He bestows me with another dazzling smile. “Sure you do, Sweet Peach.”
God, please kill me now.
“Aren’t you going to invite meinside?” Beau asks, straightening from his perch and ambling down the porch steps. “Or you’re welcome tocomein my house if you prefer,” he offers, gesturing towards the front door.
I leap into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut, but drop my keys between the seat and the center console.
“Shit.” I burrow my hand between the narrow space, frantically feeling around the floorboard.Got it!I hook the key ring over my pinky finger, then quickly start the engine. I yelp when a loud knock on the driver’s side window startles me.
“Very unneighborly behavior, Sweet Peach,” Beau admonishes me.
I throw the gearshift into reverse and floor it, zooming through the residential neighborhood under screeching tires. Beau probably thinks I’m a perverted psycho. Welp, I’ll have to move now, though that means breaking my lease. I just have to figure out a way to avoid him until then. What the heck am I going to tell my landlord? Gene won’t be happy. Maybe I can still salvage this somehow. Talk to Beau and explain… what exactly? I haven’t the slightest idea. God, I hope he doesn’t tell anyone. The last thing I need is the townspeople gossiping behind my back. If my supervisor got wind of this little mishap… I shudder to think. No parent is going to want a nymphomaniac teaching their child.
“You put yourself in quite a pickle.” I sigh, parking across the street from the studio. I grab my things and head into the building. “Hey, Grace,” I greet the receptionist. “How are you doing this morning?”
“I can’t complain,” the older woman replies with a friendly smile. “I’m alive and healthy.”
“And that’s what counts,” I reply.
“Touché.” Grace nods. “Have a great class.”
“Thank you.”
I hurry down the hall, passing several packed rooms. Move Your Body, LLC is a booming small wellness business, offering various cardio classes. Pedro shoots me a look of disapproval when I tiptoe into the room.
Sorry,I mouth to him and store my purse in one of the empty cubbies along the back wall.
He’s a phenomenal yoga instructor, but obsessively fastidious. I’m for sure going to get a lecture on the importance of promptness and self-discipline after class. I unroll my yoga mat on the hardwood floor, then fold into the bow position, mimicking my classmates.
I replay the encounter with Beau over in my mind, recalling a detail that previously escaped my notice. I’m almost certain my sex-on-a-stick neighbor was throwing me sexual innuendos. I could be wrong… No, the way he saidinsideandcome. That man was definitely projecting come-hither vibes. I’ll reexamine this tidbit more thoroughly a bit later.
“I’m divorcing Odette,” Carla suddenly announces, spreading strawberry jam onto her wheat toast. “I met with a lawyer yesterday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, my caramel latte forgotten.
Odette hung out with us a few times and she seems nice enough, but you never know what goes on behind closed doors.
“Knew that was coming,” Wren mumbles under her breath. “I hate to say I told you so, but—”
“Shut it,” Carla hisses.
“About damn time!” Pete shouts, dramatically waving his bagel around.
The café manager marches over to our table, glaring at him. “This is a family friendly establishment. Watch your language or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Please excuse my faux pas, ma’am,” Pete apologizes, batting his jade-green eyes. “It won’t happen again.”
“You better see that it doesn’t.” She huffs, then storms back behind the corner.
“She was totally about to kick your ass,” Carla jokes, and we all burst out laughing.
“So, what prompted your decision to officially call it quits?” Wren asks, gathering her passion twists into a high ponytail. The trendy hairstyle suits her. It’s been the same boring press and curl for me for the past several years, but a change is in order.
“I’m sick of her bullshit,” Carla retorts angrily. “Nothing I ever do is good enough for her. She constantly belittles me because she earns more money. She even had the nerve to order me to find another job. Can you believe that?” she rages, her face flaming bright red. “I like being a bartender and besides, she never complained about it before we got married, but all of a sudden, it’s a fucking problem.”
“Wait a minute.” Pete holds up a hand. “Didn’t you meet her at work?”
“Yep!” Carla exclaims. “She sashayed her prissy ass right up to the bar and ordered a cosmopolitan, then spent the entire night eye fucking me.”
