"Damn." Then Jay grinned wickedly. "Okay, some asshole nearly hit me! I swerved to avoid him and bam, I hit her truck."
Audrey laughed. "Excellent! That'll fly."
Jay's smile faded as she picked up her nearly empty mug again. "And if I happen to see her on Thursday, I'll tell her that tale."
"So Thursday is still the day for your dinner date?"
"That's how it started. Now it's evolved into her trying to get home before I'm in bed."
Audrey shook her head, then tucked her red hair behind her ears. It was a gesture Jay had learned to recognize in the ten years they'd known each other. Audrey was about to make a profound statement.
"Jay, you have got to talk to her."
"I have talked to her, Audrey."
"No. I mean really talk to her. Because this is going to end badly if you don't."
Jay sighed and brushed at her short strands of hair on her forehead. "I talked to her, Audrey." She nodded. "And it was bad, you're right. She accused me of being selfish."
"What?"
"I like the prestige—and the money—of her position, but I'm not willing to sacrifice for it. I want the cake and to eat it too, apparently."
"What the hell? You could care less about the prestige." She raised her hand to Rhonda. "Bring us another, Rhonda." She looked back at Jay. "That pisses me off. It was her idea to buy that big-ass house. I remember your arguments over that. And your agreement was if she wanted it, she was going to pay for it."
"Right."
"And that's how it still stands?"
"Yes. I mean, we split the bills. But the house payment, yeah, that's all hers." She leaned forward. "Have I told you how much our electric bills were last summer?"
"Yeah. About the same as my monthly rent." They both reached for the frosty mugs at the same time when Rhonda brought over another margarita for them. "Thanks."
"Anyway, we got into a huge fight, accomplished nothing other than having make-up sex, which let me tell you, ain't all it's cracked up to be."
"So now what?"
Jay shrugged. "Nothing. I just needed a therapy session to talk about it, and this," she said, picking up her glass. "Because as you know, I no longer have a social life. You're it, I'm afraid."
"Thanks a lot."
CHAPTER TWO
Drew passed the narrow driveway to her house and drove to the back of the property, parking her truck under the carport she'd built last year. It held three trucks, but everyone knew Drew got the shaded slot at the end. She smiled. One of the perks of being the boss.
Three of her four trucks were back, and she glanced at the numbers, noting Jimmy and his crew was still out. She opened her phone, speed dialing his number as she walked to the back of her truck, her hand moving unconsciously along the smooth bumper, pausing to touch the tiny ding with her index finger.
Damn, she was cute.
"Hey, Jimmy, it's me. Just checking on you. It's after six."
"We're finishing up, Drew. The blueprint was off. We damn near dug up their septic system trying to get that tree in the ground."
Drew nodded. It was a common occurrence with older homes. Some of the blueprints were simply hand-drawn maps marking the septic system and field lines, and sprinkler systems. They had dug up their share of pipes over the years.
"But I trust you didn't dig it up."
"Of course not. We moved the tree back about ten feet."
"Need me to call the owner?"
"No. He was here. It's all cool."
"Okay, great. Well, I'm heading up to the house. See you tomorrow."
Drew stepped back and turned a slow circle, her glance going to the trucks and equipment she'd amassed in the last eight years. Her grandparents had left her the house and property, but the business she'd started on her own. Her grandfather had still been alive when she'd started out. For that she was grateful. He'd been so proud.
The youngest of four sisters, all the others being ten years or older than herself, she'd been the only one still living at home when her father had first taken ill. That summer, they shipped her off to Austin to stay with her grandparents, which was fine with her. Nothing but lazy days that seemed to last forever as they alternated between the lake—only a ten-minute drive away—and the spring-fed pool her grandfather had built back in the sixties. After that summer, it became the norm. Each year when school ended, they took her to Austin, and each year, she stayed until the weekend before the new school year began. And when it came time for college, there wasn't much indecision for Drew. She wanted to be in Austin with her grandparents. She just didn't know what she wanted to be. So, taking her grandfather's advice, she put off college a year and went to work with him in the tiny plant nursery he'd opened just to keep him busy, her grandmother used to say. But it was there Drew found her calling. So off to college just down the road in San Marcos, she majored in horticulture, a degree her parents and siblings thought she was crazy for getting. How could she possibly make a living with that kind of degree?
She smiled as she turned away from the shop area, as she liked to call it, and headed down the path to the house. It was her grandparents' house, yes, but she'd had it remodeled and redesigned twice now. It hardly resembled the house she remembered. The garden and pool, however, remained nearly as her grandfather had kept it, with only a few modern upgrades. She went there now, closing the wooden gate behind her, locking away the world—and the summer heat—as she walked into the shade, her sandals moving quietly across the flat stones her grandfather had laid by hand nearly fifty years ago. It was one of the things she loved about the pool and garden. No modern-day concrete. Just stones and mortar, a mixture of limestone, hauled down from the Hill Country west of town, and flagstone, smooth flat rock that lined the pool area and provided pathways through the garden. The pool itself, shaped in a curvy S-pattern, was well-shaded now. When she was a kid, the trees were young, the shrubs were barely two feet tall, and flowers had dominated. Today, the pool and garden were kept cool and shaded by the native live oaks her grandfather had planted. Tucked around the trees were flowering mountain laurels and red buds, the showy flowers lasting for weeks during the cool, wet .days of April.
The covered sitting area—her addition to the garden—provided all the modern conveniences of an outdoor kitchen, with electricity and running water. She flipped on the ceiling fan, then pulled off her white tank top and tossed it on the wicker loveseat before opening the small refrigerator. She moved the miniature bottles of orange juice aside and selected one of the many varieties of wine coolers she kept there. Standing to her full height, she opened the bottle and took a large swallow, enjoying the refreshing taste of the cool liquid.
Without thought, she slipped off her sandals, then pulled the red bra over her head, tossing it beside her shirt. Her shorts soon followed and she walked confidently to the edge of the pool, her skin shivering in anticipation of the cool spring water. Taking a deep breath, she dove smoothly into the pool, her body gliding just under the surface, taking the curves of the pool with familiar ease. It was a routine she kept to most days, except in the very coldest months of winter. But even then, on occasion, she'd take a quick dip. The water temperature held fairly steady at sixty-six degrees, both winter and summer.
She followed the curves, surfacing only once to take a breath before continuing on to the opposite end, the shallow side closest to the house. There she stopped and stood, seeking out the patch of sunlight as she shook her hair, reminding herself she needed a cut. Then she turned and slipped under the water again, retracing her route to the deep end of the pool. She made five laps, finally stopping and pulling herself out of the pool. She stood there naked, catching her breath, letting the light breeze dry her as she again twisted her hair behind her back, wringing out the water, much like she'd been doing since she was a kid.