Page 30 of The Homemaker
Chapter Thirteen
Murphy
If you’re going to lie,
make it the best story ever told.
Eight Years Earlier …
DidI fuck another man’s wife? I hoped not.
I wasn’t a one-night-stand novice, but having sex with someone who was paying money to rent my place felt different. Alice felt different.
She was spontaneous and fun. Flirty and confident. But mostly, she was an enigma. Sometimes I wanted to figure her out, but other times I just wanted to revel in the wonder and curiosity she provoked. There was a certain level of satisfaction that came from not knowing everything about her, like staring at presents under the Christmas tree and having no clue what was inside them.
Why the diamond ring?
Why was she in Minneapolis for two weeks by herself with no obvious purpose?
Wine in the morning.
Steak as a late-night snack.
Offering to have sex with a man she just met.
My brain was shit. I had deadlines and no concentration. Sleep distracted me because I knew she was just below me, and I couldn’t stop wondering if she was awake, too, thinking about me.
The next morning, I stared at her through my window while the cursor on my computer blinked like a virtual tap on my shoulder.
Hello? Remember me? Your job?
The problem with Alice, and there were many, was the inexplicable feeling of familiarity I felt around her. More than déjà vu. More than instant attraction.
She sipped her coffee and curled her blond hair behind her ear, and then, out of the blue, but also with disturbingly accurate intention, she looked straight at me.
I hurled my body away from the window so quickly, the chair tipped over.
“Shit,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my head before wrestling with the overturned chair to find my feet again. Why was I acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush?
Just as my heart rate returned to normal, she knocked on my door, sending it into a frenzy again. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Get it together,” I said before stepping out of my office to open the door.
“Nice haircut.” She winked.
My dick stirred unnecessarily. It was confused. We (my dick and I) weren’t used to girls winking at us. Flirty smiles,lip biting, blushing … sure. But a wink felt like a bold move. Only confident people winked. We (my dick and I) wondered if Alice was confident that the three of us would have sex again.
“Thanks.” I dragged a hand through my hair.
“What are you doing today?” She sipped her coffee while keeping her eyes trained on me.
“Working. Why?”
“So not riding your bike?”
“Uh …”
“I assume the bike hanging in the garage is yours.”
I nodded.
