Sleeping with the Frenemy Read online

  “That's so odd,” she muttered and took a step to cross the street when she was tugged back.

  “Red, who were you calling out to?” Bryan asked.

  “Sharon Wade. She lives across the street from me. She just moved in a few days ago thanks to Aunt Sandy, who she's renting from. Sharon's a little shy. I don't know why she didn't hear me when I yelled her name.” Bridgette wiggled her nose, ready to catch up with Sharon in the store. Maybe she'd want to walk around town with her, and they could go to the dance together.

  Bryan rested his arm around her shoulders as they walked over to where his car was parked. “Go have your fun with your new friend.” He winked. “I'm on duty in ten minutes.”

  “I hope to have a great day of fun with my new friend,” Bridgette replied saucily and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Bryan chuckled and unlocked his car door.

  “Take care. Love you, Red.”

  “Love you back,” Bridgette replied and kissed him on his cheek.

  She waved as he drove away and hurried into the hardware store to catch Sharon.

  You won't escape me for much longer. Bridgette giggled over that thought and when she spotted Sharon in the paint aisle, she walked toward her with a skip in her step.

  * * * *

  Deborah dropped down on her heels as she found the can of paint she'd been searching for. The kitchen walls were in desperate need of a new coat, as did her bedroom. She decided on a nice mauve color that would go well with her dishes, and also the sheets and comforter she wanted to buy the next time she went out.

  “Are we doomed to continue meeting in the aisles of stores? First tampons, now paint?”

  Deborah almost fell on her ass as the familiar girlish voice spoke above her. She glanced up at Bridgette, who was close enough that her knee brushed her cheek. Deborah stood as her own knees cracked, holding the can of paint against her chest, and moved back an inch to give her more space.

  “A funny coincidence?” Deborah asked as she looked down at the top of the paint can.

  “Not really. I saw you walking and called out your name. You didn't even hear me, which I found odd, so I decided to follow you in here.” Bridgette smiled widely and tilted her head.

  Shit. I have to remember my new name. “I guess I didn't hear you. I was lost in my own thoughts,” she explained.

  Bridgette gave her a not-so-subtle disbelieving look. “Sure, it was crowded outside.” She pointed at the two bags at her feet. “What did you buy?”

  “A dress.” Deborah licked her lips. “And a few other items. My wardrobe is very lacking. I have far too many casual clothes. There was this lovely purple-and-white polka-dot halter dress in the window that I tried on. They had my size and since it was on sale, I went ahead and bought it.”

  “Oh yeah. That's been in the window for a while. It's not really my style. A bit too vintage for my taste.”

  Deborah laughed and shook her head. She'd thought Bridgette would be the perfect candidate for the dress. But if what she wore now was any indication, she was mistaken. The dress Bridgette wore showed off a slight bulging around her stomach area. For some reason it didn't turn Deborah off, but actually quite the opposite, especially with the bodice of her sundress straining across her chest.

  “What? Did I spill something on me?” Bridgette asked and swiped her hands down her front.

  Deborah watched Bridgette's hands move over her body, and cleared her throat. She looked away and hefted the paint can up higher under one arm while she reached over to grab her bags with the other.

  “Here, let me help you.” Bridgette grabbed the can, her arm brushing past Deborah's chest, right across her nipples that had grown into hard nubs. Deborah turned slightly to cover her body's reaction and took her bags.

  “Thanks,” Deborah told Bridgette and walked over to the line to pay.

  “You're going to paint something?” Bridgette asked in a slight teasing voice.

  “Yes. I'm going to paint my kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. That's the plan I have for the next few days.”

  “Need help? I'm quite the skilled painter,” Bridgette said as she placed the can on the counter.

  Before Deborah could respond, the woman behind the counter rang them up. She chatted with Bridgette in a very friendly manner while Deborah watched in silence. The way Bridgette talked—flirted—with the woman wearing the tight T-shirt that showed a slip of her toned stomach had Deborah wondering if she and Bridgette once dated.

