CHAPTER SIX
LONDON
“So, where does this leave us?” Nate asked me Monday night. We sat at a table in the back of the restaurant? where the light hardly reached and the flickering of candlelight was supposed to make everything look romantic. Instead it felt claustrophobic and damning.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“I know you needed me and I wasn’t there. Do you think you can forgive me?”
I sighed, wondering whether it mattered.
So he hadn’t been there for me. I resented that. But he’d had to work, and in his defense he dealt with runaways all the time. From his perspective, this was probably a pretty good outcome. She was with a family member, not kidnapped and murdered by a serial killer.
That wasn’t even the real issue, though. I’d been hot as hell for Reese Hayes, whether I liked to admit it or not. Nate and I had decided to make things exclusive—then I crawled all over another man.
What kind of person does that?
Not a woman who’s in love. Or even infatuated … And if I’d fallen out of infatuation in less than two months, that was pretty much it for me and Nate. Both of us deserved better, although I hadn’t decided what that should look like. It’d been fourteen years since I lived on my own. Was that why I’d been so eager to hook up with Nate? Fear of being alone?
Why was I falling into that trap?
I kind of liked the idea of doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. Maybe I should try eating ice cream for breakfast for a while, or color my hair bright red. Maybe I should buy a car that didn’t have a cleaning service logo on the side of it.
A red Miata. I’d always wanted one of those.
Now came the hard part.
“I don’t think it’s going to work out,” I said slowly. Nate frowned, his hand covered mine, squeezing it tightly.
“Babe, I think you’re overreacting.”
“No, it’s not—” I started to say, but then stopped myself. It’s not you, it’s me. Such a cliche, but in this case painfully true. Nate might not be perfect, but he was pretty great. He just wasn’t the man I wanted. All I could think about was Reese and how he’d felt between my legs.
Amazing.
I wanted to feel that again. Alive and awake.
Was I actually going to sleep with him? I really hadn’t decided … The thought definitely appealed. He wasn’t relationship material, but maybe I didn’t need a relationship just yet.
Maybe I just needed to get laid.
Yup. Ice cream for breakfast, color hair, get laid, buy Miata. Then more ice cream. I had a plan.
“London?”
I focused on Nate again, blinking rapidly. His face was so earnest, so full of concern.
“I think we should stop seeing each other,” I said firmly, and the words felt right. Slightly painful, but liberating, too.
He frowned.
“You’re breaking up with me?” he asked slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what I’d just said. “Jesus, Loni. I get that I f*cked up, but this seems kind of harsh.”
“It’s not that,” I said. “I’ve just realized that what I feel for you isn’t strong enough. I’m sorry. I wish I could change things—”
“It’s about Reese Hayes, isn’t it?”
I shook my head, although part of me knew I was lying.
“It’s about us,” I told him. “We just aren’t going to work, so it’s best to end it now.”
“I asked you to sleep with me, not marry me,” he snapped. “God, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Good question. I swallowed, because he was starting to look angry and I couldn’t blame him for that. But I couldn’t date someone out of guilt, either. Nope. A clean break was the only decent course of action.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said carefully. “There’s no future here and I respect you too much to lead you on.”
Nate threw his napkin on the table and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. His face was getting red and I realized I’d never seen him upset before. What Reese had told me about him ran through my mind, but I pushed it away. This was Nate. Sweet Nate. He was hurt, and no wonder. None of this was fair to him.
“What the f*ck, Loni? You don’t want to lead me on? What the hell do you think you’ve been doing the last eight weeks? Is your cunt made of gold? Because I swear to God, women don’t pull this shit with me and get away with it.”
My mouth dropped open and I gasped. Nate didn’t talk like that. What on earth had happened here?
“Nate, I—”
“We’re over.” He stood, glaring at me. “I can’t believe how much time I wasted on you.”
Then he turned and walked away stiffly, rage all but radiating through the air around him.
Well. That was special.
I glanced around, hoping nobody had noticed our little scene. Amazingly they hadn’t, despite the fact that it’d felt pretty dramatic and spectacular to me. I’d just gotten publicly dumped and it sort of hurt. Why it hurt, I had no idea. He’d done to me what I’d planned to do to him, so what right did I have to feel anything but relief?
Just be glad it’s over.
The waiter walked over carrying two enormous platters of Mexican food, and I realized that not only had Nate dumped me, he’d stuck me with the bill, too. Always look on the bright side. Without Jess to feed, I wouldn’t have to cook for the next week. I’d just work my way through Nate’s jumbo carne asada entree.
