wow. Those were some impressive pecs. He lifted a brow as he dropped the book into the box.

  Sadie’s cheeks bloomed with color. Long lashes swept down over brown eyes. “Oh, thank you, but I’ve got it. These are just a little bit of, uh, research. I’m a writer. Not a romance writer but . . . Well, I am now sorta, I guess. But that’s a long story. We’ll just put these away.” She shoveled the books into the box and stood.

  She came up no higher than his shoulders. Speaking of small, her dog jumped up on his leg, making it only as far as his knee.

  “I locked myself out—can you believe it? Been here all of two seconds, and I left my phone in the house when I went out to unload my car and . . . Well, I don’t have the code memorized yet, of course—and it’s on my phone, which is in the house. This is Rio, by the way. I named her after the vivacious character of Rio McDonald from The Outlaw. She was played by Jane Russell.”

  She took a breath. “Sorry, I’m talking too much. I do that sometimes.” She shifted the box to one arm and stuck out her hand. “Nice to formally meet you. We’ll be neighbors all summer after all.”

  He had a feeling this woman sent peace and quiet running for the hills. He sighed as he took her hand. “Pleasure.” Her hand was small and dainty in his. Smooth skin. And she had some kind of clean, sweet scent that teased his nose. Maybe her hair.

  “Down, Rio. Get off the nice man.” Sadie grabbed the dog’s leash and gave a little tug. “She’s harmless, I promise. And I’ll keep her out of your side of the yard. I’m sorry to bother you, but can I use your phone? I need to call Mrs. Miller to get the code.”

  “I know it.”

  Her brows pulled together. “You know it?”

  “The code. Had to go over and check on the hot water heater last week.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s great then. I was already going to bake you a cake—you know, just to be neighborly, but now I’ll make you cookies too.”

  His head was spinning a little. He hadn’t heard this many words in the two weeks he’d been here. “That’s not necessary.”

  She waved him off. “Oh, I don’t mind. I love to bake. But I’ll get out of your hair if you tell me the code?”

  “It’s 124060. Can I carry the . . . ?”

  But she was already skirting the dog and carting her box and belongings off toward her own stoop. “Thank you. Sorry to have bothered you. I’ll memorize the code this time. Go on, Rio, that’s a good girl.” She leaned close to the keypad, pressed some buttons, straightened, and twisted the knob.

  She threw him a smile over her shoulder. “Worked like a charm. 124060. See? I already have it memorized.” She juggled the box, leash, and suitcase as she navigated the screen door. “Thank you again!” She gave another wave. “I’ll bring those goodies over in the next day or two.”

  “You don’t have”—he began, but she was already gone—“to do that.”

  Three

  Weave the threads of your characters’ pasts into their present-day lives in a way that deepens the story.

  —Romance Writing 101

  Sadie woke to the bright morning sunlight puddling on the white duvet. In the distance the surf whooshed against the shoreline in rhythmic waves. Aah. She could get used to that sound. When she stirred, Rio hopped up and licked her face. “Good morning, baby. Did you sleep well? Yes, you did. Do you have to go potty?”

  Rio froze, all but her fluffy tail, her brown eyes lighting.

  “Let’s go! Let’s go potty.” Sadie grabbed the dog and stopped by the restroom on her way downstairs. Wearing a pair of leggings and a tee, she deemed herself presentable enough to make an appearance outside.

  She detoured to the kitchen. “Just a minute. Gotta get the coffee going . . . Mommy needs her caffeine. There we go. See, that didn’t take long. Now we’re ready to go outside.”

  She slid open the patio door, and Rio dashed past her onto the deck and down the steps to the fenced-in yard. Sadie followed. She’d be sharing the long wooden deck, which was divided by three potted trees. She peeked around the palm branches and spied her neighbor reading the newspaper with his morning coffee. “Well, hello! Good morning.”

  He turned her way and muttered what she assumed was a greeting before returning to his paper.

  Someone needed more coffee. Then again, he hadn’t been all that friendly last night either. As she walked down the deck steps, she remembered that Mrs. Miller said he kept to himself.

  Maybe she should ask the woman about changing the key code since Sam knew it. She’d thought of that about midnight when a sound awakened her. But it was only Rio, gnawing on Sadie’s favorite sandals.

