Page 60 of Hot Mess
And it worked.
I knew who I could thank for that.
Thanks again, Dani.
If only she still had a Ken doll whose head I could sever for this. Christ, but being a grown-up sucked sometimes.
“Danica.” The door opened behind me, and I turned—to find Ashley eating a lemon wedge. “You forgot this.” He tossed something at me and I caught it; my measuring tape.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Tell your aunt the lemon thing is pretty fucking good. I’ll take a dozen next time.” He popped the rest of the lemon wedge into his mouth, his blue eyes on mine.
Then he shut the door in my face.
Chapter Nine
Ash
The next morning, I was pretty fucking impressed with myself that I managed to haul my ass out of bed, put back a coffee and some takeout breakfast and get over to Summer’s place by eleven a.m..
On the way, I texted back-and-forth with Danica, messaging her at almost every red light.
Honestly, ever since she’d walked out of my place yesterday, I’d been looking weirdly forward to seeing her again. And having her in my place again.
Or at least, my dick had been.
Especially if she wore one of those snug blouses again, and one of those tight, ass-hugging skirts. Girl had a sweet, round ass. All her clothes should be that nude color. All the easier to picture her without them.
After I’d met her at her office and found out who she really was, I’d definitely downgraded her in my mind fromhot chick I want to fucktoannoying sister of chick who was a bitch to me. It wasn’t so much that Danica was annoying, but it definitely annoyed me that I’d embarrassed myself in front of her, andalsothat her sister was a bitch to me.
After the consultation at my place, I’d upgraded her status tohot chick I’m reconsidering fucking. I’d even updated her contact info in my phone from “twin #2” to “the hot twin.”
But she still wouldn’t admit that she was intome.
She just kept asking me bullshit interior decorating questions about paint and stuff. Total excuse to message me. I wasn’t born yesterday.
No one gave this many shits about wall color.
Plus, there were the lemon wedges. A dozen of them, waiting for me at the security desk in my lobby this morning as I left the building. The dude at the desk had buzzed me to tell me they’d been delivered for me. The woman who left them, he said, had brought two wedges for him, too, in a mini box.
I brought the lemon wedges with me to Summer’s. I wasn’t exactly gonna eat a dozen of them myself, and food this good really needed to be shared.
When I parked in her driveway, she didn’t answer the door, so I let myself into the house with the “secret” key she stashed in the bushes for her close friends to use. Elton John’s “Bennie and the Jets” was playing quietly. Didn’t see her in the kitchen or living room, which meant she was probably somewhere down the back hall—the one that led to her bedroom upstairs.
I put the bakery box on the kitchen counter, then lounged out on the comfy couch in her sunroom and checked my phone.
It was actually kinda irritating how happy it made my dick to find another message from Danica.
“Good morning.”
I looked up to find Summer wandering out of the back hall in yoga pants and a little tank top with a long, satiny robe-thing overtop, her dark hair in a ponytail, makeup on. If I’d never slept with her and known differently from experience, I might’ve thought she slept with makeup on and just woke up looking like that.
“Yo.”
She drifted past me, not quite dipping into the sunroom, headed for the kitchen. “When did you get here?”
“Few minutes ago.”
