‘I was talking about you. Say hot neighbour dude finds you wandering around his garden tonight? A damsel in distress with her pussy in need of rescuing.’
I groan as though in pain. And not from my scraped knees.
‘What? It’s a valid concept and one worthy of investigating.’
‘The only pussy I’m interested in rescuing is this evening’s escaped feline. Besides, I’m more likely to need time off to recover from a concussion and a couple of cracked ribs.’ And cracking is exactly what my knee does as I straighten from looking under the very modern table of his patio furniture setting. ‘Because if he finds me wandering around his garden in the dark, I expect he’ll take me for a thief and tackle me to the ground.’ And the Coke can in his shorts isn’t the only large part of him; the man has to be six foot at least. And built. ‘Anyway, for all we know, he might be butt ugly or have heinous facial hair.’ Neither of us has seen his face, which has either been shaded by the maple tree that towers over his lawn, or his back was facing us.I didn’t know a back could be so muscly.
‘Personally, I like a bit of stubble.’
‘What’s your stance on porn star moustaches or bushy ones like Yosemite Sam?’
‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’
Ha! Most boys her age haven’t gotten past the bum-fluff beard stage.
‘Mir, he was doing yoga in the garden. Think of how bendy he’ll be.’
‘This is such an inappropriate conversation to be having,’ I mutter, stabbing the toe of my shoe in the ornamental grass next.
‘Yeah, but a fun one. What do you care if he’s ugly or fuzzy faced as long as he makes your eyes cross in ecstasy?’
‘Just because he’s well-endowed doesn’t mean he’ll be an expert. It sometimes makes them lazy. So I’ve heard.’
‘Not Brent.’
‘Iwillhang up,’ I threaten.
‘Un-wedge your knickers,’ she says on a cackle. ‘I’d totally risk a concussion for a roll across the lawn with him.’
‘What has gotten into you?’ Heather is ordinarily very sweet if not a tiny bit socially awkward sometimes.
‘What can I say? Cocktails and sexting bring naughty Heather out to play.’
‘Well, feel free to bring back my sweet cousin Heather-feather anytime you’d like,’ I reply, using her childhood nickname.
‘I’ve heard Brent does this thing with a feather that—’
‘Lalalalalaa!’
‘Maybe hot neighbour dude could bring out naughty Miranda?’
‘Maybe you can ask him when you visit next.’
‘Really?’
‘No, not really,’ I answer, sliding my hand low into a wall of tall bamboo, silently praying there’s nothing hiding in there—other than the cat, that is—as I squint into the thick, dark greenery. ‘For one, I don’t want to become just another woman traipsing in and out of his front door. God knows he doesn’t need one more. And two—’
‘You’re a big scaredy-cat?’
‘I am not. I’m more like an average-sized one.’
Heather laughs, then adds, ‘And for two, you’re not into the Adonis type because you like your men blond and slightly pudgy.’
‘What?’
‘Come on. Cameron was hardly a catch.’
‘He isn’t pudgy! He’s just . . . large. Solid and manly.’ As I make my way over to a huge stainless-steel barbecue which shines eerily in the moonlight, I wonder briefly if I’m defending him or my taste in men.My tastes, definitely.‘Here, pussy, pussy,’ I call, peering into the darkness.
