“I suppose I can take a short break. It wouldn’t help if I passed out from the heat since I’ve been so busy cleaning.”
Bridgette got to her feet and lightly clapped. “Great. Follow me.”
“Wait a minute,” she said to Bridgette’s back as she started to walk away.
“Yes?” Bridgette stopped and twisted to look at her.
“I must smell rank and should wash up first. Plus I need to lock up the house.”
“I just ran for forty minutes, so you can imagine what I must smell like. Also, there’s no need for you to lock up anything. We’re going across the street.”
“Um, where I come from—”
“Sharon, you’re in Woodberry Creek now. There’s no need to worry someone might sneak into your house and steal your things. It’s okay. Trust me.”
“All right,” she conceded. As they walked to the end of the driveway, she almost tripped when she came to the unpleasant conclusion about something. A nervous fluttering in her stomach grew, and she almost ran into her house regardless if she was overheated or not. “I never told you my name.”
Bridgette’s lips twitched and she winked. “Let’s just say I have my ways. I’m too nosy for my own good sometimes.”
“Another quirk of yours?” She wondered what else Bridgette might know about her. Maybe it was better if she used more caution where this adorable redhead was concerned.
“Yup,” Bridgette responded happily. “I’ll explain everything while we eat so you don’t think I’m a stalker.”
She continued walking, anxious to learn what she could about Bridgette Woodberry in case Bridgette’s inquisitive nature got out of hand and she would have to look elsewhere to live—and to hide.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As soon as Sharon took a bite of her lemon meringue pie, Bridgette knew she’d want more. Sharon didn’t disappoint, and, after taking a long sip of her lemonade, she shyly asked for another small piece.
She planned on giving Sharon the rest of the pie as a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift. And the hungry way Sharon ate her slice, as if she hadn’t eaten anything so tasty in such a long time, made her want to cook something more substantial for her new neighbor.
Her new neighbor also gave off a vibe, more like a flashing signal that said do not touch.
Perhaps it was the white skin of her left tanned ring finger that led her to believe Sharon had just ended her marriage. She knew from experience with the married men who’d hit on her, and their ring finger sans the wedding ring they slipped off in the hopes of getting laid. As if she would ever date a married man, or even a single man for that matter. At least the women she’d gone out with were honest with what they wanted from her and didn’t lie about someone waiting for them at home.
“You’re staring at me.” Sharon patted her mouth with a paper napkin and looked around the room, barely meeting her eye.
She had a bad habit of staring at people to the point they became uncomfortable. She loved watching the angles of faces and the slope of a person’s shoulders, especially a woman like Sharon, who had wonderful shoulders but too thin from the way her clavicle stuck out.
“Sorry.” She shrugged, finishing off her slice and reaching down to give Rotquel a pat on the head. Rotquel rested her chin on her knee and wagged her tail. “I guess you could say it’s one of my—”
“Quirks?” Sharon lifted her hands as if she was going to pull back her hair. When she met the sides of her head, she dropped them on the table.
“You could say that.” She smiled lightly. “I love watching people, mainly their faces. I’m an artist, and my specialty is drawing and painting portraits.”
“I had a suspicion you had some artistic ability from the décor of your house and the homemade stenciling on the walls here.” Sharon indicated the intricate leafy design Bridgette painted that really brought excitement and flavor to the room.
“I’m glad you noticed. The first thing I painted was the kitchen, with my own personal flair,” she replied, pleased. “Do you enjoy painting?”
Sharon blinked a few times before responding. “I-I’m a freelance graphic artist and create websites for people and businesses. I work from home.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling filled her stomach. A fellow artist. What a happy coincidence! She’s modest about it. How cute. “That’s lovely! Maybe we can compare our work sometime. I wish I could draw and paint full-time, but it’s nearly not enough income. I’m a first-grade schoolteacher to pay the bills.”
Sharon mumbled a response she didn’t catch. She gave Rotquel a piece of her leftover pie crust. The dog gulped it down and then left her to see Sharon.
Sharon looked ready to vault up from her chair when Rotquel sniffed her arm then set her chin on her knee. She was ready to order Rotquel to go lie down someplace else, but Sharon surprised her by petting her gently. Rotquel responded by thumping her tail on the floor and releasing a content exhale.
“Rotquel may seem scary at first, but she’s a friendly girl and loves people. You’ve made quite the impression on her.” And on me, with your haunting eyes and badly cut short hair. What has happened to you? She continued to view Sharon covertly, ignoring the need to wrap her arms around her new neighbor and promise her everything would be all right.
“I’ve never been around many dogs before, so I panicked.” Sharon looked away from Rotquel and at Bridgette, meeting her eyes for a beat, then glancing at the table. “I’ve jumped at shadows too many times.”
“I found out your name from my aunt Maura,” she blurted out, trying to put Sharon more at ease. She’d hate to think Sharon wanted to keep her distance from her because she was prying. From the moment she met her at Meede’s, she wanted to know more about her. It had been so long since a woman had made such an impression.
Sharon smiled, swiping a finger on her plate and pushing her finger in her mouth to suck away the leftover cream. She swallowed at Sharon’s seemingly innocent yet seductive action. Sweat trickled down her back, and she quickly crossed one leg over the other to stop any possible tingling below.
“I figured that out. You remind me of your aunt,” Sharon said.
“Because she asks a million questions and won’t give up until she gets what she wants?”
Sharon laughed and folded her arms on the table. Rotquel moved away from her lap and left the room. “In that sense, yes. But she was also very kind and considerate to me.”
When Sharon gave her another timid smile, the heat building in between her thighs continued to grow.
“This may sound like I’m tooting my own horn, but I go out of my way to make others feel like they belong. Most of my family is like that. Actually, everyone in Woodberry Creek is very sweet. Once you’re a resident here, you’re considered family.”