Chapter 7
LILA
I’m buzzing from the wine and feeling pretty good when my friends leave after book club. Amos is gone for the night, and my plan is to lock myself in my room and get some of my underwear ready to ship tomorrow.
Sutton steps into the hall fresh from the shower. It’s no wonder my friends tease me about him. Any woman living in close quarters with a guy who looks like him would be tempted. Except for me.
He’s dressed only in loose sweatpants, his hair damp. The swelling around his eye has gone down a lot, leaving only two small welts on his cheek. He picks up the bottle of Benadryl and pops another one, washing it down with a large swallow of beer.
“You aren’t supposed to drink alcohol with antihistamines, dumbass,” I sigh, plucking the bottle out of his hand. “Do you want to choke to death in your sleep?”
The instant goofy smile on his face says he’s already feeling the effects. He bats his eyes. “You take such good care of me.”
My giggle is a hundred percent the wine’s fault. “I don’t know what mental disorder you have, but it should be named after you.”
He watches as I reach to open the cabinet above the refrigerator, and grins when my fingers barely reach the bottom edge of the door. It swings open but I can’t reach the cookies I’m after. “Aw, do you need uppies?”
The only response I have for him is a glare while I drag a chair over to stand on.
“Why do you use that cabinet if you can’t reach it?” he asks, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I don’t usually, but I didn’t want you or Amos to eat all my favorite cookies.”
“So you hid them in a cabinet we can reach, but you can’t? Solid plan.”
He isn’t wrong and it’s annoying. “They were hidden behind the mixing bowls for days.” I hold up the untouched package. “Clearly it worked.”
He wavers a little on his feet. I know he only had two beers but apparently he doesn’t handle antihistamines any better than I do. “Will you go sit down or something?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I apologize for being too subtle. Go away.”
His grin only grows. “It will cost you exactly two cookies.” He holds out his hand, palm facing up.
I don’t mind sharing them, but the urge to smash one into his hand is almost irresistible. There are other things for me to get done tonight that don’t include arguing with him. I drop two cookies in his hand and take the rest of the bag with me.
“Thank you, Delilah,” he calls out as I close my bedroom door.
This time I make sure my door is locked.
I’m not taking pictures or video tonight, but I still don’t need him barging in.
The underwear I’ve worn throughout the week are stored in individual plastic bags and tucked into a small dresser in my closet, where the rest of my supplies are kept.
I’ve already taken the pictures of me wearing them—showing only from my navel down—so all I have to do is get them packaged and labeled then email the clients.
Each one gets slid into a lacy pouch, that’s then sealed in a plastic bag.
The plain padded envelopes are discreet, for my benefit and theirs.
The trip to the post office would be embarrassing if they weren’t.
With each one, I send the client a message that shows the picture of me wearing them, and a picture of them in the lace bag with a message that they’re on their way.
It only takes me about half an hour to get them all ready to go. The trailer is quiet. Sutton probably went to bed. I’m not tired since I’ve been sleeping late the last few days so I grab my laptop and head for the living room.
Sutton is asleep alright, but he didn’t make it to his bed. He’s lying in the recliner with Dusty curled up beside his leg. Neither of them budge while I turn off the TV, put some music on, and get comfortable on the couch.
Third Place is my favorite game. It’s a life simulation game where you have a limited amount of control over the people you create.
They’re called Smalls, and you can choose their interests, attitudes, morals, and values.
When you’re playing, you can tell them what to do, but they also have free will to do whatever they want in between the orders you give them, which creates all kinds of chaos. That’s what makes it fun.
One of the Smalls I created a long time ago often fills his entire house with random objects. So far, it’s been umbrellas, lamps, and my favorite, stray cats. I solved that one by releasing a few dogs in there to clear them out.
I’ve been building a new neighborhood with the intention of inviting in some other random Smalls to help populate it. It’s a street of nice houses that ends in a cul-de-sac. The plan is to only control my Small occasionally, and set the rest loose to see what happens naturally.
I have a few new join requests since I played last time.
The first comes from a player who wants to add three characters, a man called Stone, and two women, Jade and Crystal, who all seem fine when I check their bios.
The other is another man called One Night Standrew.
His bio shows he’s a man slut and the name alone wins me over.
I want a typical neighborhood and what neighborhood doesn’t have at least one guy like that?
Requests approved. The new residents get moved into the houses I assign them and I settle in to play.
About an hour into my game, I look up to see Sutton staring at me.
At least, I think he is. His eyes are open to slits when he mumbles, “Damn it. Why am I dreaming about you again?” He shifts around in the recliner, closes his eyes, and goes still.
Okay. He’s out of it and talking in his sleep. As soon as I return to the game, he speaks again. “So sexy. I could make you come so good, Lila.” My head jerks up but he hasn’t opened his eyes and his words are followed by a snore.
