She followed the old lady into her quaint little house not quite sure what to make of this turn of events. The house was pretty much what you would expect the house of an elderly woman living alone to look like. There were pictures on the walls and every other surface in the front room, most of them of a young man in an army uniform from about the early forties. She was pretty sure it was the late Mr. Thompson who had passed a few years earlier. There were others of younger people as well, the children and grandchildren most likely. There was bric-a-brac with knickknacks, doilies on everything and crocheted afghans thrown over the backs of chairs. It was homey and nice and made her miss her gran who'd been gone for eight years now. The memory of the old woman who'd been so good to her brought fresh tears to her eyes. She was glad her gran hadn't been around to see the mess she'd made of things though, at least that was one thing she could be grateful for. That her grandparents
Back at the little apartment she opened the windows to let in some air. There was no air conditioning and she wouldn't have used it if there were one, because she couldn't really afford to waste money on the electric bill. She'd barely made it out of the divorce with a few thousand dollars, money she'd squirrelled away each month to plan for a trip. Money, Paul knew nothing about or she was sure he'd have taken that as well. Every time she thought of the injustice of it, she got really sad or really mad. The fact that someone who had once proclaimed undying love for her could do such a horrible thing to her left her cold and afraid. The world truly was a scary place. She had a sudden flash of Kyle and the way he'd looked down at her. She wondered what kind of man he was. She knew better than to judge a book by its cover, look at what the boy next door had done to her life. But there had to be some kind of story there, what with all the tats and that bike. She actually found
"Ms. Lucille was worried about you so she asked me to run this over." He didn't wait for an invite just walked right in and placed the bag he was carrying on the table next to the computer. "Come on in." She said facetiously, which he ignored. "Don't mind if I do." He started reading what she'd written until she rushed across the room and folded the laptop closed. "Hey." Her face was ten shades of red and she avoided making eye contact. "Pretty steamy. I'm under strict orders to make sure you eat so let's go." Thank heaven he didn't embarrass her by mentioning what he'd read. She well remembered the last words she'd tapped out on the screen. Crud! "I'm not hungry right now, I was just getting into the groove of things." "I can see that." He smirked at her and she could've kicked her own ass for opening up that door. He took pity on her though and dropped it. "You been at this thing since this morning?" "Yes so?" "Eat." He took the containers out of the bag an
"We'll see." It took her a minute to remember what it was they were talking about and when she did she ducked her head and went back to eating. The look he gave her left no mistake as to his meaning but she'd been down that slippery slope once already and had no intention on going for another ride. Especially not with someone that looked like him; he was the poster boy for Player's R'Us. No way no how! Besides, they'd only just met a few hours ago. The man was crazy. "So tell me about yourself Kerryanne." "What do you want to know? There isn't much to tell I'm afraid." "How old are you?" "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's impolite to ask a lady her age?" "Bullshit." His answer startled her for a second. She wasn't accustomed to anyone speaking to her in such a blunt manner. She shouldn't be surprised though. After all, he wasn't like anyone she'd ever known before with his million tattoos and bad boy looks. Not to mention he rode a bike. He was probably some gang m
She was just putting her toothbrush back in its place in the rusty slot by the sink when there was a knock at the door. "Coming." She rinsed her mouth and dried her hands on the way to the door. She'd gone from no visitors to Grand Central Station overnight. She was feeling no pain this morning. Having jumped up from the table sometime after nodding off and dragging tail into the bedroom, she was sure she'd sleep until noon. But, as soon as she felt the sun across her face as it beat through the flimsy curtains at the window, she'd rolled out of bed feeling refreshed and ready to face the world. It was, to say the least, a welcomed change. She opened the door, not sure what she was gonna find, but of course, her first thought was of Paul. Only this time, there was a certain silver-eyed hottie playing around at the edges of her mind as well. Her heart knocked against her ribs at the sight of him. Her night had been filled with dreams of him, dreams that made her blush in the li
He sensed her stare and looked over his shoulder at her. She could imagine what she looked like standing there; stealing peeks at his ass while he wasn't looking. If she could use her limbs, she would've checked her chin for drool. He smirked and turned back to his unpacking, and she swallowed hard before looking hurriedly away again with her face on fire. He seemed awfully comfortable in his own skin, and she wished she had some of his confidence. Not that she ever had any. Even before the divorce, she'd been a reticent being. Choosing to stay in the background of life. Maybe that's why she'd been such a doormat for that asshole and his viper. She couldn't imagine anyone doing that to the seemingly all-powerful man in her kitchen. Even though she didn't know him that well, he had this way about him that just screamed, 'Not me, not here, not now.' She could sure use some of that chutzpah. She waited for the coffee to finish dripping and pretended she wasn't still checking out
Ms. Lucille had told him what was going on with her, about the ex-husband and the best friend. Knowing females, he figured she was still picking up the pieces and carrying a serious hate for anything with a dick. He didn't have the time or the patience for that shit. He liked the women he bedded to have a little more mileage and a lot less baggage. That usually meant they knew the score. Still, if he could bring her around to his way of thinking, he figured he could give sweet little Kerryanne the ride of her life. His dick went right along with his thoughts, and he had to adjust his package, which had already been getting jumpy since he got his first gander at her incredible tits under the flimsy top she wore. She seemed a bit gun-shy, so he figured he was going to have to treat her with kid gloves for now. He didn't intend to let that shit drag on forever, though - nothing he hated more than wasted time. The hard part was over; his interest had been engaged. So yeah, he was tak
Dammit, did the outline behind his zipper get bigger? Mercy! She all but whimpered in her throat. "Let's eat." She almost jumped out of her skin, thinking he'd caught her at it again. She'd be mortified if she were caught staring at his junk again twice in as many days. She swallowed and tried to get the sudden dryness from her mouth with not much luck. In one day, make it two; he'd turned her life upside down. Things she'd never even thought about before were now, front and center in her mind. It would be so much easier if she could really blame it on her writing, but she knew better. Her eyes landed on his zipper again when he turned to leave the room with plates in hand, and she became flushed. What the hell has gotten into you, Kerryanne? For crap sake, get a grip. She hadn't looked at anything male since high school, not even with innocent appreciation, always thinking it was somehow disrespectful to the boy she'd married. She'd been so stupidly comfortable in the life s