sensed sharpness in those words. We'd always been competitive, duking it out over test scores, sports, and of course, boys.
“I can handle it.” The coals were good to go. Better put the lid back on. “And of course I had to volunteer. I'm the only one with a house big enough for us all. You and Trey live in those small apartments. And we definitely can't eat in Max's RV.”
She took a long sip of her vodka and lemonade. “Max. Wow. I can't believe he actually came back here. He's got some nerve, showing his face here after all the trouble he's caused.”
I turned away from her and licked my lips. The taste of Max remained on them, and the memory of that kiss from three days ago was still on my mind.
I knew better than to let my curiosity get the best of me. During the day, I managed to shove his handsome face out of my mind. But at night, when I lay alone in bed, I was helpless.
In my fantasies, that kiss became much more. Last night, I had a dream of him so explicit, so filthy, that I woke up with soaked underwear. Then I was so painfully turned on that I couldn't go back to sleep.
My vibrator provided some welcome relief, but it just wasn't enough. It was his touch that I craved, in spite of how very bad he was for me.
Or maybe because of it.
“He certainly has broken a lot of hearts,” I murmured.
Her glass was already empty. She was halfway to drunk, but got up to refill her drink anyway.
“Yeah, including mine. He lied to my face and told me he was going to Afghanistan for the army. ” She tripped over a loose board and cursed. “Said he'd be alone there for months with no woman to love him. The things he said to get in my pants...”
Thankfully, she trailed off as she made her way back indoors. Max really did have some nerve, didn't he? The guy lied to sleep with my sister, bailed on her, and now he was coming after me.
I wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or proud that he'd picked me as his next conquest.
They'd be here soon. Better get in the shower so I didn't smell like sweat, dirt, plant fertilizer, and chicken poo when they showed up.
Inside, Rachael was busy pouring a fresh drink. Three-quarters vodka, with a splash of lemonade – yikes. If she kept this up she'd be totally smashed by the time the guys got here.
When she spotted me watching her, she thrust the glass at me. Booze splashed out and soaked into the hardwood floor.
“You want some? If I were you, I'd be getting hammered right about now.”
I stared at the little bump in my belly. I'd been avoiding alcohol for the past couple of months with no problem, but eventually, someone was going to get suspicious. How much longer could I keep hiding this pregnancy? At the rate my tummy was growing, it wouldn't be long until everyone found out.
“No thanks. I've got iced tea.”
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. After what that dipshit Rich did to you, you deserve it. I mean, the asshole was dating you while he was married. And he didn't even have the balls to tell you the truth.”
The worst part was if he hadn't knocked me up, we'd probably still be “dating” this very moment. The day I took that test, I felt so sick. I thought Rich would come over and hold me. That he'd tell me we'd figure it out, and everything would be okay.
Instead, he told me – over a phone call – that this was an absolute disaster for him because he had a wife and kids at home.
Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, right?
Rachael took a swig of her lemon-flavored vodka and stumbled to my pantry for a snack.
“Where the heck's your potato chips? I'm starving to death.”
“Sorry. I usually make a batch every week, but I've been super busy lately.”
She rolled her eyes. “What woman makes her own chips? You realize how utterly pretentious that sounds? I mean, it's like a dollar fifty for Lay's at the store.”
“Well, I think they taste good. Anyway, there's a bag of Doritos in there somewhere.”
She muttered something