“Need any help taking your bags inside.” He gestures between my hands. “We could allhelpyou.”
His implication is blatantly clear.
“No!” I exclaim and barrel down the walkway.
One of the plastic bags tears and groceries scatter on the ground. I scramble after the items and stow them in other bags, then sprint to my front door. A whistle rends the air. I glance back, nerves stretched taut. Shepard stands in my yard, holding out a can of cat food.
“Missed one,” he says, flashing a crocodile smile at me. “You have to make sure yourpussyeats. I’m pretty sure she’s famished.”
I unlock the door with a shaky hand and race into the small entryway. I quickly flick the top and bottom lock in place, then melt to the floor. Jesus, they’re fucking relentless. Truth be told, my resistance is waning already. Lulu pads from the kitchen, greeting me with a meow serenade.
“Hey, girl.” I settle her onto my lap and kiss her furry head. “I hope your day is going better than mine.”
What am I going to do about my roughneck neighbors?
I sit in my car, too tired and sore to move. It’s nearly six in the morning and I’m just getting my ass home. Carla insisted on staying at the bar until last call, then we went to breakfast and stuffed our guts with pancakes. I was supposed to take a nap before heading out for the evening, but three sexy men occupied my thoughts. I had a blast, though. We did karaoke, played pool, and met some really cool people. Carla was having way too much fun to focus on her one-night stand quest, but she did exchange numbers with a hot brunette. She drank to her heart’s content and barely got tipsy as usual. She must have a steel liver. I’m willing to bet my last dollar that she could drink anyone under the table. Wren and I are lightweights in comparison, but we ordered a few drinks. Margaritas are my personal favorite, apple in particular. We were celebrating our friend’s escape from matrimonial tyranny after all—Carla’s words, not mine.
I yawn, rubbing my gritty eyes. Shower first and then straight to bed. I’m looking forward to sleeping the day away. I force myself out of the car and hobble into the house. These stilettos are hell on my pinky toes. I kick those inhuman contraptions off and fling my purse onto the sofa before heading to the kitchen to feed my wayward cat, who follows right on my heels. Lulu gingerly slides her springy body along my leg, meowing her hunger pains.
“Stop being dramatic,” I admonish, filling her bowl. “I gave you dinneranda snack before leaving.”
The doorbell rings followed by a resounding knock.
“Who could that be this early in the morning?”
There’s another resounding knock before the last word leaves my lips. Maybe someone needs help. I hurry into the living room and peer through the peephole. My heart stutters in my chest.Beau. Why is he knocking on my freaking door at six in the morning? Actually, I don’t want to know.
“Go away!”
“Do you have some sugar to spare?” Beau asks.
“What?” I respond flabbergasted.
Am I hearing him correctly? Did he just ask for sugar? He must be off his meds.
“Can’t drink my morning coffee without the white stuff,” he offers in explanation. “I didn’t realize we were out.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You and your family members accosted me yesterday and now you’re at my door, asking for sugar at six in the morning!” My voice grows louder with each word. “Get away from my goddamn door!”
“We were out of line,” he admits. “Please accept my apology. We’ll be perfect gentlemen moving forward.”
My anger instantly dissipates. He’s extending an olive branch. I’d be stupid not to accept it. After all, I was in the wrong for watching him.
I crack the door open. “Where’s your cup?” I ask, nodding at his empty hands. “Unless you want me to pour the sugar into your pockets.”
He smiles at me. “Forgot to bring one.”
“I have one you can borrow.” I tentatively return his smile. “Wait here.”
I amble back into the kitchen and pluck the sugar out of the cabinet, then place it onto the counter. I scream, suddenly grabbed from behind.
“The sugar I want is between your thighs,” Beau rasps, roughly lifting my dress and barreling a hand into my thong. “So soft and warm,” he groans, sliding his fingers through my slit.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Giving you what you’re too afraid to ask for,” he whispers into my ear.
“You have to stop,” I pant, widening my stance. “I don’t want this.”
