$4.25
$1.50
“Oooh, lord,” Terry Meyers Wilkerson said, letting out a long slow moan. Sucking in a deep breath, she gingerly slid the pillow over her head, hoping to block the glare of the early morning sunlight shining through the bedroom window. “Oh crap,” she whispered and cringed from the echo of what seemed to be an unbelievably loud and constant drip-drip of water that leaked from the showerhead in the adjacent bathroom.
Shifting slightly she finally noticed the arm thrown across her left shoulder and the leg across her left hip. She groaned pushing the arm and leg away as she rolled on to her back and pushed her hair from her face. Her head was pounding, her mouth was as dry as sand and it tasted like she had licked something too revolting to be identified.
The margaritas, she thought, and groaned again, then tried to burrow her way into the mattress.
The shift of movement from the opposite side of the bed made her groan again. Terry had been sleeping alone for almost two years. Her husband had left her and their two sons. Well, more like abandoned them for his new woman, his new child, his new life. Terry had grown accustomed to sleeping alone, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to share her bed with anyone; at least not for more than a few hours here and there. She especially didn’t want to wake to find that a testosterone-based mammal had spent the night in her bed.
“Hey.” She nudged the warm body beside her. “Hey. Wake up. What are you doing in here?”
“You said I could,” came a groggy reply.
Frowning, Terry let her mind trace the previous evening’s events. She’d had gone out for drinks and dancing at Jillian’s. She’d met someone. What was his name? Ethan, Elton, Erin? That was it, Erin. Erin was fine, with long lean legs and a killer smile. He’d spent most of the evening with Terry, listening attentively, laughing in all the right places, and gazing at her as if she had hung the stars. Until she mentioned her sons; at that point, Erin headed for the hills.
The prick.
