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house started to feel more like home. She would get some work done on the book she was writing, she decided, and then spend the afternoon in town, poking around and picking up some area rugs. This was her new house, the house of her dreams, and she wasn’t going to let the fact that she had a womanizing asshole for a neighbor detract from that.
    Feeling determined, she took a long sip of her coffee and gazed out the kitchen window. The early autumn sunlight brushed against the leaves, making the golds, reds, and coppers appear brighter.
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash movement on the driveway next door. Chace. Coming out of his house with that blonde girl from last night.
    He was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket. The girl (Michelle?) was wearing the same thing she had on last night, a ridiculously short skirt that was completely inappropriate for this time of year. She was hunched over in the cold, looking miserable as she climbed into Chace’s truck.
    Better you than me, honey, Lindsay thought. A stab of sadness pierced her heart as she remembered how it had been last year. It was exactly this time of year when she’d met Chace for the first time. She closed her eyes, letting herself remember that night.
    Then she forced herself to stop. It was nothing. What they had was nothing.
    Besides, she’d worked too hard to forget him to let herself relapse.
    She brought her coffee over to the table and booted up her computer.

    ***
    An hour or so later, she was happily ensconced in a scene, when there was a knock on her door. She stopped with her coffee halfway to her lips, then crossed the kitchen and looked out the front window.
    Oh, for the love of God. It was Chace. He was standing there on the front porch, a toolbox in hand. He was wearing the same outfit she’d seen him in his morning– the tight jeans, the crisp white t-shirt, the beat-up leather jacket. She looked around for a place to hide, wondering if she could slip back to the bedroom without him hearing.
    He knocked again. “I know you’re in there,” he said. “Your car’s here.”
    “So?” she said. “Maybe I got a ride somewhere. You don’t know.”
    “Open the door.”
    “What do you want?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound annoyed, like she was in the middle of something very important. Which she was – her book was very important. If she didn’t get it done, she didn’t get paid. And if she didn’t get paid, she didn’t have money. And if she didn’t have money, she didn’t eat. Eating was very important. So obviously she didn’t have time to just be answering random knocks on the door in the middle of the morning.
    “I need to talk to you.”
    “Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk.” She knew she sounded like a baby, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him in. Just because he lived next door didn’t mean he could just come waltzing over here any time he wanted. She wondered briefly if she should look into getting some kind of restraining order against him. Her sister Jamie had gotten one once, when an ex-boyfriend wouldn’t stop calling her. Apparently it was super easy, you just went down to the courthouse and filled out a form and voila, the person had to stay away from you. Easier than going to the DMV, even.
    “We need to figure out what we’re going to do about that fence,” Chace said, and knocked again.
    “What fence?” She peeked out the window.
    “The broken down fence that Maximilian got through.” He was looking up at the sky in exasperation. His eyes shifted over to the window, and she quickly stepped back.
    Damn. Had he seen her?
    “Of course,” he went on, “if you want Maximilian to get hurt, we can just leave it the way it is. Or, better yet, I can get the county inspector down here to look at it, and then we’ll have to pay all sorts of fees and processing. Plus, once he gets down here, he’ll probably start poking around into all