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Chapter 5
“Now that’s a sexy car,” Riley’s mom said, peeking out the curtain to the street in front of the house. “I always liked a souped up Mustang.”
Riley heard the purr of the engine and joined her mother at the window, taking the edge of the curtain from her to stop the fabric from fluttering so wildly. She didn’t want the neighbors to know they were spying.
“Thanks. I was afraid I might accidentally summon a bull with all the flapping. Good thing the curtains aren’t red.” She elbowed Riley. “Besides, it would be terrible if the rug didn’t match the drapes.”
Her mother laughed at her own joke, and her horsey laugh made Riley laugh too – until the Mustang pulled into the driveway and parked.
“Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Riley jerked the curtain closed and steered her mother and her walker away from the window. Mouthwatering Nate fucking Sexton was strolling up their walkway. The man had no business looking that good in a black T-shirt and low slung jeans. And the boots. She could lick those boots. She’d love for him to make her do it.
Fuck. She had to stop him at the door and tell him to get the fuck out of her life.
“What’s going on?” he mother dug her heels into the living room’s taupe area rug.
“The guy, Mom.”
“Is he bad news?”
“Only the baddest! It’s Nathanial Sexton.”
“Whaaat?” Her mother used the handbrake on her walker to foil Riley’s attempt to chivvy her out of the front room. “Why would Nate come over?”
“I might have…had sex with him a few days ago.” She cleared her throat. “Accidentally.”
“Aw…Nate. Sweet boy. He has a car now?”
“Mom, he’s twenty-five.”
“Does he work?”
“He’s a mechanic.”
“Oh, well that would come in handy.”
“Mom!”
“What? It’s true. For a mechanic I’ll throw an extra goat into your dowry. Good thing he’s not a plumber. Even I can’t afford that many extra goats.”
“My god, woman! Don’t you have something to crochet?”
“No way. I want to watch this. Can I make popcorn?”
“No popcorn!”
“You’re such a drag.”
The doorbell rang.
Riley huffed out a breath as panic tried to seize her.
“For the love of God, behave, mom. And FYI, no one says things are a drag anymore.”
“Yeah, well no one says FYI anymore either, you little popcorn hater.”
Riley stared at her side of the door, trying to slow the drumming of her heart.
“This part of the show is boring. Fast forward to where you open the damned door,” her mother stage whispered.
