Page 36 of A Smooth Operator

"Echo, what about Fern's place?"

She turned to look at me and smiled wanly. "I had a sleeping bag."

"What the fuck?"

"It was a one-bedroom, Remi. She had the bedroom. And she didn't want me sleeping in the living room 'cause she sat there and watched TV."

"So, where did you sleep?" I demanded.

"In the summer, on the porch. When it got cool, in the kitchen."

I stared at her in disbelief. This was happening on the Drake estate. "What the fuck?"

"The bathroom is right there." She pointed to a door. "There are towels under the sink if you want a shower. I'll be in the living room."

I grabbed her arm. "How come you were sleepin' on the floor at our place, Echo? Why didn't you say somethin'?"

"Your mother knew. In fact, she gave the sleepin' bag to Aunt Fern. I'll see you in the living room."

I watched her walk out and close the door behind her, feeling very much like I knew nothing about this woman who I supposedly all but grew up with.

Chapter 13

Echo

Icleaned myself up in the half bath and went into the kitchen. My hands shook as I made tea.

I had sex with Remi Drake. I had two amazing orgasms with Remi Drake. I had the fabulous sex that books are written about with Remi Drake.

And he said he wanted to do it again. That was a good sign, right? It meant he enjoyed the sex. He didn't think my body was repulsive. The bedside lamp was on so he could see my body.

I felt giddy with joy.

I heard the shower run and loved that he was naked in my bathroom. He'd smell like me when he came out. He'd use my towels. My sheets would smell like him until I changed them. Even if this never happened again, and this was the only time I got to have him, I was grateful for it. I had a chance to feel beautiful, desired, and loved. Oh, not in the I love you forever sense but loved as in someone touched my body with pleasure, held me, hugged me, kissed me. He was tender and rough, affectionate, and demanding. I was still gloriously sore between my legs.

The quiet of the house was getting to me as I waited for Remi to come out of my bedroom. Would he say he regretted it? Would he say it was horrible? Would he say it was great? Would he suggest we date?

My cheeks flushed at that last thought. Could it happen? Could I be that lucky?

I connected my phone to the Bose speaker via Bluetooth and picked my favorite playlist. Etta James began to sing Shakey Ground just when the kettle whistled. I filled my cup with hot water and let the white tea bag steep.

I had taken a tentative sip when Remi stepped out of my bedroom. His hair was wet, and he looked serious.

My heart clenched. Oh, he was in a bad mood. He regretted it. Well, no surprise there. My fantasies may have taken this to a place that couldn't exist except in a fool's paradise—but I was a tough broad. I was prepared for reality.

"Would you like some tea?" I asked politely.

Was this how one behaved after some amazing sex? What the hell was the protocol for this?

"No, thanks." He walked close to me and checked his pockets. He pulled out his phone. "I'm just going to call an Uber."

"I can drop you off," I offered.

"No, thanks," he repeated. He pushed buttons on his phone, and I stood across the kitchen island from him, pretending to drink my tea, my heart in my throat.

He set his phone back in his pocket and gave me a tight smile. "Uber will be here in five minutes."

"Okay."

---