The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (mind reading books .txt) 📗

followed close behind and dashed to catch up while Freya held the trash bag open. “Thanks,” she smiled. “You look relaxed.”

“I guess I am. It’s really good to be home,” she curled her toes on the rough concrete, eyeing the pool and counting the minutes until she could climb in.

Halting before they rejoined the others, Tammy twiddled her thumbs awkwardly.

“What’s up, Mom?” Freya nodded to Tammy’s restless hands and crossed her arms.

“There’s a rumor floating around. About you. And Zane.”

Oh shit. Freya’s pulse thundered in her ears as she accepted that at least some of the hundreds of people had probably witnessed her stupidity. “Okay.”

“You know your Aunt Clara. She says that after leaving the party, you two headed across the street and had a romantic dinner, then wandered into the wedding chapel across from the hotel and came out laughing and smiling and kissing and… married.”

Freya kicked her foot against the patio. Grimacing as a sharp pebble jabbed into her skin, she hissed, “Aunt Clara is a busybody. That doesn’t sound like a coincidence, it sounds like spying.”

“Well, yes, that’s why I unfriended her on Facebook. But tell me…” Tammy stared into Freya, the maternal-worried-frown extracting the tears she poorly attempted to blink away. “Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up here. Can I come visit you Wednesday? Better yet, let me take you out to breakfast.”

Keeping her lips pursed tight, she nodded.

Clearing her throat, Tammy said, “Wasn’t Lulu’s gown awful? I could see her butt crack.”

A tickle of laughter released Freya’s throat. “It was terrible. What was she thinking, wearing a red thong with a white dress?”

“Oh, and you’ll love this. After you left, Aunt Del came over and asked where your special friend had gone. Kept saying how she’d hoped to rope him in for a dance so she could pinch that butt.”

The tickle turned into a riotous chortle. “She implied as much when she met him. Was she always so inappropriate?”

“To an extent. I talked to Gloria, and she said it’s worse since her divorce; she’s been trying to start an affair with some hot young thing. Gloria has tried to reign her in, letting her know she could, and should, get in serious trouble for that sort of behavior.”

“I can’t even tell Zane; he’d be so horrified.”

Tammy bit her lips together, then whispered, “I like him. And I think he likes you a lot.”

“Thought we weren’t talking about it.”

“Sorry. Sorry. We’ll talk Wednesday.”

“Thanks.” Freya tugged her dress over her head and set it on the back of a chair, then slipped into the pool. Warm as the Mediterranean, she put her head under so only her own thoughts could get to her.

After crossing the length of the pool, she turned to see Pippa chuck a ball to her with a half-assed heads up. Fortunately, she had terrible aim and the ball didn’t even make it halfway to Freya. Her quiet swim rapidly morphed into a rambunctious game of water basketball. Once her fingers were entirely pruned, her muscles heavy from the workout, she climbed the ladder and wrapped herself in a plush towel, still warm from the setting sun.

She dried off her feet on the doormat again and walked through the house to the laundry room. Denise had moved their clothes along while they goofed off in the pool like a bunch of rowdy kids, all overdue for the release after the last few months. Between Pippa and Lincoln’s wedding, everyone moving, new jobs… eloping… it had been a hell of a time for all of them.

Closing the door, she slipped off her swimsuit and pulled on her luxuriously warm panties fresh from the dryer. Her bra was hung neatly from a hook, so she tucked it in the bag with her wet swim stuff. Just as toasty from the sun, her dress brushed over her bare breasts, sensitized as she relived her earlier venture into the laundry room.

This time they’d been smart. Zane waited outside while she got changed. After watching him swim like he’d been born to the water, her imagination was running wild enough. Water basketball hadn’t been much safer, as man-to-man defense was so much more fun when the man was so damn sexy, and she could tug him by the waistband to get around him, whisper naked ideas in his ear to distract him… but torture of the worst sort when all she wanted to do was strip off her top and… shaking her head, she tried to focus on the laundry.

She folded Zane’s shorts and t-shirt, neatly tucking them in his bag. Checking the dryer to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, her hand brushed over something metal, a soft scraping sound as it spun on the metal wall of the dryer. Grabbing it, she realized Zane’s ring must have been in his pocket.

Sliding it onto her thumb, she walked out with their things. Zane was already on the way in and froze when he saw her. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he resumed his progress toward her, his plush towel wrapped around his waist. Standing inches apart, his voice hoarse, he asked, “You about ready?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Sophie riding home with Asher?”

“Yeah. They’re staying at your place tonight.”

“K. I’ll meet you at the truck?” She handed him his clean clothes.

He nodded and dug his keys from his bag, handing them to her. “Go ahead. I’ll be just a minute.”

Lying wide awake in bed, Zane gave up on sleep. At least it hadn’t been nightmares, as he couldn’t even get to sleep to begin with. He’d calculated adjustments to favorite beer recipes, considered the possibility of opening his own brewhouse, maybe even have some food on the menu but small scale. When that didn’t work, he resorted to reciting architectural