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Although it was past my bedtime, I was in my recliner, flipping through channels. Eugene lay on the floor beside the Christmas tree with a blanket wrapped around her. She was reading on her Kindle. I found myself watching her more than the TV. Placing the remote on the arm’s chair, I gave up and scrolled through my social media. I found Edwin’s Facebook and searched for Eugene among his friends. Her profile was private, so I sent her a friend request.
I rubbed the scruff on my chin as her phone pinged. She opened it, scrolled, then whipped her head up. “Are you stalking me, Hudson?”
“Accept the request,” I barked, opening my phone again. “We live together. It makes sense to be Facebook friends.”
After accepting, she closed her phone, and went back to reading. I scrolled through her profile, then her pictures, and frowned when I came across a tagged photo of her and a man together. His arm was draped around her shoulders, and they were smiling. He looked like a weasel. She was a brunette at the time, and the date was a few years ago. That had to be her natural hair color. It was pretty, but so was the red. Regardless, the photo’s caption ticked me off.
Rosie Bailey: Look at these two lovebirds! (heart emoji)
I put down my phone and shut my eyes, needing a minute to calm down. My pulse thrummed at my temple. It wouldn’t make sense for me to ask who he was. Clearly, he was an ex, but I didn’t like it.
Opening my lids, I saw that she was still reading, a slight curve on her lips as she stared at the Kindle. Really? She wasn’t even a little curious about me to scroll through my profile?
I grunted, causing her to glance up.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“You’re up late,” I said with a slight rumble in my voice.
She quirked a brow. “So, are you.” When I said nothing but continued to stare, she twisted onto her back and looked at the tree. “I forgot how much I enjoy Christmas lights.”
The blanket had fallen off her chest as she moved. She was still wearing one of the shirts with holes.
I gestured toward her shirt. “I thought you bought new clothes.”
She smirked and yanked her blanket down, revealing her legs.
Well, I believe it was the shorts she wanted me to see, but all I saw was bare skin. I’d never seen so much of her before, and heat spread up my neck onto my face. The absurdity of my reaction to her unnerved me. It was like I’d never seen a woman’s legs before.
“See my shorts? I got three pairs of these babies for six bucks. They’ll be good to sleep in.”
It looked like rough material, so I didn’t see how it could be comfortable. “You actually plan to sleep in those ugly tan things?”
She laughed. “They are hideous, but I got them for around the house.”
Palming my forehead, I shook my head, which made her giggle again.
“I’m sorry my ugly shorts aren’t like your silky pj’s.”
“They’re not all silky,” I confessed, dropping my arm. “These are cotton.” I gestured to the red flannel I wore.
That time, she shook her head. “I’ve never seen you mismatched.”
“And you never will.”
Her eyes twinkled as they crinkled in the corners. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She stood, covering herself with the blanket entirely, so I didn’t see her legs. “But you know what they say about being around the wrong crowd.”
I folded my arms over my chest and tilted my head at her. “What do they say?”
“I reckon anyone can be influenced by the wrong person if they’re around them enough.”
“You’re right. Anyone can be influenced.”
In fact, I’d make sure to take a long lunch the next day andfixher shirt problem.