  After Deborah paid for the paint, she didn't wait for Bridgette to finish her conversation. She had just reached the front door when Bridgette came up behind her.

  “Wait up. Where's the rush?” Bridgette said, slightly out of breath.

  Deborah walked outside and gave Bridgette a blank stare. “You looked pretty friendly with the woman behind the counter. I didn't want to interrupt, since I have more errands to run.”

  Bridgette bit her lip and scratched her shoulder. Deborah had the insane urge to flick Bridgette's lip, but couldn't since her arms were full.

  “Tammy and I used to date when I was in college. She's now in a committed relationship with her girlfriend of five years. I'm not attracted to her in the way you may be thinking,” Bridgette said softly, her mouth tilting and her eyes glowing.

  Deborah cleared her throat in embarrassment over her jealous reaction. She waited for Bridgette to call her out on it, but she didn't. Instead, she took the paint can from her.

  “So where are we off to now?” Bridgette asked as if the conversation never happened.

  “You must have other things you want to do than tag along with me.”

  “Nope. Nothing at all. I'd rather give you a tour of my town,” Bridgette replied and poked her elbow lightly into Deborah's side.

  “Um, well…I was going to check my e-mail at the café down the street and get a cup of coffee.”

  “Check your e-mail? Don't you have Internet hooked up yet? I thought that would be one of the first things you'd do because of your job.”

  Deborah quickly scanned her memory to remember what she'd told Bridgette what she did for a living. When it came to her, she remained composed, although Bridgette stared at her in suspicion.

  “My Internet installation has been scheduled for Monday. My clients know I'm taking time off to get settled in my new home.”

  “Wow, no Internet yet? I bet you don't have cable either. How are you keeping busy and not dying from the boredom?” Bridgette asked as they started walking toward the café.

  “Cleaning and fixing up the house, of course.” Deborah replied. “Now that I think of it, I don't have to check my e-mail. I can just go back home with my stuff while you continue to—”

  “No can do, Sharon.” Bridgette clutched the can tighter and Deborah swallowed a laugh. Bridgette looked too charming for words, standing in a battle warrior-type stance. “How about we drop all this stuff off at my aunt's office so we can have our hands free to buy more stuff as we check out the tables and booths? Then afterward we can head back and get ready for the dance tonight. I can't wait to see you wear your new dress. What do you say?”

  Deborah couldn't fail to notice the probing stare Bridgette gave her, scanning her body from head to toe. Deborah almost closed her eyes and smiled from the welcomed heat in her stomach area, as well as the way in between her legs grew damp. She was so glad they were on a crowded street because she was close to kissing her.

  “All right. I'd love to,” Deborah relented.

  “Great!” Bridgette said loudly and pulled on her arm as she led them toward her aunt's office building.

  By the time they arrived, Bridgette was holding her hand and Deborah didn't mind in the least.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I wish I still had long enough hair to pull back in a ponytail. Deborah grimaced as she played with her hair.

  Christ, I'm going to puke. Sitting down on the toilet seat, she held a hand over her churning stomach. She began to nibble on her pinkie nail and had
to stop biting before she tore it off. She really needed to be in more control and stop this new nasty habit she'd picked up ever since she left Nevada. Taking in deep breaths, she lifted up the skirt of her new dress, loving the way it brushed against her bare legs.

  She rose up from her seat and twirled slowly around the room. Her skirt flared out and she fixed the spaghetti strap falling down her arm. She also left the top button undone since the bodice was a bit constricting. When she first had tried it on she noticed the tightness, happy she'd put on more weight and didn't look as skeletal as she once had been. It made sense since she was eating all the foods she wasn't allowed to eat over the past four years.

  “I've really got to do something with this hair.” Deborah grabbed a short, spiky piece and picked up the sparkling pink butterfly hair clip Bridgette had urged her to buy.

  Smiling, Deborah put it in her hair, close to the side of her left ear. Perfect! Just like the day had been with Bridgette.

