The Summer of No Attachments (The Summer Friends #2) - Lori Foster Page 0,3

a few more months. Puppies don’t stay puppies. If they don’t love the dog—”

Hope raised a hand. “You’re preachin’ to the choir, sister. If I was allowed to have pets in my rinky-dink apartment, I’d be all about Daisy.” She made a face. “And okay, the pups, too. Heck, I’d start my own menagerie.”

Ivey grinned as she watched Hope flip back her dark, baby-fine hair. It was a gesture Hope used when making a point. A sort of “Hmph” expression.

“You’ll find a new place soon.” Not that Sunset had a lot of rental properties. Most people tended to buy their homes, but at only twenty-one, Hope wasn’t quite there yet.

“Well, speaking of that...could I ask a favor?”

Since Hope never asked for anything, of course Ivey said, “Anything.”

“A lakefront home out by Marty’s farm was recently sold. A big house with a lot of land. I don’t know if you remember it.”

“It’s surrounded by woods, right?”

“Yup, that’s the one. The people who lived there had a guesthouse that the wife’s mother lived in. Now that the mother has passed, they decided it was all too much for them, so they sold it, and the new owner wants to rent out that space.”

Finally catching on, Ivey put down the report she’d been skimming and turned to Hope with a grin. “You’re thinking of renting it?”

Excitement made Hope’s dark blue eyes brighter. “It’s so beautiful, Ivey. Near the lake and still close enough to the clinic that I wouldn’t have a long drive to work. And it’s private. I mean, I can see the main house, but I’d have my own driveway and my own little deck.” She drew a breath. “I already talked to the owner—a single father who’s new to the area—and he’s holding it for me until I go there tonight to check it out. After that, he’ll have to show it to other people.”

Immediately, Ivey knew the issue. “You want company when you go?”

Now that it was out in the open, Hope seemed to wilt with relief. “Would you? I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t—”

“Hey.” Ivey leaned against the counter and smiled. “I’d die of curiosity if I didn’t see it, too. And, Hope? You don’t have to explain to me, okay? I get it.”

“Thank you.” Hope blew out a breath. “It’s right after work, but I only found out this morning or I’d have said something last night.”

“Maurice won’t mind waiting a little longer for his dinner. Odds are he’ll be sleeping until I get home anyway.” If she thought too much about how Maurice had slowed down, she’d turn melancholy.

Searching her face, Hope asked, “What about Geoff?”

“He’s history. Both gone and forgotten.”

Surprise took Hope back a step. “That was fast.”

“Happened Friday night, actually.”

“Why the heck didn’t you tell me?”

It was true, they usually shared everything, yet this time Ivey had hesitated. She picked up the report again, turned it in her hands, then admitted, “At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.”

“So you didn’t want to discuss it?”

She gave it some thought. “I think I just needed to come to terms with it first.”

Just then the receptionist, Karen, breezed in with her usual cheerful greeting as she quickly set up for the day’s appointments.

Ivey spoke to her a moment, going over the upcoming schedule.

When she finished, she took Hope’s arm and steered her to an exam room. They both liked Karen a lot, but she was known to gossip.

Voice low, Ivey explained, “Geoff was a mistake going nowhere fast. I decided I was better off without him.”

“Okay.”

Ivey noticed that Hope didn’t disagree with her on the mistake part.

“So...” They both heard customers arriving. Closing the door quietly behind her, Hope asked, “What does Geoff think about it being over?”

With a roll of one shoulder, Ivey said, “Who cares?” And she did her best to make it sound convincing.

Folding her arms, Hope leaned against the door. “Was he in agreement?”

“Not exactly.”

One dark brow elevated. “Did he ask what he could do to fix things?”

Deadpan, Ivey repeated, “Not exactly.”

“So he’s been an asshole?”

Ivey fought the grin but lost. “That word sounds so funny coming from a sweet girl like you.” Very rarely did Hope curse, and she was almost never unkind—except to jerks who deserved it.

Leaning in, Hope enunciated carefully, “Asshole,” with exaggerated effect.

Ah, that was just the injection of humor Ivey needed. The snickers started, grew into hilarious laughter, and finally, a minute later, faded into chuckles. Falling against each other, the two women