Page 65 of Rock Chick Rescue

I began to get nervous, wondering what we’d talk about.

I didn’t have to worry. Eddie asked questions that were not too demanding and I answered, telling him a little about Lottie, but mostly about Mom.

I asked questions and found out Eddie had bought the house as a wreck about three years ago and was slowly doing it up. He had three sisters, two brothers. He was the second born and his father had died of a heart attack a little over a year ago. The family was close. They all still lived in Denver and the loss of their father was a blow. I also found out he’d known Lee since the third grade and with Lee came Indy, Hank and Ally.

Then we were finished eating and I realized I’d been lulled into a false sense of security.

Dear Lord, what were we going to do now?

I didn’t want to think what wecoulddo so I jumped up and grabbed the plates.

“I’ll do the dishes,” I announced, deciding that was a good plan. Then I hustled into the kitchen.

I was rinsing the plates when I heard Eddie come in behind me.

“Leave them,” he said to the back of my head.

I didn’t turn around.

“No, there’s not a lot. I’ll just do these and wrap up the food.” And anything else I could think up to avoid him while we were in his house. I wasn’t beneath cleaning his bathroom if I had to.

Eddie came up behind me. His hips pressed mine into the sink, an arm came around my middle and his other hand moved my hair away from my neck. Then his mouth was where my hair used to be.

“Leave them,” he said against my neck in a voice that clearly stated his words were not a suggestion.

I did a full body shiver, and between my legs, my doo-da quivered.

His mouth moved up my neck to behind my ear.

Then the doorbell rang.

His arm tightened and his mouth went away.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and even though I couldn’t see him, I was pretty sure it was muttered through gritted teeth.

Eddie walked out of the kitchen.

I rinsed the dishes, put them in the dishwasher and heard my cell phone ring. I wiped my hands on a dishtowel, grabbed my purse and just missed the last ring. I looked to see who it was, worried it was Mom, but it was Indy.

I heard voices talking in Spanish, so I put the phone on the counter, deciding to text Indy later, and I walked into the other room. I saw Eddie standing in front of a tiny, Mexican woman with shiny black hair and a near-perfectly round body. She was carrying a small baker’s box, the kind in which you pack birthday cakes.

She turned to me and looked me up and down. Then her face split in a smile.

“Hello,” I greeted.

She came toward me. “Hola. I’m Blanca, Eddie’s mom.”

Uh…wow.

Thiswas a surprise.

I glanced at Eddie and his hands were on his hips, his head was tilted back, looking at the ceiling. This was not a happy posture.

For some reason (probably residual hysteria), I found this amusing.

I smiled at Blanca.

“I’m Jet,” I told her.

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