Sleeping with the Frenemy Page 7

  “You're definitely in for a culture shock, since Woodberry Creek is the type of place to welcome anyone and treat them like family. You must come from a big city where everyone is in a rush and don't have time to even say good morning or ask how your day was.”

  Deborah shrugged and pulled on the back of her hair. “Maybe this isn't a good idea. I just arrived in town and I'm—”

  “Dear, if I let you go, you'll just go back to your hotel room or wherever you're staying and sit there all alone watching bad Pay-Per-View movies and ordering takeout. Why not come inside with me where we can chat?”

  Deborah flinched from hearing “dear”—that word she hoped she'd never hear someone call her again—and from the way this woman knew what Deborah planned to do if she walked away.

  “Are you sure you're just a housing agent and not a psychiatrist?” Deborah asked half jokingly, half seriously. The woman responded with a loud laugh again.

  “You'd be surprised by how insightful I can be after twenty years in this business.” The woman held out her hand for Deborah to shake. “I guess before we go any further, I should introduce myself. My name is Sandra Woodberry and I'll be more than happy to be your real-estate agent.”

  Deborah almost backed into the window, startled by hearing her last name. “Woodberry? You're not related to—”

  “Honey, I'm related to everyone. My family founded the town.”

  Deborah bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to ask Sandra if she was related to the bouncy woman she'd met in the drugstore.

  “I'm…I'm Sharon. I think I've met some of your family members already.” Deborah said nonchalantly and did her best not to cringe when Sandra lightly took hold of her elbow.

  “That shouldn't come as a surprise since there's more than one hundred of us Woodberrys living here. Why don't you come in like I said before and have a cup of coffee? I can tell you about some of my wacky relatives while you tell what you're looking for in a home.”

  There was no way she could get out of this now without making a scene, which was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, when Sandra unlocked the door, she walked inside and told her she'd like her coffee light and sweet.

  * * * *

  By the time Deborah had finished her coffee and Sandra, who preferred to be called Sandy, went over her housing needs, it was if a weight had been lifted away.

  Sandy didn't waste any time and told Deborah about four properties that would suit her and ones she could show her today. Deborah didn't have any excuse not to go, so off they went. Sandra also gave her the nickel tour, as she called it, by driving around town and pointing out certain areas such as the commons in the middle of town where people picnicked, listened to free music on the weekends or where children played in the playground. Deborah saw the high school, all the key buildings such as the police station and fire station, and even went so far as to show off the mayor's house. Deborah couldn't help but admire it.

  The tour ended as soon as Sandy parked in front of an apartment building where the first three places she wanted to show Deborah were located. Other than one apartment looking more like a loft and the other two having different dimensions and a floor plan, nothing about them called out “home” to her.

  “These apartments haven't impressed you,” Sandy stated as she and Deborah walked over to the car.

  Deborah shrugged. “They were all very nice and in the price range I'm looking for, but I'd rather live in a place with more space, like a house. Didn't you say the fourth property is a house?”

  Sandy nodded as she unlocked her car. “Yes, I did. It may be too big for a single woman like yourself, unless you're thinking of starting a family in the future.”

  Deborah never mentioned if she was single or otherwise and allowed Sandy to think what she wanted. “Would it be all right if we looked at it?”

  “Of course,” Sandy replied with a big smile that had Deborah giving her one in return.

  Less than ten minutes later, Deborah found herself on a residential street in front of a white two-story house with a nicely sized, newly mowed front lawn and a wooden porch with two rocking chairs in the right corner. The roof looked like it needed some work and the outside could use a new coat of paint, but otherwise Deborah couldn't find any other faults with it.

  “The house has been vacant for almost a year. The landlord is more than willing to stay on top of the upkeep, as you can see from the lawn. I can promise you the inside has no big issues.” Sandy jangled her keys as Deborah followed her up the steps.

  She unlocked the front door and motioned Deborah to go inside first. A sneeze escaped Deborah as dust flew up her nose. She sniffed and sneezed again, turning her head toward the beautiful stained glass window near the staircase leading up to the second landing.

