and a little anger twinkled around the edges. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Hey, I just call ’em like I see ’em.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You don’t know anything about me.”
“No, I don’t know a lot about you, but I’d bet my last dime you don’t have a boyfriend or a husband at home. Maybe a girlfriend or a wife, but not a boyfriend or a husband. No.”
Erica stood for several seconds with her mouth hanging open in disbelief, the expression so comical it made Abby bark out a laugh.
“Oh, please. Don’t look so shocked. You pinged my gaydar the second I saw you in the airport.”
Still at a loss for words, Erica just shook her head.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. There are plenty of extra blankets in that drawer Corinne pointed out. You can have the bed. I’ll be just fine on the loveseat.”
“What—” Erica cleared her throat. “What caused the pinging?” At Abby’s squint, she said, “I’m curious as to why you think you can label me so easily.”
With a shrug—and trying hard to hide a smirk of victory—Abby explained her reasoning. “Straight women love their clothes and heels, their makeup and pretty hairstyles. Love them. You don’t. You like them okay, but you don’t love them. That was my first clue.”
“Well, that’s a gross overgeneralization.”
“And yet, totally true.”
“Hey, I paid a lot of money for this suit and these shoes.” Erica pulled her heels out of her bag and held them up as if they were the key evidence in a murder trial. “And I look damn good in them.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t nice, that they weren’t expensive. And I didn’t say you don’t look fabulous in them. I said you don’t love them. You’re a little uncomfortable in them and some of us can see that. It’s no big deal. I hate them, too.”
“I don’t hate them.” Indignation crept into Erica’s voice, into her face, etching lines across her forehead.
“Okay. Okay.” Abby held up her hands in surrender. “Whatever.”
“What was the other one?”
“What?”
“You said my clothes were your first clue. What was the other one?”
“In the airport, you never once checked out a guy. And there were a lot of them there, but you never showed even an ounce of interest. Not once.”
“How would you know that? You were busy chatting up every person with a pulse.”
“And that was my third clue.” Abby’s victorious grin spread into a full-blown smile. “While you were pinging my gaydar, I was pinging yours.”
“You were not.” Erica grabbed her bags, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door. Hard.
Abby flopped onto the bed and tucked her hands behind her head. “I notice you didn’t deny actually having gaydar,” she mumbled, still grinning.
Half an hour later, Abby was dozing, her night of next to no sleep finally catching up with her. She jerked awake when the bathroom door opened, sending the scent of soap and citrus into the room, and tried not to let her jaw drop onto the floor.
Rude or not, uptight or not, Erica’s beauty was not to be denied and the simplicity of her clothing made her look only more delectable. The Capri-length black workout pants looked made for her, snug against her body and accentuating what Abby was certain was one of her best features: her behind. The white T-shirt with cap sleeves was plain and understated and the red hair was still damp, wavy and falling to her shoulders. Bare feet with toes polished red topped off what was one of the sexiest visions Abby had ever seen. Not bad for Fashion by Walmart. Not bad at all. Erica glanced her way, drying the ends of her hair with a peach towel.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Abby replied as she sat up. “How was your shower?”
“Heavenly.” Erica stood for a moment and nibbled the inside of her lip as if organizing her thoughts. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so snippy. I’m just tired and I’d like to go home, you
“Hey, I just call ’em like I see ’em.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You don’t know anything about me.”
“No, I don’t know a lot about you, but I’d bet my last dime you don’t have a boyfriend or a husband at home. Maybe a girlfriend or a wife, but not a boyfriend or a husband. No.”
Erica stood for several seconds with her mouth hanging open in disbelief, the expression so comical it made Abby bark out a laugh.
“Oh, please. Don’t look so shocked. You pinged my gaydar the second I saw you in the airport.”
Still at a loss for words, Erica just shook her head.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. There are plenty of extra blankets in that drawer Corinne pointed out. You can have the bed. I’ll be just fine on the loveseat.”
“What—” Erica cleared her throat. “What caused the pinging?” At Abby’s squint, she said, “I’m curious as to why you think you can label me so easily.”
With a shrug—and trying hard to hide a smirk of victory—Abby explained her reasoning. “Straight women love their clothes and heels, their makeup and pretty hairstyles. Love them. You don’t. You like them okay, but you don’t love them. That was my first clue.”
“Well, that’s a gross overgeneralization.”
“And yet, totally true.”
“Hey, I paid a lot of money for this suit and these shoes.” Erica pulled her heels out of her bag and held them up as if they were the key evidence in a murder trial. “And I look damn good in them.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t nice, that they weren’t expensive. And I didn’t say you don’t look fabulous in them. I said you don’t love them. You’re a little uncomfortable in them and some of us can see that. It’s no big deal. I hate them, too.”
“I don’t hate them.” Indignation crept into Erica’s voice, into her face, etching lines across her forehead.
“Okay. Okay.” Abby held up her hands in surrender. “Whatever.”
“What was the other one?”
“What?”
“You said my clothes were your first clue. What was the other one?”
“In the airport, you never once checked out a guy. And there were a lot of them there, but you never showed even an ounce of interest. Not once.”
“How would you know that? You were busy chatting up every person with a pulse.”
“And that was my third clue.” Abby’s victorious grin spread into a full-blown smile. “While you were pinging my gaydar, I was pinging yours.”
“You were not.” Erica grabbed her bags, stormed into the bathroom, and slammed the door. Hard.
Abby flopped onto the bed and tucked her hands behind her head. “I notice you didn’t deny actually having gaydar,” she mumbled, still grinning.
Half an hour later, Abby was dozing, her night of next to no sleep finally catching up with her. She jerked awake when the bathroom door opened, sending the scent of soap and citrus into the room, and tried not to let her jaw drop onto the floor.
Rude or not, uptight or not, Erica’s beauty was not to be denied and the simplicity of her clothing made her look only more delectable. The Capri-length black workout pants looked made for her, snug against her body and accentuating what Abby was certain was one of her best features: her behind. The white T-shirt with cap sleeves was plain and understated and the red hair was still damp, wavy and falling to her shoulders. Bare feet with toes polished red topped off what was one of the sexiest visions Abby had ever seen. Not bad for Fashion by Walmart. Not bad at all. Erica glanced her way, drying the ends of her hair with a peach towel.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Abby replied as she sat up. “How was your shower?”
“Heavenly.” Erica stood for a moment and nibbled the inside of her lip as if organizing her thoughts. “Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so snippy. I’m just tired and I’d like to go home, you
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