Page 13 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
He would never let his grass get this long, she thought, casting a long glance over to the next house. His is cut so low it feels more like carpet than grass.
Cayden’s house had been pretty quiet this week. Usually, she saw him outside for a couple of hours a day. She never had any clue what exactly he was doing, and she was hesitant to ask him even though she found the whole gardening thing oddly intriguing.
For the last several days, though, she hadn’t seen him much.
Maybe part of the reason had to deal with her growing business. One of her newer clients was being extra needy and called her at least three or four times every day, no matter how many times Lillian explained that she would answer all the questions next time they met. Another client contracted some dreadful illness and had to be on bed rest for two weeks before she saw any people. It screwed up Lillian’s weekly routine, so now she had to shift appointments around. Not a big deal, just some extra planning and rearranging. Not like my personal life has to be put on hold. Especially when there’s nothing to hold.
Her eyes hurt from staring at the computer screen for such long periods of time, writing new pamphlets and figuring out how to schedule new clients without stressing herself too much. Just the idea of having more intense flare-ups made her feel almost physically sick.
But finding that balance between adding more to her schedule and taking enough rest time was a whole other matter that was more difficult than she’d anticipated. She’d figure a way, she thought as she headed back into the house.
Needless to say, with all the changes she hadn’t made peeking through the blinds to spy on the hot neighbor a priority.
So many girls she knew—well, knew before—would’ve spared a few minutes for the eye candy. Sometimes Lillian felt like something was wrong with her because she didn’t make much space in her life for romantic escapades.
She could hear her former roommate’s voice now, as clearly as if she were in the room: “Come on, Lil. What’s the harm in trying? Just experiment a little!”
“Nah,” Lillian had said. “I’ve got shit to do and can’t let anyone keep me from it.”
“A guy won’t keep you from it. He’ll make you feel better. I mean, look at you. You’re so uptight and stressed all the time. Couldn’t you use a little loosening up?”
“I stretch every day and even have a glass of wine on the weekends. I’m plenty loose, Amelia.”
Lillian caught herself staring into space, immersed in the flashback. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t pull herself out of it. Not yet.
She remembered Amelia setting her jaw, then stomping over to the window and opening it. She stuck her head out and, much to Lillian’s horror, yelled down the ground. “Hey, Reg, tell my tight-wad roommate you’ll give her a drink on the house tonight!”
I hate living above a nightclub. This one thought was the most vivid thing she remembered about the whole scenario. Aside from the fact it was above a nightclub, the apartment was in a less-than-ideal area of town. They had no choice; it was the only place within their budget. As soon as they’d moved in, Amelia made it a point to get friendly with all the bartenders and local patrons to secure herself a lifetime supply of free alcohol. She’d done it within a month.
“What’s her problem?” Lillian heard a man’s voice float into the room from below.
Amelia giggled like a little girl and shouted again, “She says she’s got shit to do. Just your average business-minded party pooper.”
“I am not!” Lillian threw a pillow at her roommate.
“Are too!”
“Send her down tonight,” came Reg’s voice. “I’ll fix her up something special.”
That sounded scary. “What does that mean?”
Waving her hand nonchalantly, Amelia shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Reg is a good guy. I’ll go with you. And if you really, really hate it, you can just come back up here, away from everything.”
“Me? Not us?”
“Hell no!” Amelia stood on a chair and shimmied her whole body. “I’m going to have fun tonight! It’s Saturday! If you want to spend tonight by yourself doing old-lady stuff, be my guest.”
Old-lady stuff?
As if she had read Lillian’s mind, Amelia half-turned and slapped her own butt. “I’m not going to have this forever, chica. May as well flaunt it while you’ve got it, right?”
Lillian caught herself laughing out loud, almost startling herself at the sudden noise in her death-quiet house.
Quiet.
It was too quiet. Usually it didn’t bother her, especially when she was working. She needed total silence to focus, but she desperately needed a break right now.
Too quiet.
