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“I can’t believe you had sex with him,” Naomi stuttered. “Don’t you have any shame?”
I turned my glare on her. “And if PD asked you right now if you would ride his kinky cock, you wouldn’t?”
Naomi had the decency to blush.
“I told you that in confidence,” her blush intensifying.
“And what I can’t believe is that you’ve gone so far as to enroll in school for a job that makes you want to throw up just so you could see the kinky son of a bitch,” I countered. “But, here I am, supporting you the whole way. And I don’t say a word unless you ask me to analyze something.”
Naomi giggled then, turning her face into the cushions to hide her embarrassment.
“Last shift was terrible, too,” she admitted. “It was my first shift back since the concussion, and PD watched me the whole time. He was terrified that I would get run over or something, I guess, because he never took his eyes off me.”
“Or, maybe, he finally noticed you,” I hoped, my eyes going to the road as I watched yet another truck pull into Drew’s driveway.
This time a man didn’t step out, but a woman.
“Shit,” I whispered softly. “Do you think that’s the ex-wife?”
Naomi and I watched as the woman got out of the car and stared at it for a long time before she turned in a huff. She marched up the front porch steps, purpose in her stride, as she hastily made her way to the door.
She stopped long enough to pound on the door with one dainty fist before she turned around and surveyed the area.
Her eyes scanned the houses in the neighborhood and stopped on my house.
She narrowed her eyes, then started stomping down the steps once again and heading straight for my house.
“Oh, shit,” Naomi scrambled. “Do you think she’s coming over here?”
“She can’t see us, can she?” I asked, looking behind me at the black house then back forward at the woman marching towards us.
“No,” Naomi denied. “But why is she coming over here?”
I studied the woman.
She was cute. She looked almost like me, actually.
I wasn’t that cute, though. Not like the woman hurrying toward me.
She had brown hair that stopped about mid back, blue eyes, and she was around my height as well. If someone saw the two of us together, I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked if we were sisters because we looked so similar.
Her sense of style was much better than mine, too.
Where I wore jeans (the same ones I’d had since college, ten years ago) she wore something much nicer. She was wearing black slacks, knee high boots, and a flowy red shirt that made her look like she was going to a party and wanting to impress.
When she hit my yard I really started to freak.
“Maybe she’ll slip,” Naomi said hopefully.
The woman didn’t slip.
In fact, her badass boots found traction in the snow, making it almost elegant to watch as she hurried up the steep hill to my front door.
“The least she could’ve done was use my steps,” I muttered as she walked beside the walk, marring the beautiful blanket of snow I had in my yard with her stupid boot prints.
She made it to the door and knocked, causing both of us to freeze.
She waited for thirty seconds before she knocked again, this time with her fist.