“Can you wrap those up to go?” I asked the waiter. He cocked a brow, but wisely kept his mouth shut. I decided to give him a thirty percent tip, because someone should get something out of this date.
Then I took my overpriced takeout and swung by the grocery store, because I had ice cream to buy.
Ice cream and hair dye.
Two hours later I swirled in front of my bathroom mirror, a new woman.
Ruby Fusion.
I looked like Christina Hendricks on acid (okay, not quite as statuesque, and my boobs were smaller … but still very curvy!). The new hair was gorgeous. Crazy. Fun. I wondered if Reese would like it, and then decided I didn’t care, because I liked it.
That’s when it hit me.
For the first time in forever, I was doing something for myself.
It felt good.
The high lasted until about noon the next day, when I carefully sorted through my finances. Counting all my savings, the business emergency funds, and the secret vacation stash, I was still broke. Okay. So no new Miatas just yet. But if I got the contract for The Line, maybe I could revisit the idea in a year or two. Assuming Reese didn’t fire me.
Powerful motivation.
I’d just have to get that contract no matter what. So what if I had to sleep with him to do it … I’d just call it a bonus and roll with it.
Jessica got in touch right after I went to bed Tuesday night.
“Hey, Loni.”
“Hey there,” I responded, biting back the “So, I see your phone still works” comment hovering on my lips. Silence fell between us, all weird and uncomfortable.
“How are things with your mom?” I asked finally.
“Things are good, I guess. I mean, she isn’t here very much. She’s really busy with her friends and stuff, and she doesn’t like me to be around when her boyfriend comes home. I don’t have a car or anything, so I’ve just sort of been hanging out by the pool. They’ve got me in the guesthouse. There are a few others staying there, but I have my own room.”
“Well, I’m glad things are good,” I told her. “I want you to be happy.”
“I was wondering …”
“Yes?” “Do you think you could pack up some of my things and ship them down? I left all my clothes up there, and Mom has been loaning me shit, but I don’t feel quite right borrowing from her all the time.”
I glanced toward her bedroom door, wondering if I’d be a horrible person if I said I’d set all her things on fire. Yes. That would be horrible. Pity, because a small, hateful part of me wanted to hurt her.
But even with Ruby Fusion hair, I still had to be the adult.
“Sure, I can pack some things up—but not everything. That would cost a fortune to ship. If you want more, you can get a job and earn the money to pay for it. I’ll get some clothes for you, though.”
“And maybe some of my books and pictures?” she asked. “You know, like the scrapbook I made of the kids at the community center? I’m kind of missing them, especially since I didn’t get to say good-bye. I wanted to find somewhere else to volunteer, but Mom thought that was a bad idea.”
My heart softened a little. Amber was a Class A bitch, so staying with her had to be a punishment in and of itself. My Jessie girl had some hard lessons ahead of her.
“I’ll pack some things up and send them soon,” I told her firmly. “But it’s late and I need to sleep. I’ve got work in the morning.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Loni?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Wednesday morning I opened her bedroom door, midsized cardboard shipping box in hand. I’d come in here right after she ran away and picked up the worst of her mess from the tantrum, just so nobody would accidentally cut their feet on the broken glass. But beyond that I’d left everything untouched. Jess was a slob, and we’d come to an agreement years ago. She’d do her part to keep the rest of the house clean, and I’d stop bugging her about her bedroom.
The system had worked well for us.
Now I looked around, wondering where to begin. Most of her favorite things were strewn across the floor in dirty piles. I could either grab the things from her drawers (already clean) and pack them, or collect up what she really liked and give it a quick wash.
Well, she had said “thank you,” which was a big step up for Little Miss Entitlement.
I grabbed the dirty clothes, tossing them into the box like a makeshift laundry basket. I carried them into the kitchen, where a washer and dryer took up one corner. Then I started sorting through and checking the pockets.
That’s when I found the money.
A hundred-dollar bill, wrapped around a scrap of paper with a note on it.
Seven tonight, downtown. No bra, no panties.
What. The. Hell.
My hand trembled as the implications hit me. Jessica had some sort of secret boyfriend, the kind of man who gave her money. Enough money that she could afford to leave a hundred-dollar bill stashed in her pants.
Amber had boyfriends like that, too.
The thought made me sick, and I swayed, reaching out to clutch the counter. I stumbled into the living room, sitting down heavily on the couch, trying to think.
