even want to know what she told you.”
Christy knew Simms was blushing even though she couldn’t see his face.
Yeah, the old biddy told him about the panties.
“Well, I’m satisfied. As long as you clarify one more thing with me.” Simms words came across short and clipped. Christy braced herself.
“Sure. What?”
“Did you enjoy the rest of the afternoon?” He chuckled again.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She hung up.
Total truth, Christy couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle.
The hair at the back of her neck and all the way down her spine tickled deliciously where he had kissed her, where she needed him to kiss her now. She stood at a crossroads between spending energy trying to bury her feelings for him and…what?
Oh. My. God. Am I actually thinking about running after him?
Something she’d never done. She wasn’t going to beg. Besides, he’d made it clear. For her sake, he would say no.
He’d walked right back into her life with those damned red signs and the flowers and had made a nest in her heart. And then something had made him stop. Something Christy knew she didn’t cause.
What?
Maybe if she could find him, they could talk it over. Take it slow. She could tell him she didn’t expect a lifetime, just a casual friendship. A little relationship, not a big one. A friendship with benefits.
How do I do this? Where do I find him? He knew how to reach her, but she had no clue how to find him. She couldn’t just hang around a bunch of bars, hoping for him to show up.
Could she have offended him in some way? Had he misunderstoodd her? She just couldn’t let it go. She didn’t do “wait” very well. Wait until he decided to waltz back into her life?
Never! But if she didn’t talk to him perhaps he would ship out, or worse, find someone else.
No.
She’d have to go back to that street Armando lived on. Back to the page of the Thomas Bros. guide she had already mentally ripped out of her book.
Though she was nervous, she had to go back to Armando’s house to search for some evidence where Kyle was staying.
Christy’s red Honda puttered down the tree-lined street of Armando’s neighborhood. The sun hung low, on its way to retiring. She drove by the house quickly at first, making sure there wasn’t a car in the driveway. A vacant brown beat-up Buick was parked down the street two doors away. Other than that, the neighborhood seemed empty. A jet streaked across the sky and sent a rumble through the air.
Fly boy.
Christy pulled into the driveway in case she needed to make a quick exit. The front door to the house was locked. As she walked around the side, trying the wood sash windows, she heard something inside clatter to the floor. She listened through a window that had closed drapes but heard no other noise.
She continued along the side of the house to a wooden gate leading to the rear yard. She pulled a wire latch, and a shallow garden oasis with a lap pool came into view. Everything was neatly maintained, although the grass looked a little long. A few dozen leaves floated in the turquoise water, out of place.
A pair of concrete steps on the back porch led her to the rear sliding glass door, and, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She slid it open without making a sound.
As soon as she stepped into the large open kitchen, she knew she’d made a mistake, but her curiosity had been piqued. The house had been ransacked. Things had been tossed everywhere, a chair left upended, cabinet doors flung open, and several dishes lay smashed across the kitchen floor.
She turned and went down the hallway leading to the now-infamous rear bedroom. Inside the room she found all the sheets had been ripped from the mattress and tossed about. The mattress top was sliced open. Clothes from Armando’s closet were strewn haphazardly all over the place.
All of a sudden, she heard the front door open and slam shut, then heard footsteps running outside. Through the living room window she
Christy knew Simms was blushing even though she couldn’t see his face.
Yeah, the old biddy told him about the panties.
“Well, I’m satisfied. As long as you clarify one more thing with me.” Simms words came across short and clipped. Christy braced herself.
“Sure. What?”
“Did you enjoy the rest of the afternoon?” He chuckled again.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” She hung up.
Total truth, Christy couldn’t stop thinking about Kyle.
The hair at the back of her neck and all the way down her spine tickled deliciously where he had kissed her, where she needed him to kiss her now. She stood at a crossroads between spending energy trying to bury her feelings for him and…what?
Oh. My. God. Am I actually thinking about running after him?
Something she’d never done. She wasn’t going to beg. Besides, he’d made it clear. For her sake, he would say no.
He’d walked right back into her life with those damned red signs and the flowers and had made a nest in her heart. And then something had made him stop. Something Christy knew she didn’t cause.
What?
Maybe if she could find him, they could talk it over. Take it slow. She could tell him she didn’t expect a lifetime, just a casual friendship. A little relationship, not a big one. A friendship with benefits.
How do I do this? Where do I find him? He knew how to reach her, but she had no clue how to find him. She couldn’t just hang around a bunch of bars, hoping for him to show up.
Could she have offended him in some way? Had he misunderstoodd her? She just couldn’t let it go. She didn’t do “wait” very well. Wait until he decided to waltz back into her life?
Never! But if she didn’t talk to him perhaps he would ship out, or worse, find someone else.
No.
She’d have to go back to that street Armando lived on. Back to the page of the Thomas Bros. guide she had already mentally ripped out of her book.
Though she was nervous, she had to go back to Armando’s house to search for some evidence where Kyle was staying.
Christy’s red Honda puttered down the tree-lined street of Armando’s neighborhood. The sun hung low, on its way to retiring. She drove by the house quickly at first, making sure there wasn’t a car in the driveway. A vacant brown beat-up Buick was parked down the street two doors away. Other than that, the neighborhood seemed empty. A jet streaked across the sky and sent a rumble through the air.
Fly boy.
Christy pulled into the driveway in case she needed to make a quick exit. The front door to the house was locked. As she walked around the side, trying the wood sash windows, she heard something inside clatter to the floor. She listened through a window that had closed drapes but heard no other noise.
She continued along the side of the house to a wooden gate leading to the rear yard. She pulled a wire latch, and a shallow garden oasis with a lap pool came into view. Everything was neatly maintained, although the grass looked a little long. A few dozen leaves floated in the turquoise water, out of place.
A pair of concrete steps on the back porch led her to the rear sliding glass door, and, to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She slid it open without making a sound.
As soon as she stepped into the large open kitchen, she knew she’d made a mistake, but her curiosity had been piqued. The house had been ransacked. Things had been tossed everywhere, a chair left upended, cabinet doors flung open, and several dishes lay smashed across the kitchen floor.
She turned and went down the hallway leading to the now-infamous rear bedroom. Inside the room she found all the sheets had been ripped from the mattress and tossed about. The mattress top was sliced open. Clothes from Armando’s closet were strewn haphazardly all over the place.
All of a sudden, she heard the front door open and slam shut, then heard footsteps running outside. Through the living room window she
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