Page 25 of The Homemaker
Alice
Sex is an underrated icebreaker.
Don’t be a prude.
Eight Years Earlier …
With my legstucked into my shirt, knees to my chest, I grinned before taking a sip of my steamy coffee. Had I really propositioned Murphy for sex?
Palmer jumped up next to me on the outdoor sectional and purred the second I touched him. My gaze climbed the back side of the building just as Murphy opened the shades. He smiled, and I returned a beauty queen wave.
I liked my escape, and I never wanted to leave.
No job.
No responsibilities.
No one hovering over me, making sure I didn’t slit my wrists.
A few seconds later, Murphy descended the back stairs with a coffee mug in one hand and something indistinguishable in his other. “Good morning,” he said.
“What are you eating?” I asked.
“A quesadilla.”
I wrinkled my nose. “For breakfast? With coffee?”
“Correct.”
“Why is it so limp?”
“What do you mean?” He stepped onto the deck.
“They’re supposed to be crisp on the outside. Grilled to perfection with a side of guacamole.”
“I throw cheese on a tortilla, fold it in half, and nuke it. But enough about me. How’d you sleep after all that wine and red meat?”
“Like a baby. You?”
He yawned. “Not so great.”
“That’s too bad. Why not?”
“A lot on my mind?” He sat next to me on the sectional.
“Sex?”
He smirked before sipping his coffee, then he shook his head. “Wow. I thought it was just the wine and music. Twilight-induced bravery. But you’re going there this morning. Just throwing it out there before I’m properly caffeinated.”
“You’ve said on multiple occasions to let you know if I need anything. I don’t want this to come across as a threat, but when I leave my review, I’ll have no choice but to mention your lack of responsiveness to my requests.”
Murphy chuckled before shoving the rest of hisquesadilla into his mouth and chewing slowly. Then he cleared his throat. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like what?” I stroked Palmer’s back.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’ve been here four days, and you’re ready to have sex with me?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Have you ever met a woman at a bar and taken her home only to say, ‘Nice knowing ya,’ the next morning? I believe there is a name for that …” I twisted my lips.