  Home.

  Deborah barely listened as Sandy talked about the house as she walked from room to room. White sheets covered the furniture, and the walls had wonderful woodwork. She caressed one of the pillars near the kitchen and a pleasant warmth built low in her stomach. The kitchen had white cabinets and peach-colored walls, much like the ones she had grown up with. The upstairs had two bedrooms. The master bedroom faced the street while the other one overlooked the backyard surrounded by a wooden fence. The bathroom matched the décor of the kitchen and to Deborah's surprise had a sunken bathtub.

  “I'll take it,” Deborah announced in the middle of Sandy's speech about the former renters.

  Sandy stopped speaking and tapped her red-painted fingernails against the folder she held. “This may sound strange, but it's like the house has been waiting for you to arrive.”

  Deborah wiped her hand across the sink and glanced around the small bathroom, a smile hovering over her mouth. “I've…I've never been on my own before,” she admitted quietly.

  Sandy gave her a sympathetic look and patted Deborah's back. Deborah shifted to the side and rocked on her heels. “When can I move in?”

  “The owner is very flexible and anxious for someone to move in. I don't see why you can't have the keys by Sunday, or Monday the latest. All I need is a three-month deposit and signing a lease for six months.”

  Deborah calculated the cost in her head. Six months would work perfectly for her in case she had to leave suddenly if Genevieve—

  Stop thinking about her!

  “Sharon?” Sandy asked in concern and touched her shoulder.

  This time Deborah didn't flinch from her touch. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts for a moment there. The deposit and lease shouldn't be a problem. Also, would it be too much of a problem if I met the owner and asked them any questions I might have?”

  “The owner would love to answer any questions you have.” Sandy's lips twitched in humor.

  Deborah walked out into the hall and started down the stairs. “Why do I have the feeling you going to tell me the owner is one of your relatives?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Actually, the owner is me,” Sandy replied.

  Deborah stopped mid-step and started laughing. Sandy joined in and afterward they sat at the kitchen table and went over paperwork and contracts Deborah would sign.

  * * * *

  Renting a house was the third biggest decision Deborah ever made. The second was becoming a nurse, and the first was marrying Gen. Deborah was the type who always thought long and hard before doing something so drastic, but her failed marriage had been the exception. The moment Gen had kissed her outside her dying mother's room, one month after she started working for her, she'd wanted Gen and didn't think of the consequences.

  How was she to know by doing just that, she'd be the one damaged in the process? But she'd survived, even with both physical and internal bruises. Now she was in middle of her new home that was all hers for the next six months. Since she'd never rented a property before, she thought it would be more difficult, expecting Sandy to run an intense background check. But she didn't, and even bypassed a few other steps when Deborah said she was trying to start over aga
in after going through a bad relationship, and that she didn't want to be found. Sandy didn't even bat an eyelash, and the only thing she expected from Deborah was the money up front. In less than forty-eight hours, Deborah had the keys.

  Grabbing her suitcase, Deborah climbed the stairs and walked into the bedroom. Instead of putting her things away in the drawers or closet, she pushed aside the curtains and opened both windows. The smell of freshly cut grass and a warm breeze entered the room. A dog barked somewhere in the vicinity and she smiled at the thought of possibly owning her own dog.

  “I can't believe I'm standing in my own house!” Deborah covered her mouth and squealed against her palms. She may just be renting, and the house wasn't in her name, but it was good enough for her.

  Mom would love it here. Deborah sat down on the bed, dust floating up around her as she thought about her mother, and how she wished she could send for her, but couldn't because of the danger. If only she could make one phone call to make certain her Mom was still alive and Gen hadn't gotten to her—

  Ding dong.

  Deborah jumped up from the bed and peeked outside the window. A white truck parked in front of her house. Her mattress had finally arrived! Clapping softly, she ran out of the room to welcome the men in.

  Tonight she'd be sleeping in her own bed all by herself and wouldn't have to share it with anyone else.