Mellie. She’d know what was going on.
The phone only rang once before she picked up.
“Hey, Loni,” she said, sounding pathetically eager to talk to me. I felt a twinge of guilt—I hadn’t given her much thought the past couple days, even though she’d spent two or three nights a week at my house over the last year.
“Hey, Mel. How are you?”
“Okay,” she replied. “I miss Jessica, though. I’ve tried calling her but she hasn’t answered. I guess she’s too busy doing cool things with her mom.”
Not so much, but I decided not to go there.
“Maybe. Hey, I was just going through some of her laundry and I found something strange. I thought I might ask you about it.”
“What?” Mellie asked, her voice cautious. I smelled a secret. Excellent. Now I just needed to get it out of her, which shouldn’t be too hard. Mellie never lied directly, only by omission.
“A note, along with a hundred-dollar bill. It’s from a man, making arrangements to get together with Jess downtown somewhere. Do you know of anyone she was seeing? Someone who would have a hundred bucks to spare?”
Mellie didn’t answer immediately, so I waited, letting the silence grow between us.
“I don’t know his name,” she said finally. “I mean, I know he’s older, but I don’t know any more than that. She said he was her sugar daddy. Said he took care of her.”
I sighed. “And you didn’t think that was relevant information to share with me when she went missing?”
“I didn’t want to get her in trouble,” Mellie replied, her voice miserable. “I knew how pissed you’d be, and I don’t think he had anything to do with her taking off. It’s not like he’s dangerous or anything—not like those bikers she hooked up with. She says he’s really good to her. And they didn’t start sleeping together until after she turned eighteen, at least not that I know of. She says he respects her.”
“Okay,” I said softly. I felt like I should press her for more information, but what was the point? God, this sucked. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Sorry,” Mellie whispered. “Hey, Loni?”
“Yes?”
“Can I come over to your place sometime? I sort of miss hanging out with you.”
“Sure, sweetie,” I told her, feeling my eyes start to water a little. “You’re always welcome here, okay?”
“Thanks,” she whispered. “You know how it is …”
“Yeah, baby, I know how it is. You’re safe here. Always. Just because Jessica left doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome.”
“Thanks, Loni.”
I hung up the phone and flopped back on the couch, wondering how I’d gotten to such a strange place in my life. I’d dumped my husband for Jess, and now Jess had dumped me for Amber. Then I dumped Nate.
I wouldn’t dump Mellie, I decided.
No matter what happened, she was a sweet kid and she needed all the support she could get. I wouldn’t fail her like I’d failed Amber and Jessica.
And yes, I know it was insane to think I failed them—you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving. Didn’t change how I felt.
The buzzer went off on the washer, reminding me that I had more clothes to push through. I needed to hit the grocery store for Reese, too. I’d go out to his place early, I decided. That way I wouldn’t have to see him, because despite my bold resolutions I wasn’t quite ready to confront him just yet.
I’d been through enough in the past twenty-four hours.
Reese’s motorcycle sat out in front of his house when I pulled up, along with his truck and a sporty little red convertible.
A Miata. My Miata. I seriously considered keying the car out of pure jealousy.
Make that jealousy and frustration, because not only had I failed to avoid Reese, he apparently had company. Best not to think about whoever might be driving that pretty little car, either, because I’d bet my morning ice cream it wasn’t one of his club brothers.
I sat in the driveway and pondered just turning my van around and leaving, then decided that would be pure cowardice. I’d run into him sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. It would be good for me to see him with another woman, I decided. I’d nearly slept with him the other night, and while I’d decided to break up with Nate, that didn’t automatically mean hooking up with Reese was a smart idea.
It could never be more than random sex anyway. Nothing underscores the temporary nature of a booty call like seeing your intended booty calling on someone else.
You’re here to work. What he does is his business.
I turned off my van, grabbed the groceries, and started toward the door. Balancing the bags gracelessly, I punched in the code and pushed through to find myself face-to-ass with the owner of the Miata.
She straddled Reese on the couch, her miniskirt pushed up around her waist, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination—my own personal porno, front and center. Holy. Shit. I couldn’t breathe. His gaze met mine over her head, and I managed to clear my throat. She froze, twisting around to see me.
Awkward.
