She bought what struck her fancy. I’d grown up with foods like tuna pot pie, Vienna sausage chow mein, and cheese doodle croutons. There were no limits to what Mama wouldn’t mix or match when it came to food.
Self-preservation demanded I take charge of the cooking as soon as I moved back home. “Mama, don’t get crazy on me today. You’re to buy two pounds of ground turkey, two bags of salad, and lasagna makings. Bitsy and the boys wouldn’t know what to do with your culinary creations.”
Mama slapped her hands against her steering wheel. “Masterpieces. My dishes are masterpieces, and you’re wrong. Boys will eat anything.”
She was probably right, but why take the chance? “Well then, let me be wrong with normal lasagna. I expect very ordinary ingredients for my ordinary main dish tonight. Don’t bring home a gallon of picante sauce just because it’s on sale.”
“You’re so bossy these days, Cleo,” Mama grumbled. “You’re absolutely no fun at all. I know exactly what you need.”
I groaned because I knew what was coming out of Mama’s mouth next. She and Jonette were united on this front, and the last thing I needed was to be reminded of my nonexistent sex life. “I gotta run, Mama. Have fun at the grocery store.”
Mama wasn’t put off by my hasty retreat. Her clarion tones, though intended for my ears only, rang out like the Liberty Bell. “You need to get laid, Cleopatra Jones. And if you don’t do it soon, I’m going to move out. I can’t stand your bitchiness much longer.”
I ignored the elderly gentlemen puttering around their cars, hoping against hope they didn’t have their hearing aids turned on. Heat steamed from my face.
Ever since my divorce, I’ve felt out of step with everyone else. Not that I’d ever marched to the same beat as the world, but at least I’d been on a parallel course. Lately I had come to realize that I was running blind through life without a map.
Fumbling in the dark wasn’t my style. I needed some semblance of order to my world and the only way I could accomplish that was through organization.
I stood next to the Gray Beast, holding my car keys as I reviewed my plans for the day. I had a stack of Homeowners Association audits to complete which is why I couldn’t be spared for routine chores like grocery shopping for our houseguests.
I mentally ticked off my list of things to do. I needed to phone Jonette this morning to finesse the info she’d been withholding. We’d both feel better afterwards. Besides, our being on the outs with each other would only get worse if Bitsy arrived before we resolved our differences.
After I finished with Jonette, I needed to write out instructions for Charla and Lexy to put fresh linens on the beds. Then, if my work day went smoothly, all I would have left to do this evening would be to throw dinner together.
“Cleo?”
That sexy rumble needed no introduction. My hormones danced a little jig and I struggled to maintain my composure. Mama might be right about sex deprivation. Now that I was aware of Rafe, I couldn’t stop wondering how it would be between us. “Hello, Rafe. Big turnout today.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way his big brown eyes smiled at me. Had he heard Mama hollering across the parking lot about my lack of a sex life?
From the corner of my mind came a reminder of my resolve to trust no one, to assume that everyone I came in contact with could be Dudley’s murderer. I had to view Rafe in the same light, even if I was physically attracted to him.
“Today’s our Senior Invitational,” Rafe said. “Mild temperatures always increase our turnout.”
I fanned myself. My core temperature soared with long and lean Rafe standing next to me. His intent gaze made me feel as if I were the most compelling female in the universe.
Heady stuff indeed, now that I recognized my need for a male to pleasure me. A smile percolated up through my protective shield before I could stop
Self-preservation demanded I take charge of the cooking as soon as I moved back home. “Mama, don’t get crazy on me today. You’re to buy two pounds of ground turkey, two bags of salad, and lasagna makings. Bitsy and the boys wouldn’t know what to do with your culinary creations.”
Mama slapped her hands against her steering wheel. “Masterpieces. My dishes are masterpieces, and you’re wrong. Boys will eat anything.”
She was probably right, but why take the chance? “Well then, let me be wrong with normal lasagna. I expect very ordinary ingredients for my ordinary main dish tonight. Don’t bring home a gallon of picante sauce just because it’s on sale.”
“You’re so bossy these days, Cleo,” Mama grumbled. “You’re absolutely no fun at all. I know exactly what you need.”
I groaned because I knew what was coming out of Mama’s mouth next. She and Jonette were united on this front, and the last thing I needed was to be reminded of my nonexistent sex life. “I gotta run, Mama. Have fun at the grocery store.”
Mama wasn’t put off by my hasty retreat. Her clarion tones, though intended for my ears only, rang out like the Liberty Bell. “You need to get laid, Cleopatra Jones. And if you don’t do it soon, I’m going to move out. I can’t stand your bitchiness much longer.”
I ignored the elderly gentlemen puttering around their cars, hoping against hope they didn’t have their hearing aids turned on. Heat steamed from my face.
Ever since my divorce, I’ve felt out of step with everyone else. Not that I’d ever marched to the same beat as the world, but at least I’d been on a parallel course. Lately I had come to realize that I was running blind through life without a map.
Fumbling in the dark wasn’t my style. I needed some semblance of order to my world and the only way I could accomplish that was through organization.
I stood next to the Gray Beast, holding my car keys as I reviewed my plans for the day. I had a stack of Homeowners Association audits to complete which is why I couldn’t be spared for routine chores like grocery shopping for our houseguests.
I mentally ticked off my list of things to do. I needed to phone Jonette this morning to finesse the info she’d been withholding. We’d both feel better afterwards. Besides, our being on the outs with each other would only get worse if Bitsy arrived before we resolved our differences.
After I finished with Jonette, I needed to write out instructions for Charla and Lexy to put fresh linens on the beds. Then, if my work day went smoothly, all I would have left to do this evening would be to throw dinner together.
“Cleo?”
That sexy rumble needed no introduction. My hormones danced a little jig and I struggled to maintain my composure. Mama might be right about sex deprivation. Now that I was aware of Rafe, I couldn’t stop wondering how it would be between us. “Hello, Rafe. Big turnout today.”
I couldn’t help but notice the way his big brown eyes smiled at me. Had he heard Mama hollering across the parking lot about my lack of a sex life?
From the corner of my mind came a reminder of my resolve to trust no one, to assume that everyone I came in contact with could be Dudley’s murderer. I had to view Rafe in the same light, even if I was physically attracted to him.
“Today’s our Senior Invitational,” Rafe said. “Mild temperatures always increase our turnout.”
I fanned myself. My core temperature soared with long and lean Rafe standing next to me. His intent gaze made me feel as if I were the most compelling female in the universe.
Heady stuff indeed, now that I recognized my need for a male to pleasure me. A smile percolated up through my protective shield before I could stop
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