Bette paused, a box in her arms. "I did. It just, it sorta just fell into my lap."
Zoe opened her mouth to speak when Kerrie's black Ford Ranger pulled in next to her car. Bette could see Kenny in the passenger seat, straining to see them.
Kerrie rolled down her window and popped her head out. Her hair was a little tousled, and she had an apologetic smile on her handsome face. "Sorry, we're a little late. The center called about an issue with some clients. I'll just turn the truck around so we can get started."
Bette shivered inwardly as Kerrie looked at her appraisingly before ducking back in the truck. Bette rubbed her upper arms subconsciously, hoping they didn't look too puffy. She hated her arms, but it was going to be a hot day, and sleeves sounded like torture. The brief look Kerrie gave her suggested she didn't need to worry about whether her arms were puffy or not, though. It was a feeling of appreciation Bette wasn't used to.
As Kerrie put the truck in reverse, Bette heard Zoe snort beside her. "Is she what fell into your lap?"
Eyebrows raising to her forehead, Bette gaped at her daughter, lightly smacking her on the arm. "Zoe Marie, you did not just say that!"
Zoe placed a hand on her mother's arm, setting her face serious. "Momma, I say this with all the love I have for you. You need to get laid. It's time."
"What is it with your dirty mouth this morning?" Bette admonished, hardly believing her ears. Her daughter had never spoken so candidly to her—like they were both adults. Of course, technically, they were, but Bette still saw her chubby-cheeked baby girl when she looked at Zoe.
Shrugging, Zoe slipped her long, blond ponytail over her shoulder. "I'm just saying. You weren't happy with Mom by the end, and you deserve to have fun. You deserve to be happy."
"You haven't even met her. She's just my coworker."
"Mom, it doesn't take a genius to see the woman is gay. And your face lit up when you saw her and the look she gave you. She was interested in what she was looking at. I know what I saw."
Kerrie put the truck in park, with the truck bed now facing the entrance of the storage unit. Kenny's door opened, and he slowly climbed out. "Hi, Bette."
"Hello, Kenny. I'd like you to meet my daughter. This is Zoe."
Kenny took a moment to register the statement, looking between Bette and Zoe and then smiled broadly. "Hi, Zoe."
"Hi, Kenny. What happened to your arm?"
Kenny rubbed at his head with his usable arm and chuckled at the ground. "I fell in the bathtub."
"Oh, that's not fun."
"No, it's not."
"And I'm his twin sister, Kerrie. It's nice to meet you, Zoe," introduced Kerrie, holding her hand out. Zoe shook it and didn't hide her face as she looked Kerrie over. She grinned mischievously at her mother, a grin that Bette knew all too well and was about to be embarrassed.
"Well, hello, Kerrie. Are you the knight in shining armor that's rescued my mom from my grandmother?"
Bette had the urge to crawl under her car, which only increased when Kerrie shot her a cheeky grin and a raised eyebrow. "I don't know about that. Your mom seems like a tough lady, but I'm happy I could help in some way."
Zoe turned her head and mouthed to her mother, "I love her already."
A nervous chuckle left Bette's tight chest as she clapped her hands. "Well, let's get started, shall we?"
***
The flush of red that overcame Bette's face as her daughter embarrassed her sent a jolt of confidence into Kerrie's chest, causing her to puff it out and straighten her shoulders. She loved how the lines around Bette's mouth softened as she slyly smiled. A vulnerable Bette was a beautiful thing.
Bette's appearance hadn't escaped her. Gone were the power heels and full face of makeup. In its place was clean skin and a pair of large framed glasses. Bette's normally styled coif was piled high on her head in a messy bun. Kerrie had suspected the body underneath the stylish clothing was nice, and she was pleased to see she was correct. Black leggings and a sleeveless pink razorback tank top highlighted the body of a woman. Soft upper arms, a round belly, and hips that, for some reason, she strategically hid under dress clothing.
Why did women do that?She mused to herself. Why hide delicious dips and curves? Kerrie was 52. She enjoyed the female body of someone her own age. All the little things people in their early twenties thought were imperfections only served to turn Kerrie's head. Who wants tiny and hard when you could wrap yourself around bountiful and soft? Kerrie would be willing to bet the breasts beneath the tank top once sat up a little higher but weren't near as velvety and inviting as they were now.
The image of them in bed watching a movie and Kerrie's head lying on Bette's chest, soothed by the sound and rising of Bette's breathing, popped into her head. Her breath hitched in her chest briefly; she shook herself out of the thought. She hadn't imagined something like that for herself in a very long time, and it confused her. She couldn't remember the last time she had an intimate moment like that. Nor could she remember the last time she found herself longing for it.
"Thank you again for helping today," Bette said, looking up at her through long eyelashes.
"It was nothing. We'd probably just be rotting on the couch anyways," she said with a shrug, her cheeks heating up.Where were these nervous feelings coming from?She let the tailgate down and then cracked her knuckles. "What needs to go?"
