It was 69 degrees out in the middle of December, and I decided to take my mountain bike out for a ride around the neighborhood.

Normally, I like to run at least a mile so I can keep fitting into my size-four jeans, but it was Saturday and I wanted to see more of my new neighborhood.

Almost everyone outside was dressed in T-shirts and shorts, trimming hedges, walking their dogs, or putting up Christmas lights, which seemed weird without any snow in sight. I’d moved to Florida from Vermont, and I still couldn’t believe I was wearing a tank top, cutoff jeans, and flip-flops in the winter.

I was nearly home when I spotted my incredibly good-looking neighbor washing his police cruiser in his driveway. He was shirtless, and I could clearly see his well-defined chest and arms, with just a hint of... Read More