“You left your panties, so we get the picture,” Biba interrupts.
“I don’t get the picture,” Demi exclaims.
This time Mrs. Gretchen smiles smugly. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one who got lucky last night.”
I shut my gaping jaw with difficulty. Did a ninety-year-old woman just admit to gettinglucky? Mrs. Gretchen is agoddess.
“You said he was mean to you,” Biba prompts after we’ve suitably digested Mrs. Gretchen’s words. “When did that happen?”
“About an hour ago. I left when he was asleep—”
Demi clicks her disapproval. “There’s your first problem.”
“I had to let Rusty out!”
“You could have told Boen that. I would never leave Ethan’s without saying goodbye. And besides, he likes to... you know... in the mornings.” Her cheeks flush prettily.
“Are you suggesting this neighbour—” Biba looks expectantly at me.
“Boen,” I supply.
“Boen, thank you. Usually I have a chance to learn a person’s name before you self-destruct around him.”
“I’m not about to self-destruct.”
“You called, wanting my help to break into his place to get your unders back. Pretty self-destructing, if you ask me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to break in his house,” Mrs. Gretchen says quickly. “I have a key. Dean always gave me one, and I know Boen didn’t change his locks when he moved in. I can let you in. But I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Thank you,” Biba says to her. “It’s not. Put your big girl panties on, Rach, and go knock on his door. Or were you suggesting he’s bitter that he didn’t get a second round this morning? If that’s the case, steer clear of him.”
I don’t mention that this morning would have been the third time with Boen. “So, I left without telling him,” I continue, ignoring the whole exchange. “And just as I was leaving, I heard a thump.”
“And that’s when you came over,” Mrs. Gretchen says.
“Actually… no,” I hedge. “I went home and let Rusty out. And then I thought maybe the noise was you falling, and then I went back over to Boen’s to wake him up. But he was awake and not happy. Before I could explain, we went straight to check on Mrs. Gretchen.” I glance warily at Mrs. Gretchen.
“I had a friend sleep over last night and he fell getting out of bed this morning,” she supplies. “That’s the thump Rachel heard.”
“Out of bed,” Demi echoes. “Your friend.”
“Out of my bed,” Mrs. Gretchen says proudly.
“Well, then.” Biba has a smug smile on her face. “Go, Mrs. G.”
“Thank you, I will. I intend to head over to check on Mr. Cullen later today.”
“So. Boen and I met Dawson coming for a visit,” I begin again. “Mrs. Gretchen’s grandson.”
“Is that the grandson you dated?” Demi wants to know.
“One time,” I confirm. “And we went in and helped Mr. Cullen, and Mrs. Gretchen had to make breakfast for him so Boen and I left. And then outside,” I huff to a finish, “he told me last night didn’t mean anything.”
“Did it mean anything to you?” Demi asks softly.
I bite my lip as I consider my response. “I think it could have,” I say finally. “I don’t know him very well, but last night it felt like I did. He told me things that I don’t know if he’s ever told anyone else. And I… I want to know more.”
“So, yes,” Biba says. “It meant something. It wasn’t just sex.”
