Page 26 of Space Oddities

“Simply?” I prompt, feeling my eyes crinkling at the corners.

She huffs. “Making use of your pool.”

Feeling more relaxed, I lean an elbow on the counter, smile wide. I haven’t felt this happy in days. Not since the food truck buffet. “You haven’t come out of your room for two days, and you’re telling me you come down now, in a bathing suit, right when Veronica shows up, just to use the pool?”

“Yes.” Nose in the air, she brushes the escaped wisps of hair from her face. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re home early today. I usually go out to the pool at this time.” With a regal air, Trish bends and grabs a bag I hadn’t noticed lying on the bench by the door. She hikes the canvas strap on her shoulder, the bottom of the bag slapping against her barely-covered ass. “So, don’t get so full of yourself, rich boy.”

With a flick of her wrist, she unlocks the door and marches out to one of the lounge chairs set up by the pool.

I make a mental note to come home early every day this week.

* * *

Trish

Jealous?Please.

I stomp my espadrilles over to the blue-and-white-striped lounge chair and drop my bag beside it.

Ididcome here yesterday, after still more hours of not being able to write, thinking a change of scenery would help the words come. It hadn’t, but that doesn’t mean my decision to throw my bikini back on has anything to do with jealousy. I roll my eyes even though there’s no one to see.

Flopping down on the cushion, I kick my legs up, crossing both them and my arms. Images of a braless Veronica and her freaking cookie offering run through my mind. I supplement them with fantasies of me popping her silicone chest orbs and pulling out her “natural blonde” extensions.

The sound of a lawn mower starting up brings me back to reality, and I analyze my surge of violent thoughts.

Salt on a sugar cookie. Iamjealous.

I recross my legs. Whatever.

“All those rules set to keep out the riff-raff.”

Sugar honey iced tea! I can’t believe I let that woman get to me.

Reaching into my bag, I grab my sunscreen spray and stand. Holding my breath, I cover myself with SPF 50 before pulling out my oversized visor that makes me look like an LPGA member but shades my entire face before sitting back down. Sun damage is no joke.

Shimmying my shoulders, I try to relax on the lounge.

The mower gets louder as Ian drives it out from behind the garage.

I blink. Then I blink again.

Ian’s shirtless. Wearing nothing but swim trunks and sneakers with white ankle socks, he should look ridiculous. Except he doesn’t. It’s the most causal I’ve ever seen him, and he’s every pool-boy/lawn-guy fantasy rolled into one.

He lifts one hand off the wheel and waves to me.

Ignoring him and his blinding white smile, I slide my notebook out of my bag and look over the list of story ideas I made earlier.

With my last book already sent to my editor, I’ve been trying to come up with an idea for the next book. I haven’t been able to produce much.

Idea #1 Enemies to lovers. Cowboy hero. Housing developer heroine.

Idea #2 Second chance, secret baby. Professor heroine. Student hero.

Idea #3 Billionaire romance. Hero and heroine CEOs of rival companies.

I make a big X over the list and turn the page. After all the knowledge I threw at Ian and my classmates the other day, I still can’t settle on which tropes to utilize and which character archetypes to lead with.

So much for getting work done. Besides writer’s block, now I’m having idea block. Nothing seems interesting.

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