“Thought you were coming later,” Reese drawled, wrapping his big hands around her waist and holding her steady. His eyes were cold and hostile, although a mocking smile graced his face. He was still angry. Fair enough. We hadn’t exactly ended things on a positive note back at my place. Miss Miata buried her head in his shoulder, obviously trying to hold back a fit of giggles. God, had he told her about me? Did they laugh together at how stupid I’d been, getting drunk and throwing myself at him?
Don’t panic. DON’T PANIC.
I panicked. I felt the grocery bags starting to slip, so I tightened my grip and forced myself to inhale slowly. Exhale.
Think of calm things. Oceans. Clean ovens. Don’t let him see how this hurts you.
Wait. Why should this hurt me? So I had the hots for him, but that didn’t mean I cared about Reese Hayes. Had I been celibate so long that I’d forgotten what mindless lust felt like? I’d kicked him out of my bed, not the other way around.
I coughed, and realized I had to take control of the situation. Break the tension. Make a joke.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I said, wondering if my voice sounded as shaky as it felt. “Do you want me to reschedule, or can you move to your bedroom? I generally frown on cleaning around people while they’re having sex. All sorts of potential OSHA violations.”
Hayes’s eyes widened and his smile shifted from mocking to genuine. He shook his head slowly.
“You know, I want to stay pissed at you, but you’re just too cute sometimes,” he said finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, London.”
I’d never met anyone like him, either, I thought somewhat hysterically. Maybe I’d led a sheltered life, but most of my friends liked to have sex in private. I decided now wasn’t the time to discuss our cultural differences, all things considered. I’d go right ahead and keep focusing on breathing, because somewhere deep inside it felt like I’d been stabbed in the gut, which wasn’t right on about a thousand different levels.
“Um, still here,” Miss Miata said, lifting a hand and waving it in front of his face. “Unless she’s joining us, I think we should relocate. I only get off on performing for appreciative audiences, and I think we’re scaring this one.”
“I’m not joining you,” I stuttered.
Her eyes swept up my figure.
“Too bad.”
That was my signal for full, unconditional retreat.
“I’ll just put away the food,” I said, walking quickly past them into the kitchen. I dropped the bags on the counter. Then I leaned forward and forced myself to inhale and exhale some more, counting to ten each time. What the hell was going on with me? So it was weird walking in on people having sex. Yes. Definitely weird. But not full meltdown weird.
Shit.
This was all about my stupid crush on Reese, which was apparently even stronger than I’d realized. I didn’t have the right to feel hurt or possessive, yet here I was, trying not to hyperventilate in his kitchen. Not me at all. Desperate times …
I opened a cabinet and pulled out a mug. Then I opened the freezer and grabbed some vodka. I poured myself a nice shot, drank it, then quickly disposed of the evidence. Cold fire slid down my throat, clarifying things.
So I had a problem—Reese was beautiful, I had a crush on him, and he was currently f*cking another woman in the living room. His living room. A place he had every right to use for sex or anything else he felt like using it for. Kind of shitty that I walked in on it, but I’d come out to his place early, too. Time to face some hard facts:
Reese slept with lots of women.
He wasn’t betraying me, and so far as he knew, I was in a relationship with another man.
I wanted to curl up into a ball and die.
Curling up in a ball and dying seemed a little extreme, so I’d just have to pull up my big girl panties and f*cking deal with this shit. First up—I had frozen food melting in the van, and it needed to be put away. Because I’m only human, I ducked out the back door to grab the rest of the bags, avoiding the spectacle out front. By the time I came back, they’d left the living room. More giggling and sex noises drifted out from his bedroom and I winced. Maybe I’d just go upstairs for a while. Vacuum. That should drown them out.
Forty minutes later there wasn’t a speck of dirt or dust anywhere to be found upstairs. This wasn’t a huge surprise, given how clean it was from the last time I’d been there and the fact that the rooms weren’t being used. There was no getting around my unfortunate reality—I had to go back downstairs.
My feet wouldn’t move, though.
I just couldn’t do it. Instead I sat down on the top step, leaning forward on my knees to think. This cleaning gig wasn’t going to work out after all. I couldn’t handle seeing him with another woman, because no matter how I colored my hair, I wasn’t sophisticated and modern enough for booty calls. I would just have to tell Reese I couldn’t clean for him and let it go. Preferably by text. I really didn’t need a new car or that sweet contract out at The Line.
Except …
Now that Jess had taken off, it really was the perfect time to start expanding my business. The strip club would be a hell of an account to do it with. I could just suck it up, right?