  Chapter Ten

  Deborah put the rest of the glasses and dishes away in her newly cleaned kitchen. After her mattress had been brought in, she spent most of the morning cleaning and setting up the kitchen. She was grimy and sweaty, but didn't care. Next she'd tackle the bathroom. After she was done in there, she would reward herself with a nice soak in the tub.

  “There are just not enough hours in the day,” Deborah grumbled as she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. The breeze through the window over the sink didn't do much to cool her. If she still had her long hair instead of her short cut, she'd be sweltering by now. With another swipe over her forehead and a back bend, she grabbed her bucket full of dirty, murky water and carried it outside near the back where she threw it onto the grass. She fisted her hands on her hips as she looked up at the sky. A few white puffy clouds floated by. Breathing in deeply, Deborah stepped off the rickety steps and scuffed her sneaker in a crack as she thought over the various cleaning supplies she would need. The process of cleaning the house would take days, if not an entire week. When Sandy said she'd have a cleaning crew come in, Deborah shot that idea down. She wanted to do the cleaning by herself—needed to do it.

  Deborah snorted silently at the amount of cleaning she still had to tackle and went over to the garage shed-type structure she couldn't wait to paint. She lifted up on her toes to look through the darkened, dusty windows. Patting her pockets for the keys, she groaned, only just realizing she left them on the kitchen counter. Turning around to go back into the house, she froze when she heard an angry growl.

  Less than five feet in front of her a black Rottweiler, with its ears back and nostrils flaring, snarled at her. Deborah took a step back with her hands out in front as the rabid-looking dog stalked her. When her back met the garage door, a whimper left her mouth.

  “Ni-nice doggy. Where'd you come from?” she asked the creature in a soothing voice to not upset it any more.

  The dog let out a sharp bark and scurried over to her. Its nose brushed over the top of her thighs, venturing toward her crotch.

  “Hey!” Deborah yelped as the dog molested her. She was ready to make a run for it, but the fear of being mauled and having her head torn off froze her in her tracks.

  The dog barked again, and when it landed back on its haunches, it released a low rumble from deep within in its mouth.

  “Help me.” Deborah's throat closed up and she closed her eyes, praying the demon dog would get bored and leave.

  “Rotquel! Get over here now!”

  Rotquel? What the…Deborah opened one eye as the dog lifted its head upon hearing the voice. Its tongue flapped out of its mouth as it trotted over to a woman standing in middle of the driveway.

  Deborah's legs trembled and she slid down on her butt as she waited for her racing heart to calm down. Not only was she completely covered in sweat, but her bladder was begging her to empty it.

  “Good girl.” The woman with the bright red hair whom Deborah had met days ago in the drugstore, knelt down and gave the evil dog a hug. Her hair, Deborah noticed, was now in a more subdued braid.

  When Deborah finally caught her breath, she rested her arms over her knees and glared at the duo, who continued to ignore her. “I thought dogs like that needed to be on a leash. That dog gave me the scare of my life.”

  The woman—Bridgette stood up and patted her demon dog on the head. The creature lifted her leg and licked at a spot that had Deborah turning away from in disgust.

  “I'm sorry about Rotquel frightening you. She got away from me, a first for her since she's always by my side when we go for our midday run.” Bridgette came up to Deborah and blocked the sun, holding out her hand for her to take. “I guess she wanted to meet our new neighbor.”

  Deborah got up without her help. She wiped off her butt and did a quick scan of Bridgette, who wore running sneakers, gray cotton shorts, and a well-worn T-shirt. Her face was red, a healthy glow. Deborah bit her tongue, surprised her neighbor ran, seeing as she had too many curves to be considered athletically fit—

  Wait. They were neighbors?

  “Did I hear you right? You're my neighbor?” Deborah asked, eyeing the dog called Rotquel. I must be hearing things. It has to be the heat.

  “Yup.” Bridgette smiled broadly and finally lowered her hand, not looking out of joint at Deborah for not taking it. “I live in the house right across from yours. My Aunt Sandy found you your new place.” Bridgette motioned around them.

