"Do I?"

Sam smiled. "Want to talk about it?"

"Oh, I'm okay. It's nothing really."

Sam reached over and squeezed her knee. "You know, I don't tell Tori everything.

And I'm a good listener."

Casey took a deep breath. "It's just...I'm an idiot," she finally said.

Sam laughed. "Okay. So I'm going to guess it involves a woman."

"Yeah." Casey nervously twisted her beer bottle in her hand. "Actually, it's Leslie,"

she said quietly.

"Your partner?"

"Yeah."

Sam nodded, wondering how many questions she could ask without Casey clamming up. "Want to elaborate?"

"I've committed the ultimate sin." Casey looked at her, meeting her eyes. "I've got a crush on my partner."

"Not to burst your bubble, but I can relate."

"No, you can't. Tori wasn't straight."

"No, but I was. Or I thought I was."

Casey sighed. "I don't know what it is. We just clicked. We can talk, you know?

Stuck in a car every night, we can talk. We're comfortable together."

"Friends can talk too. Friends can be comfortable together."

Casey grinned. "Yeah. But I want to jump her bones."

Sam laughed. "Yes, that does cross that friendship line."

106.*"And of course, she's engaged to be married. That kinda puts a damper on things."

"Does it?"

"It would, if she didn't touch me all the time. And God, Sam, sometimes she looks at me and...well, I feel something."

"Like what?"

"Like...well, like my heart does the pitter-patter thing. It's disgusting."

Sam bit back a smile, knowing how vulnerable Casey must feel at the moment. So she tried another approach. "You know, you've only known her a few weeks. Maybe-"

"I know," Casey said quickly. "That's why I'm telling you I'm an idiot."

This time Sam couldn't hold back her smile and she leaned over and hugged Casey.

"You're not an idiot." You're just falling in love. But she couldn't say that without Casey jumping overboard. "Maybe it's just...I don't know-"

"A phase?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm attracted to my partner, who's engaged to be married. To a man. And instead of coming to my senses, I'm jealous."

"Okay, let's change gears. What about Leslie?"

"I think she knows. I'm pretty sure she knows. I mean, like I said, I'm an idiot."

"I see. So do you think she feels anything too?"

"Christ, Sam, when I was holding her, I swear she felt something. And she said she- "

"Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean, when you were holding her?"

But Casey didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on Tori as she made her way down the ladder to the deck. She turned to Sam. "I'll be fine. Thanks for letting me talk."

"But-"

"Isn't this great?" Tori asked, spreading her arms. "I love late summer weekends like this. Not many boats on the water, don't have to fight anyone for our favorite cove.

It's perfect."

"More perfect if you had a beer, though, right?" Casey asked, going to their cooler.

"A beer and fishing pole." She walked to Sam. "And a kiss."

Sam's lips lingered, then moved to Tori's ear. "I love you," she whispered. She pulled away. "Now, go enjoy yourself. I'm going to sit here in the sun and read."

107.*She pulled a lounge chair out and laid a towel on it, then relaxed, slipping her sunglasses back on. But the crime novel couldn't hold her attention as much as the two women within her sight. She loved times like this. It made her feel as if her world were perfect. Tori and Casey had stripped off their shirts. They both stood at the railing-clad in skimpy sports bras and shorts, their feet bare-holding a rod and reel in one hand and a beer in the other.

She was so happy Casey came into their life. Casey and Tori, while so different, were so much alike. They were good for each other. More importantly, they knew they were good for each other. Tori finally had that best buddy she needed, and Casey, well, Casey had the big sister-and the family-that had been missing in her life.

Now if we could only get her love life settled. Sam smiled and opened the book again.

She liked Leslie. She didn't envy her having to go through what Sam suspected she was going through. Sam remembered how difficult if had been. The uncertainties, the fear. And the excitement of falling in love.

But falling in love with a woman for the first time could be shocking. Not only to yourself, but to those who knew you.

She should know.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Leslie twirled the wineglass methodically between her fingers, trying so hard to listen to the conversation-to be interested in the conversation-but truthfully, she was bored to tears. She'd obviously been to weddings before, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember there being this endless discussion of weddings and proceedings.

And honeymoons. My God. They'd dissected it to death. Surely there were more interesting topics to discuss?

Like famine in Africa, for instance. She smiled to herself, glad she hadn't lost her sense of humor this evening, even if her feet hurt from the high heels she'd chosen to wear.

She watched those around her, all cute couples paired up nicely, talking animatedly in groups. The bride and groom were the perfect match. Or so she'd been told a hundred times. And you and Michael look so happy. When's your big day? She swore if one more of Michael's friends asked her that question, she was going to throw up.

And there he was, chatting away with his buddies from college. They all hung on his every word as he was no doubt describing a new computer game he was working on.

Suddenly, she couldn't take it any longer. She bypassed the wine table, which was free to the wedding party, and headed to the bar instead.

Who has a wedding at a bar anyway?

"I'm complaining?" She shook her head. No.

108.*She chose a barstool on the corner, away from people, away from the TV where a group sat watching a college football game. Instead, she stared into the mirror behind the bar, meeting her eyes, not surprised at what she saw.

Confusion, and just a hint of depression. These were Michael's friends, Michael's people. Not hers. She didn't know them. And judging from the conversations she'd been subjected to, she didn't want to know them.

"What can I get for you?"

She leaned her elbows on the bar and rested her chin in her hands, smiling at the bartender. Yes, indeed. What could he get for her? She lifted a corner of her mouth in a smile, trying at least. "Something strong," she said.

"Straight up on the rocks?"

She shook her head. "Better kill it with something."

"Double Crown with a shot of Coke?"

"Perfect. And run me a tab."

"Sure thing."

She turned, watching the wedding guests through the double doors. Good Lord.

Again, who has a wedding at a bar?

"Are you with the wedding?" he asked as he placed the glass in front of her.

"Sort of." She picked up the glass and took a sip, nodding at him. "Perfect. What's your name?"

"Thank you. It's Paul." He pulled a rag out and wiped the wet spot in front of her, then tossed the rag behind him. "So, are you in the wedding?"

"God, no." She leaned closer. "Who gets married in a bar anyway?"

"They met here."

"So?"

"They come here a lot."

"His family owns the hotel, right?"

He laughed. "No. But I think it's kinda romantic. You know, they meet here as strangers one night, fall in love, then come back often for dinner, a few drinks, a room upstairs in the hotel. Why not tie the knot here too?"

"Good thing they didn't meet at the dry cleaners," she quipped.

109.*He laughed and moved closer. The look in his eyes was one she'd seen many times before. And mostly at bars.

"So? You here alone?" he asked.

She picked up her drink again, staring at him. "No." She took a sip. "Because if I was alone, I wouldn't be here."

"Weddings aren't your thing, huh?"

"Leslie, there you are. I've been looking for you."

She met Paul's eyes. "That would be Michael. My fiance," she added.

"You don't look like you go together," he whispered.

"I'm beginning to see that." She turned as Michael grasped her shoulder.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I got tired of wine," she said as she held up her glass. "Paul is just the best bartender."

"I'll take your word for it. But they're ready for dinner."

"We're having dinner here, right?"

"In a private room, yes. I'm sure Paul won't mind if you bring your drink."

"Do you mind, Paul?" she asked as she fished out some money from her purse and laid it on the bar.

"Not at all. I hope you'll come back later."

"Absolutely," she said as Michael led her away.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.