Yes. I’d be damned if I’d walk away from that much money. Does that sound mercenary?
I didn’t care.
So what if Reese Hayes was pretty and I wanted to have sex with him? I wanted a million dollars and a house on the lake, and that wouldn’t be happening any time soon, either. Reese had all kinds of women lined up to sleep with, ten a day if he wanted that many. He’d probably lost interest in me already, and I should be happy about it. Clarified things. Didn’t mean I shouldn’t do my best to get and keep the club accounts.
You have to separate business from pleasure if you want a Miata.
Exactly. That’s what I’d do. Pull my act together and—no, pull my shit together and send Jessica her clothing with a smile. I’d be a support to Mellie and be empowered and self-sufficient. I didn’t need a man, but if I wanted one I’d take him and use him and then pass him along without a second thought, because I’d become a sophisticated, modern woman if it killed me.
Sure.
And I would lose ten pounds and age backward, too.
Right after I learned to fly my invisible jet.
Thirty minutes later the roast was in the oven and I was setting out frozen rolls to rise. I’d had a second, strictly medicinal shot of vodka, and while I wasn’t exactly buzzed, I was feeling a little more balanced about things. Of course, dumping yellow food coloring in the back of the downstairs toilet tank and pouring vinegar in his milk helped restore that balance … I also loosened the lid on the salt shaker.
Why did I do these things?
Probably best not to examine that too closely.
Reese emerged from the back addition to lean against the door frame. He wore a pair of faded jeans and nothing else, his big, beefy arms crossing his chest with casual laziness. I refused to let my eyes linger on his muscles, although I did let myself check out his feet.
There’s nothing sexier than a big, tough man walking around barefoot. I’d always had a thing for it.
“Sorry about that earlier,” he said, although I could tell from his tone that he wasn’t sorry one little bit. “I had no idea you’d come out to the house so early. I thought I had a couple more hours.”
Wow, he sounded almost sincere.
“I was planning to get done before you got home from work,” I said, turning away from him to fuss with the rolls. “What are your hours?”
“Irregular,” he said. “I’m the boss, remember? I work when I’m needed or when I want to.”
I sensed him moving toward me, so I turned away from the rolls and headed over to the fridge to put some space between us. Pulling open the door I studied the interior, trying to figure out what I should do next. Sadly, the beer, ketchup, and jar of pickles facing me had no insights to offer.
Turning and looking at him wasn’t an option.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scratch him for screwing that other woman or jump his bones. Either way I’d have to scrub him down with bleach, just to be safe, because he was all covered in her cooties.
“Let’s put together a schedule,” I suggested, studying the expiration date on a container of yogurt as if my life depended on it. “So I won’t run into you here at the house.”
“Scared?” he asked, and his voice was right behind me. He reached around and shut the fridge, resting one hand on either side of my body, trapping me. Every instinct I had said I should create a diversion and run like hell, but I turned to face him instead.
I didn’t want to let him think he was right, no matter how hard that might be.
Professional. You are a professional and you don’t play games.
I offered a bland smile and focused on a cabinet handle across the room, exactly two inches above his broad right shoulder.
Perfect.
“I just don’t want to get in your way,” I said evenly. “I know things are awkward between us after the other night. But I want you to know how much I appreciate your support. It was a bad weekend for me. I’m fine now.”
He cocked his head and his lip curled in a sneer.
“Deputy Dick kiss it all better?”
“My personal relationships have nothing to do with my work here.”
“No, I guess they’re only relevant when you crawl all over me, rub your tits on my chest, and then kick me out the door after I take care of your drunk ass all night. You started it, sweetheart. I was just following through.”
I closed my eyes, praying I wasn’t flushing bright red.
“Let’s forget that happened, okay? I was emotional and had too much wine. I almost made a horrible mistake, and I’m sorry if I used you. But that doesn’t mean sleeping together would’ve been a good idea.”
“Sounds like a damned fine idea to me,” he whispered, leaning down and sniffing my neck. “I’d make it good for you.”
I caught a whiff of perfume on him.
“Miss Miata is still in the bedroom,” I said tightly. “Better back off or she’ll see you. Then you’ll be in trouble.”
He laughed without pulling back.
“Miss Miata?” he asked. “Now that’s a new name for her. At the clubhouse, we call her—”
“If you say something nasty, I’m going to kick you,” I snapped. “Is it really worth it?”