  Bridgette had given her a lovely tour of Woodberry Creek, going as far as to introduce her to many of the people and business owners. Deborah greeted them with restraint at first, but since Bridgette's joy was contagious, she enjoyed chatting with her new neighbors. By mid-afternoon, Deborah was on a first-name basis with some, the names she could remember, and accumulated bags filled with more items for her house, as well as clothes and trinkets for her hair Bridgette helped her pick out.

  Finally Deborah admitted how tired she was, and without any argument, they grabbed her paint and headed home to relax for a few hours before they headed off to the dance.

  Deborah's stomach rolled again and she groaned. The last time she'd danced was at her wedding, and even then she had two left feet. Maybe she could sit off to the side and watch the festivities until the fireworks went off.

  The doorbell released a sharp ring and Deborah took one last look at her reflection in the mirror. Her face no longer looked gaunt, and even though the shadows under her eyes were still there, they weren't as prominent as before.

  When the bell went off a second time, she grabbed her purse, pulled on her white sandals, and walked down the stairs to meet her new friend.

  Yes, a friend. Bridgette is my friend, that's all.

  Deborah glanced out the peephole. Smiling, she opened the door to Bridgette, who wore a short denim skirt above the knees with a bright gold belt around the waist and a white tube top with red glittery dots across her chest. Her hair was a riot of red curls held back with a headband to match her belt.

  “Don't you look like a firework?” Deborah teased and ducked her head after giving Bridgette a thorough stare.

  “Wow, Sharon, you're beautiful,” Bridgette whispered, and when Deborah glanced up again, Bridgette licked her lips and stretched her hand out. She remained still as Bridgette fixed the shoulder strap that fell again. When her hand dropped, Deborah pressed her fingers over her shoulder, where her skin tingled.

  “Thanks for the compliment,” Deborah said when she found her voice again. For some reason her mouth had gone dry.

  “Back at ya.” Bridgette slid her hands in her skirt pockets and rocked back on her heels. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes.” Deborah pulled the door closed behind her. After she locked it, she climbed down the stairs with Bridgette beside her. Their bare shoulders brushed against one another and she stopped a whimper from erupting.

  The moment they reached the sidewalk, barks from Bridgette's house rang out. Deborah giggled when she noticed Rotquel leaning up against the front window.

  “Ah, the poor girl misses you,” Deborah said.

  Bridgette rolled her eyes. “She hates being locked up. I usually put her out in the backyard, but I'm afraid she'll go crazy when the fireworks go off.” Bridgette waved as they walked past her frowning next-door neighbor standing on her porch. “Hey, Mrs. Heckel. How's it going? Do you plan to go to the dance and see the fireworks?”

  The older woman compressed her lips in a straight line. “I plan to, if only to get away from your dog's annoying yapping.”

  “You know Rotquel will quiet down in a few minutes.” Bridgette gave Deborah a wink.

  “I need a drink,” the irritated woman grumbled loudly and went back inside her house.

  Deborah covered her mouth as she laughed. “She really doesn't like Rotquel.”

  “She's all talk.” Bridgette flapped her hand in the air. “I just ignore her. I've caught her throwing pieces of meat over the fence for Rotquel and overheard her giving Rotquel compliments when she thinks I'm not listening.”

  “That's too funny,” Deborah said as they crossed the street.

  Bridgette bumped her arm with Deborah's. “I know Rotquel would love to see you again. How about after the fireworks, you stop in to say hello to her?”

  “O-okay,” Deborah said slowly, wondering what else Bridgette had planned other than visiting her dog.

  Deborah stared out of the corner of her eye at Bridgette, who hummed under her breath. She waved at people standing in front of their houses and called out greetings to some. Her face was open and so innocent looking that Deborah decided she'd never be the type to do something too deceitful.

  “Hey you, why so silent?” Bridgette bumped into her, this time her fingers coming in contact with hers. When Bridgette linked their hands and swung their arms, Deborah joined along.

  “I was just thinking it's been so long since I've been to a dance. I can't dance to save my life. It's embarrassing,” Deborah admitted as she heard live music off in the distance.

  Bridgette gave her hand a squeeze. “Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't embarrass yourself.”

