Page 21 of Ravished By Her

I glanced back at her and did my best to keep any kind of pity off my face. “You got it.”

* * *

The rest of the day I couldn’t stop wondering what had happened to Lacey. How long had she been divorced? How long had she been married? Who had filed?

None of that was any of my business, but I couldn’t help but be obsessed by thoughts of it.

We’d finally done the first coat of primer on the cabinets and had moved on to painting the living room when Lacey finally set the roller down and faced me.

“Okay, ask me.”

“What?” I asked. She wiped her paint-splattered hands on her shorts. I didn’t miss the spots that dotted her legs. Lacey had really spectacular legs. The kind of legs I wanted to suffocate me.

“Ask me about my divorce,” she said, glaring at me as if daring to say anything.

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it,” I said, wondering where this was coming from. I hadn’t breathed a word about my internal questions, so had she somehow read my mind?

“I know, but I can literally feel you thinking the questions at me,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately, also putting down my brush. I’d managed to stay a little cleaner, but not by much. Painting was messy work and there was no way around that unless you wanted to wear a full-cover suit or something. I planned a long bathtub session this evening to scrub everything off.

Lacey glared at me for a second longer before she sighed. “She was my first girlfriend. We met in high school, started dating in college, and got married after we graduated. Nothing went really wrong, we just grew apart and she really wanted to have kids and I wasn’t ready yet. I thought we could stay friends, she cut off all contact and the only time I hear from her now is through her lawyer. There, now you know.” She picked up the roller again and angrily rolled it in the paint tray.

I was at a loss for words other than, “I’m sorry.”

Lacey’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, me too. Anyway. That’s how my life went to shit and then my grandfather died, and I was left with this.” She gestured around at the house. “And no one in my family was willing to step up and deal with this shit, but they sure as hell want the money when a sale goes through.” She started pacing the room. “I don’t know how the fuck this got dumped on me!” she yelled. “Fuck!”

This was something I hadn’t anticipated, and I wasn’t sure what the best course of action was.

Lacey stopped pacing and then faced me. “Fuck,” she said, her voice softer this time, with an edge of tears.

“Do you want me to give you a minute?” I asked.

Lacey clenched her jaw and looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, as if she was trying to keep back tears. She did that for a few seconds and then set her shoulders, sniffing loudly.

“Nope, I’m good.” She picked up her roller again.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, and went back to painting.

* * *

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Lacey said as we made sure the paint cans were closed. I was more than ready to get out of the paint fumes and into a hot bath with a book, but I was still concerned about Lacey.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Not a big deal at all.”

“I’m under a lot of stress with this, but that doesn’t mean I need to take it out on you when all you’ve done is help me. I know it’s your job and everything, but I meant what I said about not being able to do this without you. So, thank you.” Her face was slightly red as she dried her hands and I took her place at the kitchen sink to wash mine.

“You’re welcome,” I said as I scrubbed as much of the paint from my fingers as I could. “You should do something for yourself tonight.”

Lacey leaned her back against the counter next to me.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Something nice.”

Lacey thought about that as I dried my hands off. “What would you do?”

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