AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Tell us everything,” Austen says. She’s bouncing on the couch like a four-year-old on Christmas morning. “Did you seduce him? Did he use his handcuffs? Do you call him officer? Does he insist on slow and easy or fast and rough?” She’s giving me a headache. Brontë just nods her head faster with every question. “Does he make you scream?”
“Umm.”
Oh, my god, Brontë mouths at Austen.
“Our big sister has herself a side piece,” Austen adds.
“I think you have to have a main piece to have a side piece,” Brontë points out.
“I was trying to make a sheriff reference. You know, like their guns are a side piece?”
“I guess. Ooh, I bet he hauled you in the first time just to get your number.”
“No, he hauled me in because I shot him with a Roman candle,” I remind her.
“Still. What did he say the first time he saw you? Was he flirting?” Brontë continues.
“He said ‘Ma’am.’ Then I shot him. Not super romantic. Oh, then he insulted my name.”
“So right up there with me breaking Reed’s nose then,” Austen replies. “Looks like Brontë’s drunken one-night stand might have been the least deadly way to meet a man.”
“I’d give two thumbs up to getting knocked up by your one-night stand to get the ball rolling,” Brontë replies snidely. She rolls her eyes.
“Do we get to tell everyone now that y’all are an item?” Austen asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Everything was good. But yesterday when we got back, a young girl was waiting for him that he obviously has a history with. Has to be his daughter.”
“That doesn’t sound like a deal breaker,” Brontë says. “I have a kid, and Rand still wanted me.”
“It was Rand’s kid,” I point out.
“Semantics.” She grins at me. “I’m just busting your lady balls. Still, what’s the problem with him having a kid?”
“Nothing, except you would have thought he would have mentioned it.”
“I’m arresting you for being a public nuisance. By the way, I have a daughter that may be left on my doorstep. Is that what you’re looking for?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe just a heads up.” I don’t like this conversation. I haven’t had time to process what I saw.
Yesterday, after I got home, I showered, ate some leftovers, watched too many movies, and fell asleep on the couch. This morning, I scrubbed my house and worked on the Jeep. Anything to keep from having to figure out what’s going on with Owen.
“How about we take you to lunch? We can talk it out over wine,” Austen says, wrapping her arms around me.
“Or we could do tacos and margaritas at the new place?” Brontë says, doing the same from the other side.
“If I say yes, will it get y’all out of my house for the rest of the day?” I ask.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Promise.”
“Then I’m thinking tequila. Let’s go.” I stand. They follow me out the door. I know I bitch about them a lot, but there is a chance they’re exactly who I need right now. If anyone can shed light on a complicated situation, it’s my sisters. “Wait, you can’t have tequila.”
“Thanks for raining on the parade,” Brontë answers. “I also know that.”
