Her jeans are cute. Tight.
My eyes stray to her feet. They’re bare, and her toes are painted hot pink.
Huh.
Cuter than a button, those toes.
I ‘huh’ again, forcing my gaze to the backyard. “Thinkin’ bout hangin’ that hammock between those trees—or should I hang it on the deck so it’s closer to the house?” I muse for her input.
Posey crosses her arms. “Think it’ll hold youregoup? It weighs a ton.”
“Sure, it’ll hold me—and my ego—just fine, don’t you worry.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. I wouldn’t mind watching you fall on your ass.”
She stomps off in a mood, leaving the lingering trail of her perfume behind.
And cake.
It’s everywhere, and someone has to clean it up off the floor. Judging by her departure, that someone was clearly meant to be me.
6
posey
I’m still pissed Friday night, though plenty of time has passed for me to get over the ‘Cake Incident’—a story I cannot share with Anna because then I would have to explain what Duke Colter is doing living in my house.
Duke Colter.
First-round draft pick.
Heisman Trophy Award winner.
One of four brothers.
Son of Derek Colter, legendary professional football player, four-time Super Bowl champion, three-time MVP, Hall of Famer, and famous sports broadcaster—may he rest in peace.
I’ve been on an internet deep dive since dipshit downstairs disrupted my entire schedule, scared me half to death, made me become his personal assistant, and ate my friend’s beautiful cake.
I had to stop on the way to work this morning and get a sheet cake from the grocery store—not that Anna minded, she’s a sweetheart—or even knew about the first cake I’d baked from scratch…but it still irked me nonetheless.
Duke is screwing around in the yard, putzing around with that hammock he managed to unearth, twisting screws into the side of the big oak trees, testing this, looking at that. Sitting on it to make sure it’s secure.
“I hope that moron falls to the ground,” I mutter, pulling my hair into a low ponytail, watching him from my bedroom window.
I’m having friends over tonight—yes, yes, I know. We’re hiding Duke… that’s too damn bad.
The man can sit in his room upstairs and suffer for a few hours.
All bets were off when he refused to acknowledge a few simple house rules and dig through my kitchen as if he owned the place.
I don’t even own the place.
I owe Anna a party—I’m famous for them—and I haven’t seen my friend Kate in weeks. Kate is Eli’s sister and used to be a staple around our house when Molly was living here, a fixture during my simple charcuterie and wine gatherings, which I loved hosting mid-week to cure those working blues.
Nothing cheers up my friends like a meat and cheese tray.
Kate has been dating a guy named Paul, whom I’ve only met a few times, and their relationship is monopolizing most of her time. Which isn’t surprising but makes me a little sad.