What the fuck? Is he over there having a sex dream about me? I heard my name as clear as day. His bare chest rises and falls evenly, his hand resting on his abdomen. God, he’s all lean muscle. My gaze travels down a bit to the clear V of his hips above the low waistband of the sweats.
I wonder…
No. No, I do not. I don’t wonder a damn thing about him. Am I ovulating? Is that what this is? The way he said it, though. I could make you come so good, Lila. It turned me on, there’s no denying it. What a terrible way to find out I have voice activated genitals.
I’m back in my right mind by the next morning. Sutton is still asleep in the recliner while I make some coffee, but he opens his eyes when I sit down on the couch. Blinking against the sunlight pouring through the windows, he glances around.
“Shit. Did you roofie me? I didn’t mean to sleep in here.” His voice is dry and rough. He sits up and rubs his face, then looks down. “At least my pants are still on.”
“Don’t worry. Louise was very gentle.”
“Ha. Very funny.”
Amos comes through the front door, looking rougher than Sutton. “Those teenage girls next door are mean. They yelled from the porch that I give off little spoon vibes. I don’t even know what that means.”
“It doesn’t sound like a compliment,” Sutton laughs.
“You know, for someone who needed a place to live, you’re never here,” I remark, setting my cup on the end table.
“I’m a man in high demand, what can I say?” Amos grabs a cup of coffee from the kitchen and joins us.
“Did your date go well?” Sutton asks.
“Sure did. I’m going to see her again tonight.”
“Who is she and what’s wrong with her?” I tease.
“Remember Mandy Halm from high school?”
The name sounds familiar. “Redhead? Cheerleader?”
“That’s her. We dated for a little while my freshman year.” He smirks as he sips his coffee. “She said I’m the one who got away.”
“From the cops or a mental ward?” He tosses a throw pillow at me. “How do you like the new job?”
“It’s a job.” He shrugs and sits back. “I spend the whole time packing boxes but they let us wear headphones at least. I don’t hate it.”
I’m glad to hear it. Maybe he’ll stick with this one.
My phone rings with a call from my mom. I’m in a pretty good mood right now and it’ll likely be spoiled if I answer.
After I let it go to voicemail, Amos’s phone starts ringing.
That’s who she really wants to talk about anyway, so let him answer.
“It’s your turn to talk to her. I’m not here.”
He doesn’t hesitate to pick up. “Hey Mom.” A grin grows on his face as he looks at me. “You tried Lila first, huh?”
He better not.
“No, she’s not here. I think she’s out with a friend. How are you doing?” He walks down the hall to his room to finish the call.
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my day today, but I’m in no hurry to get started.
Sutton gets up and goes to the kitchen, announcing, “I need muffins.” He washes his hands and starts pulling out ingredients.
“You’re going to bake muffins?”
“I like to bake. Plus Mom sent a bunch of blackberries home with me.”
Sutton does not seem like a guy who would enjoy any kind of domestic hobby. It doesn’t fit with his tough, road worker image. The expression on my face must show some doubt.
“Are you judging me, Delilah?”
Why am I watching him anyway? “For so many things, but not baking.”
He leans against the cabinet with a grin, crossing his arms. “Well, Ms. Critical, I’ve never been suspended from a job. What did you do?”
And now I want to shove his head in that preheated oven. It’s electric so he wouldn’t die but I bet it’d still be satisfying. “None of your business.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you knew how to misbehave.”
“You’re impressed? That’s such a relief. You have no idea how much time I spend sitting around hoping to impress you. It’s exhausting.”
“I’ll just make up my own explanation then.
” He turns back to stir the ingredients in the mixing bowl.
“You kept hitting on a hot dad when he dropped off his kids and he didn’t like it.
” Before I can say anything, he continues.
“No, there’s no man who wouldn’t like that.
Maybe you got into an argument with one of the parents and shredded them with that smart mouth. ”
“Why do you assume it has something to do with a parent?” I ask, stealing a blackberry from the bowl before he dumps them into the batter.
“That’s true. It could’ve been one of the kids.” He turns to me with his mouth open and drops his voice to a hush. “Oh my god, did you drop kick a toddler?”
“No, but I’m about to.” Amos returns in time to hear me explain.
“Remember the night I had to drive a kid to the hospital to meet his mom because she couldn’t pick him up?
That was against policy. So I get some time off.
” My shrug tries to disguise how angry I still feel about the injustice of that.
He turns to stare at me. “That’s bullshit. What were you supposed to do?”
“Call and report his mother for abandonment, apparently. It doesn’t matter. The manager is a nightmare.”
“Suspended for doing something kind. That sucks. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere for a moment before he adds, “I’m also disappointed. I thought maybe you hit someone.”
“Stick around, the day is young.”