“Define ‘nasty.’ ”
“Anything less than complimentary about the woman you just had sex with,” I told him. “Because it sounded like you were going to insult her. Just remember, anything she did, you participated in. You’re equally guilty.”
He gave a low laugh.
“At the clubhouse we call her Sharon,” he said softly. “Which I’ve never considered an insult, especially given that she’s named after her grandmother. But you feel free to interpret it any way you like.”
I closed my eyes and counted to five.
“Just go away.”
“Pic, you know where my shoes are?” Sharon said. She walked into the kitchen and I expected him to pull away, to turn to her with an explanation. He stayed put.
“Think they’re in the living room, babe,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers through my hair, tugging my head just enough to force me to meet his eyes.
“Thanks,” Sharon said, passing by us to hunt for her footwear.
“Isn’t she pissed off that you’re talking to me instead of her?”
“Apparently not,” he said, shrugging. “Think she already got what she wanted.”
“Let me guess, this is where you tell me how many times you made her come?”
He smirked.
“No, although if you want details, I guess I could give you some,” he said. “I like how you think. Dirty. But what she wanted was cash. She’s a nice girl and she’s in a bit of trouble. I’m helping her out, so she decided to help me out.”
That took me off guard.
“Is she a … prostitute?”
He shook his head. “She’s a person. Try not to be so judgmental—it’s not nice to objectify women like that, London. Don’t you know better?”
His tone mocked me, and I snorted.
“Let me go.”
“Give me a kiss.”
“We already covered this,” I said, feeling my chest tighten because I wanted him to touch me. How did he do that? Here he was trying to kiss me right after having sex with another woman, and for some reason I hadn’t kicked him in the balls yet. What was up with that? Probably the vodka, I decided. Definitely the vodka. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Oh yes, you’re still seeing the good deputy,” he said, his voice a low growl. “You sleep with him yet?”
“I’m not, actually. Seeing him. I broke up with him yesterday.”
That caught him off guard, and he pulled back, studying my face.
“No shit?”
“No shit,” I said firmly, taking advantage of his surprise to slip under his arm and flee across the kitchen. “I’ve got a roast in the oven. When the timer goes off, you can take it out and throw in the rolls for fifteen minutes. There’s a salad waiting for you in the fridge and I’ll invoice you for the groceries. Good-bye.”
“You really think I’ll let you drop a bomb like that and just walk out of here?”
I shrugged. It’d been worth a shot. “I have work to do, Reese. I broke up with Nate because it wasn’t right between us. That doesn’t mean it’s right with you—if anything, it just means I need to be on my own for a while. Jessica hasn’t even been gone a week. That’s a lot of change and I don’t feel like talking about it with you or anyone else.”
“This isn’t over.”
I laughed.
“It never started,” I told him bluntly. “I’m not like you. I can’t just have casual sex.”
Sure you can, the slutty side of my brain whispered. Just try it!
Miss Miata hasn’t even left the house yet, I reminded my brain firmly. Don’t be such a slut!
“How do you know you can’t have casual sex?” he asked. “It’s fun. When’s the last time you tried it?”
I glared at him.
“Seriously, when was it?”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am,” he told me. Sharon came back inside and smiled at me, wrapping her arm around Hayes’s waist. She whispered something in his ear, then gave him a lingering kiss before looking at me.
“Nice to meet you,” she told me with a genuine smile. “Maybe I’ll see you out at the clubhouse sometime?”
I shrugged, because saying I’d rather eat broken glass didn’t feel quite appropriate. How was she so friendly under the circumstances? It seemed wrong.
Stop being so judgmental … Reese’s words echoed in my head.
“Okay, I’m out of here,” she said. “Oh, and Pic? I think there’s something wrong with the toilet, just a heads up. That roast smells fantastic, London. I’m watching my carbs, so good thing those rolls aren’t baking yet!”
With that she gave me a perky finger wave and left, humming brightly.
Of course she was watching her carbs. Girls like her always were.
“That was just weird,” I muttered.
“That was someone who’s comfortable in her sexuality and not worried about overthinking things. You should try it. It’s more fun than pouting. Less work, too.”
“I really have to go now.”
“I’ll see you on Thursday,” he said. “Let me know what time to expect you and I’ll try to have clothes on … Unless you change your mind?”
I didn’t bother responding as I marched out of the kitchen, and his laugh followed me through the door.
Someday I’d be the one making him uncomfortable, I decided. I wasn’t sure when or how, but I looked forward to it. Seemed only fair, all things considered.