Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(50)

“Yeah,” he said, his face an inch away. “It’s my Sadie.”

“What are you talking about?” I breathed.

“I thought she slipped away. You were acting like Stepford Sadie.”

“Stepford Sadie?”

He kept smiling. “Yeah.”

My back went straight and my confused stare turned into an annoyed stare.

I mean, really! Stepford Sadie?

“I’m not Stepford Sadie. I’m Ice Princess Sadie,” I informed him because, well, he should get it right!

“Whatever. Just as long as she’s gone,” he muttered, touched his mouth to mine again then he was gone.

I stared at the door as it swished closed behind him.

In a flash, Ralphie was by my side. “He… is… lush,” Ralphie breathed. “I wanna take a bite outta him. Dee-licious.”

I decided immediately I didn’t want to talk about Hector being lush and I definitely didn’t want to talk about taking a bite out of him.

“My life is out-of-control,” I told the door.

Without hesitation Ralphie did the same move Hector had that morning, except different, less possessive and protective, just as sweet. His arm went around my shoulders and he pulled me into his side and partially to his front.

“Sweets? My advice?” he asked.

I put my head to his shoulder, my arms around his waist and I nodded.

“What I can see with that man, the safety bar is locked tight, put your hands straight up and enjoy the ride.”

Oh my.

Chapter Nine

You Sleep Here Don’t You?

Sadie

“Aaahhooow,” Ralphie yawned with an exaggerated stretch. “I’m tuckered out. Time for beddie bye. Buddy, baby, you comin’ with me?”

I looked from Hector’s shoulder (where my head was resting) to the end of the couch (where Ralphie was stretching) to the armchair (where Buddy was sitting).

Then I rolled my eyes and went back to staring at the credits rolling on the TV.

Seriously, how obvious could you be?

* * * * *

Dinner went okay if you didn’t count one minor incident.

* * * * *

Buddy hadn’t just made his famous tuna and noodles. He’d set the dining room table and even lit candles. He also served his spinach salad with pumpkin oil balsamic vinaigrette before the tuna and chocolate almond torte with vanilla-essence whipped cream for dessert.

I changed out of my Queen Ice outfit and, in the two seconds between our arrival home at six-oh-five and Hector’s arrival at the house at six-oh-five-and-two-seconds, I stared at the contents of my closet trying to find a casual-dinner-at-home-with-Hector-and-my-two-gay-roommates outfit.

Impossible!

In a dither, I opted for a pair of jeans and a black camisole over which I wore a gray cardigan (well, it wasn’t just a gray cardigan, it was a gray cardigan from Anthropologie, it had a hood and wide sleeves with tiny black lace ruffles at the sleeves and around the hem). I decided, since the cardigan said more than “casual-dinner-at-home-with-Hector”, I’d go barefoot.

Barefoot was as casual as you could get.

I put my hair in a big ponytail and headed down.

Since Ralphie talked a mile a minute and Buddy wanted the lowdown on The Search for Harvey and Ricky (the lowdown was that Harvey had been snagged, Ricky was still “at large” and I kind of wished it was the other way around), I didn’t have to say much.

This continued at dinner, mostly Ralphie talking enough for everyone and, when he could get a word in edgewise, Buddy demanding details from Hector on how things would go once Ricky and Harvey were both caught.

This took a turn when somehow we got on the subject of dog sitting YoYo and Ralphie shoved me, kicking and screaming, right in middle.

“Sadie wants to watch YoYo,” Ralphie told Buddy when it was becoming clear he was losing the fight.

My head snapped up and I saw from across the table Hector’s eyes come to mine and one side of his mouth twitched.

“Sadie, is that true?” Buddy asked.

I widened my eyes at Hector in a non-verbal, “Help me!”

Hector remained silent but his mouth kept twitching.

“Sadie, tell him. You loved YoYo, didn’t you?” Ralphie prompted.

I decided to be Hector and remain silent.

“Sadie?” Now it was Buddy’s turn to prompt.

I made the new decision to extricate myself pronto. “I don’t get a say. It isn’t my house.”

This was a bad decision.

“What do you mean it isn’t your house?” Ralphie snapped.

I looked at Ralphie. Ralphie looked angry.

“Well, what I mean is –” I started.

“You sleep here, don’t you?” Ralphie asked.

“Yes, but –” I tried again.

“Your clothes are here,” Ralphie pushed.

“Yes, but, what I mean –” I kept trying.

“You shower here, put your makeup on here, watch Veronica Mars here, come home after work to, um… I don’t know? Here! Don’t you?” Ralphie pressed.

“Yes, I guess so, but –”

“You guess so?” Ralphie’s eyes had narrowed.

“Ralphie, you wanna let her talk?” Buddy cut in.

Ralphie sat back, crossed his arms on his chest and glared at me.