She looked into his smiling face and wondered what he was up to. If she wasn’t careful, he would take everything and leave her with nothing but that hairless dog.
Chapter Seventeen
“Did you want your latte skinny or mocha?”
Georgeanne asked Mae as she packed the metal filter with espresso.
“Skinny,” Mae answered without taking her attention from Pongo, who lay curled up crunching on a doggie biscuit. “Damn, that’s pathetic. My cat is bigger than your dog. Bootsie could kick his butt.”
“Lexie,” Georgeanne called out, “Mae is saying bad things about Pongo again.”
Lexie walked into the kitchen, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her raincoat. “Don’t say bad things about my dog.” She scowled and grabbed her backpack from the table. “He’s sensitive.” She dropped down on her knees and pushed her face next to the dog’s. “I have to go to school now, I’ll see you later.” The puppy stopped eating his biscuit long enough to lick Lexie’s mouth.
“Hey now, I’ve told you about that,” Georgeanne scolded as she took a carton of skim milk from the refrigerator. “He has bad habits.”
Lexie shrugged and stood. “I don’t care. I love him.”
“Well, I care. Now, you better get over to Amy’s or you’ll miss your ride.”
Lexie puckered her lips for a kiss good-bye.
Georgeanne shook her head and walked Lexie to the front door. “I don’t kiss girls who kiss dawgs who lick themselves.” From the entrance she watched Lexie cross the street, then she turned back to the kitchen. “She’s absolutely nuts about that puppy,” she told Mae as she headed toward the espresso machine. “She’s had him five days, and he’s taken over our lives. You should see the little denim vest she’s made for him.”
“I have something to tell you,” Mae blurted quickly.
Georgeanne looked over her shoulder at her friend. She’d suspected something was up with Mae. She usually didn’t come by so early for coffee, and she’d been acting a little distant for the past few days. “What is it?”
“I love Hugh.”
Georgeanne smiled and filled the espresso machine with two cups of water. “I love you, too.”
“No.” Mae shook her head. “You don’t understand. I love Hugh, the goalie.”
“What?” Her hands stilled and her brows lowered. “John’s friend?”
“Yes.”
Georgeanne set down the glass carafe but forgot to turn on the machine. “I thought you hated him.”
“I did, but I don’t now.”
“What happened?”
Mae looked as perplexed as Georgeanne felt. “I don’t know! He took me home from a club last Friday night, and he never left.”
“He’s been living with you for the past six days?” Georgeanne walked over to the kitchen table. She had to sit down.
“Well, for the past six nights mostly.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, but I understand how you might think so. I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was telling him that he couldn’t come into my house, and then before I really realized what had happened, we were both naked and fighting over who got to be on top. He won and I fell in love with him.”
Georgeanne was numb with shock. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He was on top.”
“I didn’t mean that!” If there was one thing that Georgeanne wished she could change about her relationship with Mae, it was Mae’s tendency to share details Georgeanne didn’t care to know. “Are you sure you’re in love with him?”