Page 38 of Two of a Kind
The electricity between them was still there, strong enough that the air between them practically sizzled with it, so he knew she wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe. But ... she had thrown him out on his ass, too.
Maybe,maybe, he had deserved it.
The question was: what was he going to do about it?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Spencer’s visit didabsolutely nothing to improve her mood. She had been so angry she hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning throughout the night. By the next day, her foul temper had taken a decided downturn and kept right on going.
It seemed as if everything that could go wrong that week, did. Annette decided to upgrade the office computers, which might have been all right if she hadn’t put her technologically-inept husband in charge of the task to save a few bucks ... and get him off his ass. As a result, the system was down more than it was up, and Kayla was forced to stay up half the night at home, trying to get work done that she couldn’t do at the office.
Because she had been up at all hours, she caught the kid she had hired to cut her grass hooking-up with the girl next door in her shed. Apparently, they told her with complete seriousness, they couldn’t help themselves. They had taken one look at each other and it had been love at first sight.
Well, that explained the noises she had been hearing out there at night.
While Kayla did sympathize—she remembered what it was like to be that age and in the throes of rampant teenage hormones—she couldn’t allow it to continue. They would find a way, as horny kids always did, but her garden shed wasn’t going to be their little love shack.
She fired the lawn kid and told the girl that, if she ever caught them sneaking onto her property again, she was going to take pictures and tell the girl’s mother. She wouldn’t, not really, but they didn’t know that.
As if all that wasn’t bad enough, her mother showed up on her doorstep with three pieces of designer luggage and a declaration that she had left Charles and would be staying in Kayla’s guest room indefinitely.
“Charles actually took her side over mine, can you imagine?” Patricia said that night, stabbing her fork into her fresh kale and quinoa salad. “He said the stress wasn’t good for the baby. Ha! That girl’s as healthy as an ox, and about the size of one, too.”
Kayla took another drink of her wine. “I’m sure he’ll come around. When is the baby due?”
“Two months.”
Two months. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. One thousand, three hundred, and forty-four hours. Eighty thousand, six hundred, and forty minutes. Four million, eight hundred and thirty-eight thousand, four hundred seconds.
It wasn’t as if Kayla was counting or anything, but given that her mother had arrived only six hours earlier, Kayla knew she wasn’t going to survive two months of listening to her bitching, whining, and moaning.
“I can call the realtor and have them delist the old house,” Kayla suggested.
“I thought you said there were several potential buyers interested.”
“There are, but there will be buyers a couple months from now, too. It’s a good house in a good neighborhood.”