  While the dog sniffed around in circles, Sadie took in her surroundings. The deck itself took up most of the yard. The beach began only twenty feet or so beyond the property line. There were already joggers and shell seekers at the waterline. She couldn’t wait to put on her tennis shoes and hit the shore. Mrs. Miller had said it was a busy public beach—the access pathway cut through on Sadie’s side of the house.

  She glanced back at her neighbor, still locked in on his newspaper. His thick black hair was sleep tousled, and his facial hair hovered between five-o’clock shadow and beard. He was a handsome man, if a little on the Neanderthal side, with thick prominent brows set over amber eyes—lion eyes. And even though they were barely into June, his olive skin was already bronzed.

  Well. She should probably stop staring.

  Rio found an agreeable spot by some sort of palm bush. “Good job, Rio.”

  After a cup of coffee she’d go for a nice jog, then she’d head to the store and stock up on food—including the ingredients to make Sam’s goodies. Nothing softened up a neighbor like baked goods. She’d make those today so she could focus on plotting her book tomorrow. Her publisher wanted the proposal ASAP.

  The thought of that task overwhelmed her. Not to mention the large sum of money she owed. Her stomach twisted hard.

  She mentally took a brush and painted a swath of black across those worries. She didn’t have to think about any of that today. Today, she’d jog on the beach. She’d enjoy every last one of those shower jets. (She’d had a delightful soak in that clawfoot tub last night.) And then she’d bake a yummy cake for her neighbor.

  * * *

  Sam flipped the burgers, the savory aroma of grilled beef making his stomach growl. He’d been inside most of the day—hiding, let’s face it. Because little Miss Chatterbox and her tiny yappy dog had taken over the deck this morning.

  First she’d appeared straight out of bed to let the dog out, then she’d returned, minus the dog, in a pink leotard thing that left little to the imagination. She’d come back from her jog glowy somehow and with more energy than she’d had before.

  She had left the house for a while—groceries, she’d said—but by then it was lunchtime and he decided to go to Vinnie’s Diner. By the time he’d returned, so had she.

  So he stayed inside for the afternoon and watched the Braves lose to the Reds. Then he fell asleep on the sofa because he’d lain awake half the night reliving that ridiculous meeting with his neighbor and wondering how he was going to avoid her the whole summer when she so clearly wanted to talk, talk, talk. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to conversation in general, mind you. He chatted with clients and . . . well, family.

  Okay, he wasn’t the talkative sort. But he’d come here to think and take a break, for crying out loud. If today was any indication, he’d be tiptoeing around his neighbor all summer.

  The yapping dog had woken him from his nap just after five, and he remembered the beef patties he’d bought at the Piggly Wiggly. Weighing the odds of having another encounter with Chatterbox, he grabbed the beef and slipped outside.

  Now said burgers were done and—bonus—he’d managed to avoid the woman next door. Congratulating himself, he set the burgers on the loaded buns and shut off the grill.

  “Hi, neighbor.” Sadie slipped out onto the deck, wearing her third outfit of the day—white shorts and a blue top that bared her shoulders.

  Nice shoulders, he had to admit. As far as shoulders went. Since when did he care about shoulders? “Hi.”

  “Wow, that smells great. Do you grill out a lot?”

  He grunted and glanced back at the grill. “Came with the house. You can use it if you want.”

  “I didn’t even think about that when I went to the grocery. But to be totally honest, I’ve never used a grill. My apartment doesn’t have a balcony, and I wouldn’t even know how to turn it on.”

  He grabbed his seasonings and turned for the door. “It’s not difficult.”

  “Well, maybe you can show me sometime. I love a good grilled steak. Are they hard to cook? How do you know when they’re done the way you like? I prefer medium myself, and I use a thermometer when I’m broiling, but I don’t know if the house has one of those.”

  Mercifully his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. “Gotta take this.”

  “Oh, sure. Enjoy your dinner.”

  He slipped back inside and checked the screen. Sighing, he set his plate on the coffee table and took the call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, honey. What are you doing? Is this a good time to chat?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Well, I was just checking to see how things are going on the island. I hope you’re not working too hard.” Before slinking away from Bluffton, he’d committed to maintaining the yards of their island customers. Far be it from him to let down his dad and cousin.

  “It’s okay. I prefer to stay busy.”

  “I know you do. But I worry about you, honey.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. I just needed to . . . get away for a while. I haven’t had a vacation in four years.”

  “This is hardly a vacation. And you can’t tell me the invitation didn’t have something to do with your sudden departure.”