Page 61 of Sweet Little Thing

“Let it go, Stone! Half the damn country has been married to her mother!” the other guy shouted back.

“Get out of my house, Wesley. If you want this, then go with him. But don’t fucking have a party in my home, trash it, and use it as a way to sneak this bastard under my roof.”

“You did this! You moved in that, that girl! Trying to hurt me!” Presley cried.

“She needed somewhere to live. I gave her a place. The same as I did for you.”

“And did you fuck her like you did me?” Presley shot back.

I should walk away. Stop listening. But I couldn’t. Not after hearing that.

“It was one time. We were drunk. You came onto me naked in the hot tub. I am a man, and you were straddling me, rubbing your pussy on my dick. Trust me, I’ve regretted that lapse in judgment since the moment it happened.”

“You’re a cold bastard just like your dad,” the other man said.

“Says the man who was living off a woman and fucking her daughter behind her back. What happened, Wesley? She catch you fucking the neighbor’s kid and finally get rid of you?”

“Stop it! I can’t stay here with you! You’re nasty and cruel. I’m going with Wesley. He loves me. He cares about me,” Presley spat out.

I backed up slowly, praying no one heard my footsteps. This was not my drama, and I shouldn’t have heard any of it. Staying here this long had been wrong.

“Please, go with him. You have no money. His profession is to live off wealthy women. Good luck with all that,” Stone replied, and I began to ease quietly back to my room.

“You don’t know him!” Presley yelled.

There was no response.

I slipped back into my room breathing a sigh of relief. That was all worse than a television drama. I leaned back against the door to close it, but it stopped just before the latch clicked. A hand was holding it open.

“I trust that answered your curiosity.” Stone’s voice was businesslike. I didn’t have time to decide if he was angry or if I should respond. His hand was gone, and the weight of my body caused the door to slam shut.

I stared at the bed not moving. He’d caught me. But he hadn’t been upset. At least I didn’t think he was upset. That had been rude and intrusive of me to listen. I owed him an apology. Ishouldn’t have stayed out there like that.

Several other doors slammed shut with more force than mine had. I didn’t stand there to listen. I hurried to the bathroom to shower and dress for the day. I’d have to face Stone and apologize.

I needed to think of how to explain myself.

As the water ran down over my face, the image of Stone naked in a hot tub popped into my head uninvited, and I tried to push it away. I didn’t want to think about Stone naked, but the image wouldn’t leave. His description of what he and Presley had done seemed to want to play out in my head regardless.

Frustrated, I hummed my mother’s favorite Elvis Presley song and tried to focus on the lyrics. I struggled to picture anything, but the image my mind kept displaying. When my body tingled as I unwillingly remembered Stone’s description of being straddled naked, I covered my face, horrified by my reaction and thoughts. How did that turn me on? Was I sick in the head and only now realizing it?

“I am not a sicko, I am not a sicko,” I repeated quietly to myself until the water turned cold.

Chapter

Forty

Beulah

Geraldine came to the door wearing a red-striped bikini and a large straw hat, carrying a martini glass full of milk. I was a little shocked, but I was also grateful she was mindlessly packing for a nonexistent trip to the Caribbean because it helped me drown my thoughts.

I was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch when Geraldine finally came out of her spell.

“Why am I wearing this bikini?” she asked.

I spun around from loading the dishwasher to see her with a towel wrapped around her, and her hat was gone.

“You were packing for a trip to the Caribbean,” I told her.

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