Page 8 of Horoscope to Love
Why the hell did you kiss her?
My brain shouts the question in my head, but it’s my dick that is practically screaming back an answer. I shift my hips as I circle the truck, trying to find some sort of relief from the hardening in my jeans. The sudden chafing reminds me that I skipped searching for underwear earlier.
I glance over my shoulder as I reach the front door and see her with the phone pressed to her ear. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I don’t miss the smile that spreads across her face at something the man says.
Unexplainable jealousy flairs up inside me. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know this woman. All I know about her is that she broke into my house and then proceeded to clumsily knock herself out in my front room. But did that stop me from volunteering to look after her tonight to ensure that she doesn't have a concussion? No. Did that stop me from kissing her in my truck a short while later? Nope.
I push open the front door and head inside. The need to get a handle on everything that’s happened is all-consuming, but one thing my mind and body continue to circle back to is the feel of her lips, her taste.
“Get it together,” I mumble to myself as I walk into the kitchen.
I grab a beer from the fridge and nearly down it all in one pull, setting down the bottle on the folded paper sitting on the table. Something I never noticed before catches my eye—a name. Not just any name but the name Matilda was rambling about earlier.
I lift the bottle, and I see the name Madame Zodiac just on the edge of the wet ring.
“We need to talk,” Matilda says behind me. I turn and see her standing in the kitchen doorway.
“Yeah, we do,” I agree and hold up the paper. “Do you honestly think this is me?”
She doesn’t even glance at the paper but nods once.
“I have to admit,” she says with a shrug. “You were smart to add the ‘Madame’ part to throw me off.”
“This isn’t me.”
“You don’t have to lie. I got this address from the paper.”
I shake my head. “Look, I don’t know who this Madame Zodiac is and why you seem to be stalking her.”
“I’m not stalking her,” she interjects.
“If you say so, but in my book, tracking someone down to their home might look like something like stalking behavior.”
“I’m a reporter for the paper.” She points at the discarded pages still on the table. “Check on page three above the fold. You’ll see a picture of me.”
She waits while I find the page and see her picture with her byline indicating that she’s telling the truth.
“Matilda Jefferies,” I read out loud.
"Now, do you believe me?"
“It’s possible you might be telling me the truth,” I tease. “Or you are really good at playing the long con.”
She laughs. “You will soon come to realize that I have the patience of a toddler. People tell me it’s—charming.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
“I came here to write a story on Madame Zodiac.” I begin to explain to him all the couples who found each other by reading their horoscopes.
"I wish I could help you because, at this point, you have me curious, but I don’t know who this woman is and why she claimed to live here.”
Matilda’s shoulders sag in defeat. “I really wish I knew that a few minutes ago before I told my boss that I’d found her.”
Her boss?I had assumed the man calling her was a boyfriend.
"I guess if this lead is a dead end, then if you don't mind letting me sleep on your couch, I will be out of your hair by morning.
The urge to keep her around is sudden and intense, and the words are out of my mouth before I can second guess them.
“Maybe I can help you find this Madame Zodiac,” I offer.
