peeked out, taking care not to be seen.
He was younger than I had first thought, probably around my age. He was tanned, with sandy blonde hair that was streaked by the sun in a way no salon could replicate. I watched, fascinated, as he used a clipper on the flowering jasmine vines that were trained on a small gazebo in the corner of the backyard. His profile reminded me of the marble carvings of Greek gods I had seen at the art museum in the city. He was the handsomest boy I had ever laid eyes on. He turned toward me and I ducked down below the window sill.
My face flushed bright red at the thought of getting caught peeping, but I couldn’t resist another look at him. I stealthily crept back up to peer over the sill but he was gone. He appeared abruptly from the opposite side of the yard pushing a wheelbarrow. Wheeling over to the jasmine clippings, he bent down and started to gather them.
I watched as he stretched his arms over his head and reached down to peel off his shirt, leaving him in worn faded jeans and work boots. He mopped his brow with the shirt and draped it over a chair under the gazebo. His body was as tanned as his strong arms, and he had the broad shoulders of a swimmer. His muscular torso was more than the equal of the male underwear models in my fashion magazines– only this fellow didn’t need any airbrushing.
Suddenly embarrassed, I backed away from the window and took a seat at my little desk where I couldn’t be seen. I leafed through a magazine from the stack, but found myself reading the same sentence over and over again. Frustrated with myself for feeling so jittery, I finally couldn’t sit still anymore. I got up to see that both the young man and wheelbarrow were gone.
Thirsty, I padded out to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. From the window over the sink I could see an old blue pickup truck out front with the wheelbarrow loaded into the cargo bed. There was a knock on the door that made me jump, and I peeked around the corner to see his shape through a stained glass panel alongside the front door. My first impulse was to run and hide.
“Don’t be silly,” I told myself as I headed over to answer it, “I live here now and I can look out my window anytime I want.” I smoothed my shirt, hardened my face and opened the door.
Our eyes met and his flew wide open with surprise. The thought flashed in my mind that maybe I looked too stern. He took a step back, missed the porch, and staggered backwards into a rosemary hedge out front where he landed on his butt. I didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny.
The look of shock in his dark blue eyes unnerved me, and I froze in place, not knowing what to say. He stood up but kept his distance.
“I– uhm, ah– is Abby here?” he sputtered out.
“No, she took Cruz to work,” I said softly. I felt bad about startling him so badly but couldn’t imagine what I’d done wrong.
He nodded, “I guess I’ll catch her later then.” His voice was deep and husky, and it appealed to me in a way that I couldn’t quite name. He walked to his truck and got in, watching me the whole way. The smell of crushed rosemary hung in the air. I closed the front door and pressed my forehead on it.
“What a bizarre day,” I said out loud.
Now I had two pairs of eyes I couldn’t get out of my head.
CHAPTER THREE
MARKET
I was swimming underwater in a warm blue sea, gliding along a rocky seafloor. Colorful schools of fish scattered before me and dolphins swimming by my side struggled to keep up the pace. Picking up speed, I soared gracefully into the entrance of a sea cave, only to be engulfed by darkness and trapped in a small space. There was a sudden oppressive weight on my chest; I struggled to catch my breath as fear rose in my heart...
I woke to find the quilt pulled up over my head. Pushing it back, I came face to face with Charlie, sitting squarely on my chest with his eyes closed and paws curled up under his body. I took a few deep breaths to steady my racing heart. For as long as