  Deborah nodded, knowing Bridgette would be by her side the entire time to make sure she didn't fumble.

  * * * *

  The bathroom wall was cool against her back. Deborah closed her eyes and gulped in air. She'd almost ruined everything and panicked. Bridgette had introduced her to both her father and uncle, where she proceeded to tell them what an incredible graphic artist she was, even without seeing any of her supposed amazing work.

  “Shit. Why didn't I think of some other profession?” Deborah moaned and covered her face. She came up with the first thing that had come to her mind and wanted to impress Bridgette, who was an artist herself. And now Deborah was screwed. She'd never thought word would spread and people would want to hire her to create their web pages, including updating the sites of both the police and mayor's office.

  Her head throbbed painfully and she turned to lean over the sink, closing her mouth to stop from vomiting. Everything had been going so well! She really enjoyed meeting Bridgette's brother, Bryan, and even her parents who, although they seemed overly interested in Bridgette's private life, were sweet and friendly people—much like their daughter.

  Bridgette, the one Deborah wanted to kiss desperately and take to her bed—tasting her generous breasts, stomach, hips, and pussy lips that would—

  “Sharon? Are you feeling okay?”

  Deborah turned upon hearing Bridgette saying her name and feeling a warm palm on her back. She shook her head as she leaned back against the sink, facing a worried-looking Bridgette.

  “I think I had one too many beers,” Deborah said lamely and fanned her face. She scanned the room, glad no one else had come upon her.

  Bridgette tore away some paper towels from the wall and wet them under the sink. “I grew concerned when you suddenly said you had to use the bathroom and rushed away. You were gone for such a long time. Here, sit down and rest for a moment.” She pulled Deborah by her arm and sat her in a wooden patio chair, pressing her head down and placing the cool, wet towel over the back of her neck.

  “What if someone comes inside?” Deborah asked into her lap. Bridgette kept her one hand over the towel while her other petted her hair.

  “So what if someone comes in? Everyone else is getting settled in to watch the fireworks.”

  “Shoot. We never got to dance like you wanted,” Deborah lamented and
lifted her head back up. Her face was in line with the edge of Bridgette's chest. What if she leaned forward and laid her head there as Bridgette continued playing with her hair?

  “Don't worry about it. I'll take a rain check,” Bridgette replied in a soft voice and her other hand came around, making circles along the sides of Deborah's head.

  Deborah moaned. Her eyes flickered as Bridgette massaged her crown. “I'm sorry for freaking out back there. Sometimes I have panic attacks and don't do well in crowds,” she explained, hoping Bridgette believed her lie.

  “Stop apologizing. I know you're…shy and not comfortable with people. No one remarked on you leaving. I only noticed you were upset because I care for you.”

  Care for me? Deborah's eyes went wide as she stared up at Bridgette's face. “You've only known me for a few days. How can you care for me already? It's too soon…” Her voice drifted away as Bridgette's face came in closer to hers.

  “I don't know why, but I do. And just so you know, I don't care for you only as my new friend.”

  When Bridgette dropped her mouth over hers, she froze. Bridgette didn't move her lips or try to slip her tongue into her mouth. She waited for both, and when Bridgette finally opened her mouth, Deborah moved her hands up until they were covering Bridgette's arms. When Deborah sucked down on Bridgette's bottom lip, Bridgette's tongue came out and swiped across the edge of her mouth.

  “Bridge,” Deborah whispered and dug her chewed-down nails into Bridgette's arms. She tasted the slight sugar coating Bridgette's mouth from the cotton candy she had eaten earlier.

  “Hmm,” Bridgette replied and continued playing with her hair as her tongue swept over Deborah's.

  Deborah sat back as Bridgette's palm rested on her cheek. She shuddered and kissed Bridgette harder. As her mouth opened again to welcome more of Bridgette's tongue, Bridgette moved away and rubbed her thumb over Deborah's mole.

  “That was very nice, Sharon.” Bridgette bit down lightly on Deborah's lip, and with one last peck, stepped back.