  “Are you kidding me? You two are related?” Deborah asked in surprise.

  “Yup again. You'll be tripping over Woodberrys soon enough. You'll eventually meet my brothers, parents, and rest of the clan,” Bridgette said proudly, jutting out her chest.

  Deborah took a quick peek at Bridgette's chest, then back up at her face. Bridgette's smile grew and she glanced down at her T-shirt, much the same as Deborah did to her. Her cheeks grew warm and when she crossed her arms, her nipples poked out.

  “Must be nice to have such a…big family,” Deborah mumbled and brushed a hand over her damp head. “Listen, I'm pretty busy right now—”

  “Woof!”

  Deborah backed away when Bridgette's dog from hell tried moving in between them.

  “Rotquel, heel,” Bridgette ordered and the dog did as she was told.

  “What did you call her? Rockette, like the dancers in Manhattan?”

  Bridgette placed her hands on her hips and chuckled. “It's Rotquel. I've had her for five years. At first she was named Raquel, but then my brother Bryan though he'd be funny and started calling her Rotquel because she's a Rottweiler. It stuck. Rotquel hasn't answered to anything else in years. Right, girl?” Bridgette patted the top of Rotquel's head and was rewarded with a loud bark and a swipe across her hand with a tongue.

  “I'm surprised you don't keep hand sanitizer with you at all times, seeing as your dog has the unsanitary habit of licking your flesh—I mean skin.” Deborah swiftly corrected herself. Bridgette had more than enough abundant flesh she couldn't stop eyeing.

  Bridgette released a girlish laugh and titled her head. “That's quite a sense of humor you got there.”

  “Glad you think I'm funny. I can't crack a joke to save my life,” Deborah admitted.

  “Who told you that?” Bridgette's expression turned into a more inquisitive one.

  Not going there. “There are too many people to list.” Deborah said lightly, although only one had ever criticized her.

  “If you say so.”

  Deborah wiped her arm over her forehead, feeling like she had been in a sauna, while Bridgette acted as if she wasn't bot
hered by the humidity in the least.

  “Before I forget, I should apologize for what I did to you at the drugstore the other day. It was rude of me and I didn't think before I spoke. That's one of the quirks I have,” Bridgette confessed as she pushed a few stray hairs behind her ears.

  “There's no need for you to feel bad. I was cranky because of, well, you know. And where I moved from, not too many people go out of their way to be as helpful as you were,” Deborah said and lowered her arms to her sides. She glanced down at her feet as Bridgette stared too closely at her.

  “That's a relief! I'd hate to think you would be upset with me.” Bridgette lowered her voice. “I just admitted another unfortunate quirk about me.”

  What is with her and her quirks? Deborah found herself moving in closer and when Bridgette's tongue came out and swiped over her bottom lip, Deborah's nipples twitched. She moved back and shook her head. “I take it when you mean quirk, you mean a fault?”

  Bridgette nodded her head. “Exactly. I hate saying someone has a fault. It sounds so harsh. Saying I have a quirk sounds kinder, don't you think?”

  Deborah found herself speechless. Bridgette's seemingly sunny disposition and naivete was both refreshing and, in a way, disturbing to Deborah. When was the last time she met someone so open and honest without wanting anything in return?

  “Either you don't know what to make of me or the heat has stolen your speech. I'd like to think it's the humidity and not my quaint personality.” Bridgette tapped her chin as she began to scrutinize her again.

  Deborah opened her mouth to ask what Bridgette's deal was with her constant staring when Bridgette tugged on the collar of her shirt and fanned her face with her hand. “Jeez, it sure is hot today. I bet you don't even have a fan or air conditioner hooked up yet. My house is nice and cool. Why don't you take a break from moving in and come over to my house for some homemade lemon meringue pie and lemonade? I used the lemons straight from the tree in my backyard,” Bridge whispered, as if she was sharing a secret. “I'll have you know my pie has won the country fair three years straight.”