Read Online Over the Fence by Melanie Moreland - Free Book Online

Then I sat down and sipped on my beer. My legs felt a little wobbly and I tried to remember just how many beers I had actually consumed, losing count after four. It must have only been four—maybe five—couldn’t be six—could it?
    A few minutes later, her screen door opened and I heard her footsteps outside.
    “Nat?”
    “Hey, Chefgirl.”
    Okay, that sounded a little slurry .
    “Are you okay?”
    I felt the oddest warming sensation at the concern in her voice. No one ever worried about me anymore. “Yeah, I’m good. Better now that you’re home.”
    “Oh . . . I . . . um . . .”
    I chuckled. “I’m hungry, and I’m trying not to dig into the leftovers you gave me. Those are to make co-workers jealous and promise me huuuuge favors for tastes. Big ones. Yep.”
    Okay, definite slur.
    She giggled, and I beamed at the sound. She was home and we could spend some time together. She made me so happy.
    “Is that what you do with them?”
    “No. Unless there’s something I really want. Then I may consider a trade . . . but to be honest, it hasn’t happened yet. Nobody’s had anything remotely equal to your fucking awesome leftovers.” I smacked my hand on the table for emphasis. “Not even fucking remooootely . . . close.”
    “How many beers have you had?” She laughed, now sounding incredibly amused.
    “A few.”
    “I think more than a few . . . Still having a bad day?”
    I leaned my head back. “Nah, it’s better now. You’re home.” I grinned in the direction of her voice. “I went shopping for us.” I pointed to the top of the fence. “It’s up there.” Then I laughed, realizing she couldn’t see me pointing. Maybe I should show her. I stood up on my slightly wobbly legs, climbed the chair and moved the bags around. “Here, Kourtney. It’s here.”
    I heard her climb the ladder and I held tight to one of the rather large bags. She tugged one to her side and I watched it disappear, grinning while I waited for her to get the other. I felt the tug on the bag and held on. She tugged harder. “I think the other one is caught on something, Nat,” she called patiently.
    Smiling, I reached up and grabbed onto her hand. “Gotcha!”
    Her unexpected shout of laughter surprised me and I started laughing with her, only to sway a little before losing the grip on her hand. I tipped myself off the chair and landed on my ass on the deck, with a loud thud. I continued to laugh as I sat there, my ass now throbbing in pain.
    Kourtney stopped laughing. “Are you okay?”
    I snorted. “Well, fuck , that’s gonna leave a mark. My ass is gonna be black and blue tomorrow.” I looked to the top of the fence. “You may have to perform CPR, Chefgirl.”
    Now she snorted. “On your ass? I don’t think so.”
    I sniffed dramatically. “I’ll have you know I’ve been told it’s a nice ass. More than once.”
    She began giggling again. “Modesty becomes you.”
    I rubbed my aching butt. “Seriously, I may need medical attention here.” I smirked. “You know doctor stuff; maybe you could . . . kiss it better?”
    Once again, she snorted.
    Seriously, she was snorting over kissing my ass? Some people would happily kiss it.
    “Heads up!”
    Startled, I looked up and snagged the item that was sailing over the fence. Confused, I regarded the package containing one of the thick steaks I had bought. “What’s this for? It’s not cooked yet!”
    “Raw meat works to bring down the swelling on a bruised eye. Maybe you could sit on that and it would do something for your ass—and your overinflated ego.”
    Wordlessly, I looked at the steak, then glared at the fence. “You know, Kourtney with a K, my other girl doesn’t give me lip the way you do; I could go back to her. She’s always waiting.”
    “Other girl?”
    “Yeah. She’s pretty hot stuff. Warm, soothing, always there when I need her, with none of this back-talking shit. You’ve probably seen her at the grocery store.”
    “And does she have a