Trust Me? The Trust Me? Trilogy by K E Osborn Read Free Book Online Page A

overcomes me, and suddenly I feel like a giddy schoolgirl. I hit Reply .
     
    Typical male, thinks he knows everything. And I will have it both ways, Moronic Smart-ass Man! Lol
     
    I hit Send andsit up on my bed, impatiently waiting for the retorting text. My palms are sweaty, and butterflies are wreaking havoc in my stomach waiting for his reply. My cell phone beeps, and I almost squeal with excitement.
     
    I’m anything but a typical male, but I do know everything lol. Fine, I’ll let you have it both ways. From, Moronic Smart-ass Man.
     
    I shake my head smiling and hit Reply .
     
    Guess I’ll have to wait to find out myself if you are a
    “typical male” or not. I look forward to it. Jeni.
     
    I hit Send. I can honestly say I’m looking forward to
    seeing him. I want to feel that energy surge between us once more. Beep.
     
    I look forward to it as well, and I get a feeling that you
    are not a “typical girl” either. I have to go into a meeting now, but I’ll see you Friday. Till then, sweet dreams.
     
    Sweet dreams makes me wonder if he knows I’ve been dreaming of him. I shake my head. No, of course he doesn’t know. How could he? “ I know everything, Jenifer.” I take in a deep breath. Confusion swirls within me. No, he couldn’t know everything , could he? Don’t be silly,
    Jeni. I hit Reply .
     
    Okay, Moronic Smart-ass Man, have a good meeting. See you
    Friday.
     
    I hit Send and hear Sarah.
    “Dinner’s ready.”
    “Coming.” I jump up off the bed and walk out to the kitchen.
    Sarah is dancing while dishing out our gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese. She adds a glass of wine to accompany the meal. Over dinner we talk about her lecture today, and she complains about Chris not being here. I nod and agree,
    just going through the motions. After dinner, I do the dishes while dancing along to the music still playing in the living room.
    I move into the living room. Knowing Sarah will be pissed, I turn the volume down and change the channel to the news. Sarah calls Chris, and
    when she’s finished, she joins me on the sofa.
    “Chris has a family barbecue next Saturday, and I’m going as his date to meet his family.”
    “Wow,” I say. This is getting serious, fast.
    “Wow? That’s all you have to say?”
    “You didn’t let me finish. Wow, that’s great news.”
    “I’m so excited,” she squeals.
    “Meeting the family, huh? That’s a big step.”
    “I told you. This one is different.”
    I smile reassuringly at her. “Certainly seems different. He gets a gold star from me.”
    We keep chatting for a few more hours enjoying each other’s
    company.

Chapter 6
    Thenext day after work I walk down the hallway
    toward the kitchen, and again, loud music blares from the television.
    “Sarah, the neighbors are going to complain,” I yell as I put my bag and keys on the buffet then take out my cell phone.
    “Still nothing,” I mutter as I look at the screen. I start to feel a slight depression wave over me. I mustn’t let this guy get me down. I try to convince myself he was probably in meetings all day or something. I walk
    into the living room looking for Sarah, but she’s not there.
    “Sarah,” I yell. I start to turn down the volume of the television.
    “Ooh, Sarah.”
    “Chris, Chris, ooh, Chris.”
    I realize what I’m hearing coming from Sarah’s room. I very quickly turn the volume back up on the television and giggle to myself. I head toward the bathroom for a shower to help distract myself from what’s happening at the other end of the house. I wash my hair, lather up with body gel, and
    finish my shower. This time my shower is uneventful, without any fantasies.
    Once I’m dry and decent, I head out to make a start on dinner. I assume Chris is staying, although cooking for a chef is somewhat
    intimidating.
    * * *
    I finish my meal, alone, and wander into my room. I lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling, pondering whether or not to message Aiden. Chris’