Page 107 of The Homemaker
Me too.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that. She’s pretty focused on serving you at your throne,” I say.
“Who’s serving who at what throne?”
My head whips around when I hear her voice.
Alice’s light pink and white dress sashays with each step as she carries a basket of fresh cut flowers toward the house. Perfect auburn ponytail bobbing like a show pony.
“Murphy was just asking me what my secret is to a happy marriage. I told him he needs to worship Blair like I worship Vera, and he’ll have a long, happy marriage.” Hunter delivers his bullshit with a devilish grin.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Alice bats her eyelashes. Her tone has an edge that makes my grin falter.
After she’s out of earshot (I hope), Hunter whistles. “There is nothing as sexy as a woman in heels.”
“I think they cause bunions. We should normalize wide-toed flats being the new sexy.”
“Christ, Murphy. I knew you were pussy-whipped, but castrated too?”
I laugh, handing him the ten thousand-dollar Honma putter that goes with his “older” matching irons he spent over 50K on. “I need to get some work done before Vera and Blair return from the salon, since it looks like I’ll be going to the animal shelter or a car dealership before the end of the day.”
“Go for the car. I don’t want a dog pissing on my floors.”
“You should have thought of that before doling out advice. The dog fits my budget better than the car,” I holler, walking away.
Alice isn’t in the kitchen, but there’s a jug of iced tea on the counter. I pour myself a glass and head to the bedroom to work. Do I take a big detour in hope of running into her? Absolutely.
“It was nice seeing your mom,” I say, for a lack of anything more original.
Alice transfers laundry from the washer to the dryer. “Yes. I’m sure you’ve missed seeing her the past eight years. Though she mentioned you didn’t send a Christmas card last year.”
“I’m making small talk.”
She starts the dryer and turns, leaning against it. “Why?”
“Because I need to work, but I’m procrastinating.”
Her perfectly lined red lips twist, and she clasps herhands in front of her, taking slow steps to me. It’s not an exaggeration when I say her nearness takes my breath away. I slide my hands into my pockets to keep them from touching her.
“Where’s Mr. Morrison?”
“Putting away the putters. Why?”
If she’s wondering if we have time to hide in a dark corner and kiss, we do. Sin begets sin. At this point, I’m in so far over my head, what’s one more kiss?
“It’s story time,” she says.
“That is so messed up.”
She smirks and unbuttons the top two buttons of her dress. “I think you’re jealous. Maybe when he’s down for his nap, I can read you a story. Do you have a favorite genre?”
Such a fucking tease.
“Let me guess. Anything with a ripped bodice on the cover?” Alice has always played out of my league.
I glance down the hallway for any sign of Hunter. Then I drag my thumb across my lower lip to mask my grin. “When’s your boyfriend coming home?”
“Yesterday.”
