“I feel as if I landed into another time. I’m expecting a horse and carriage to drive down the street and men to tip their hats saying, ‘Good morning, neighbor!’”
“Where you moved from isn’t as friendly?” She got up from the table and took their plates.
“Not really. The people are more superficial and keep to themselves. My mom told me when she lived in Woodberry—”
She turned away from the sink when Sharon stopped speaking. Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head. Her hands were also clenched on the table.
“Hey, are you okay?” She gently patted Sharon’s shoulder.
Sharon flinched but didn’t push her hand away and opened her eyes. “Don’t mind me. I kind of have that same quirk you have where I don’t think before I speak.”
She found Sharon’s explanation odd, but let it pass. Apparently she didn’t want her to know her mother had lived in Woodberry Creek.
“It happens, Sharon. Do you prefer Sharon or do you go by some other nickname? My brother, Bryan, he’s a lieutenant here, loves calling me Red. My younger brother, Preston, who’s away at college, calls me Ridge. When he was little he couldn’t say the letter B correctly and could only say Ridgette. Soon he shortened it to Ridge.”
Sharon glanced out the kitchen window. “I’ve had some nicknames, but they never stuck for long or they’ve sounded too silly. Someone once close to me had her own pet nickname for me, but I hated it. I guess there’s not much you can do with the name of Sharon.” She shrugged and looked back up at her.
She pulled her hand away, not realizing she’d left it on top of Sharon’s shoulder for so long. At least some progress had been made between them, and Sharon didn’t act uncomfortable at her touch. She went to the sink to put the dishes away, the question on the tip of her tongue about who the person was and the nickname given to Sharon, when her eyes caught the flier hanging up on her refrigerator door.
“You do know that all new residents must take a day to meet all the townspeople. It’s an unwritten rule here in Woodberry Creek.” She purposely made her voice light as if what she was saying was fact. She grabbed the flier and laid it on the table. Sharon picked it up and scanned the page.
“Oh really? I wasn’t aware it’s expected of me to go to the Fourth of July town barbeque and dance this weekend,” Sharon said, her voice just as airy as hers.
She tilted up her chin to give Sharon a haughty stare. “Why, yes, my good woman, you must attend. The day is filled with craft tables, amazing sidewalks sales, and enough food to have you rolling down the street from the amount you eat. Before the fireworks display, there’s dancing in the town square. It’s all a real hoot.”
“A hoot?” Sharon’s lips trembled as if holding back her laughter. Bridgette didn’t care and giggled. Sharon finally released her own. The kitchen filled with their joy, and she longed to wrap her arms around Sharon and give her a big hug—and a kiss to see if she tasted as sweet as Bridgette believed.
When Sharon stopped laughing, she rose from her chair. She tilted her face back, wishing she was a few inches taller so her mouth would be in perfect alignment with Sharon’s. But a part of her didn’t mind being so petite because then Sharon could pull her in a tight embrace. She’d press a kiss to her jaw and move up higher until their lips met and their tongues found one another until she was backed into the kitchen wall, her shirt riding up and Sharon’s hands cupping her breasts—
“Bridgette?”
She blinked as Sharon waved a hand in front of her face. She palmed her heated cheeks and rubbed her thighs together, aroused by her sudden fantasy. How embarrassing!
“Sorry, I zoned out. Busy thinking about all that cotton candy I can’t wait to eat on Saturday.” She gave Sharon a light punch on her arm to release the tension.
She exhaled slowly when Sharon’s lips twitched in humor. Her new friend was unaware of the brief erotic daydream Bridgette had been lost in.
“I should get back to my house. I have so much to do before it gets dark. I have plans to clean my bathroom so I can soak in the tub.”
“A bath would be nice,” she said lamely, a vision of a wet, naked Sharon rubbing a sponge on her breasts and those nipples of hers that had stayed in hard points from the moment she entered her house. In the future—possibly the near future, when Sharon was more at ease and could trust her, she’d have them in her mouth to nibble on.
“Yes, it would.” Sharon stepped back. “Thanks so much for the afternoon snack. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
She followed Sharon to the front door. Rotquel jumped up from the couch and came over to sniff Sharon’s hand.
“We’ll see each other Saturday at the barbeque. I can always stop by and see if you’re free. We can go together.” She hoped she didn’t sound too needy.
Sharon scratched Rotquel around the ears. “Maybe, if I’m not too busy.” With a wave, she opened the door and left.
She gave Rotquel a light pat on her head. She watched Sharon cross the street and disappear in the back of her house. The wind had picked up and gray clouds formed in the sky, a possibility of rain later in the day.
She closed her door and leaned against it as she fanned her face even though it was cool from the central air. She hoped the storm wasn’t a sign of things to come in the newly formed friendship she hoped would turn to something more between her and the cautious Sharon Wade.
* * * *
By the time Deborah finished cleaning the bathroom and ate her dinner of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, she was exhausted. Afraid she’d fall asleep in the bath, she showered and fell into bed just as the rain started. Her eyes drifted closed as the rain pounded on the roof. Along with the fan moving above her head and the breeze coming in from the open window, she wasn’t hot, although the creaking of the house and her overactive imagination made her open her eyes and listen for anyone who tried to break in. A few times, she sat up and crawled to the end of the bed to look out the window. No suspicious cars or unmarked vans were parked out front.
She settled back down, and a flash of lightning lit up the room.
Maybe I should get a dog for protection?
She rolled on her back as she thought about Rotquel, glad she’d been mistaken about the dog. She no longer thought of her as a demon, but more as an angel, just like her owner.
Bridgette’s sparkling face popped up in her head, and she spread her legs apart. Her white tank top rode up until her stomach was uncovered, and she circled a finger around her belly button. She moaned as her fingers tickled her stomach, moving to her navel and under the waistband of her bikini briefs.
Her once-waxed mound had become bushier since she ran away. She fingered her curls, a damp musk forming over them. Getting waxed had been more of a punishment than a pleasure, one she’d never do again since she had been the one who forced her to do it.