Read Online Over the Fence by Melanie Moreland - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melanie Moreland
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name?”
I bit back a laugh. “Yeah, she does. Marie Callender.”
There was silence for a minute.
I could tell she was trying not to laugh when she spoke. “Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to say this . . . but your other girl?”
“What?” I could feel my lips twitching.
“She’s a total tramp. She’s warm and soothing to a lot of guys. A few women, as well.”
I gasped in mock horror. “Chefgirl, are you talking smack about Marie?”
Her voice dropped. “Only telling you what I’ve heard. The guys think she’s easy, and she’s pretty cheap most of the time. Rumor has it you can often get a ‘twofer.’ Maybe I give you some lip, deservedly so, I might add, but I’m a little more exclusive.”
I threw my head back, hooting in laughter.
My girl was fucking hilarious. I loved it when she teased me.
On her side of the fence, Kourtney joined in my amusement. The second bag disappeared over the fence, then I heard a gasp as she discovered the contents inside the two huge bags. “Exactly how hungry are you? You don’t expect me to cook all this at once, do you?” she asked, horrified.
I shook my head, still laughing. “No, Kourtney. I wanted to contribute. You’ve cooked so much for me. Throw it in your freezer and cook it when you want.” I climbed gingerly back up on the chair. “The steaks are for tonight, though,” I said, pushing the package over the top. “I am not putting that Grade-A beef on my ass. I want you to cook it for me. It’ll work its way to my ass eventually.”
“Oh, my God! You’re so rude! Do you not have a filter at all?” Kourtney gasped, but then another fit of her warm laughter drifted over the fence. I loved making her laugh—even with my rude comments. She just got me. Nobody had ever gotten me the way she did.
“Nat?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay—seriously?” Her tone was warm and reflected her genuine worry.
“I am now. Thanks for the laugh.”
“Sorry about your, um, ass.”
I snickered. She was adorable. It sounded as if she was embarrassed simply saying the word. “I’ll survive . . . unless you’re offering that kiss . . .”
“Dream on, Nathan.”
She walked away from the fence. “And stay off the chair after you’ve had a few beers . . . please.”
I sighed, rubbing my sore ass.
Good advice.
The smell drifting over the fence was driving me crazy. “Soon, Chefgirl?”
She sighed in frustration, but her voice was amused when she answered. “Get your fork ready, Nat. It’s almost done.”
“Not my fault you make it smell so fucking delicious I can’t wait, you know.”
Kourtney laughed. “I’m going as fast as I can, Tomcat. Your incessant ‘are we there yet’ queries won’t cook it any faster, you know . I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Pretty fucking close, if you ask me. You got me eating salad, and other . . . green things. If that’s not a miracle, I’m not sure what is.”
Her warm laughter filled the air, and grinning, I got up, went inside and grabbed the bottle of wine I had bought. It was one of my favorites when I was in the mood for wine and I thought Kourtney would enjoy a glass with her dinner. I had even bought a special glass; one of those flat-bottomed wine goblets so I could give it to her easily. I had my doubts a stemmed wine glass would make it intact being slid across the fence top. Those suckers were wobbly enough on a flat surface. I had mostly sobered up, but wasn’t totally sure my coordination skills were up to pushing a tippy glass around. I approached the fence and carefully climbed on the chair, waving my hand frantically over the top. “Are we there yet?”
A subtle giggle close to me indicated Kourtney was up on the ladder. A plate appeared, and reaching out, I touched her hand, pleased when her fingers didn’t immediately pull back.
“Hi, Kourt.”
“Hi, Nat.”
“I got you something.”
“What?”
I grabbed the plate and carefully pushed the glass her way.
I bit back a laugh. “Yeah, she does. Marie Callender.”
There was silence for a minute.
I could tell she was trying not to laugh when she spoke. “Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know how to say this . . . but your other girl?”
“What?” I could feel my lips twitching.
“She’s a total tramp. She’s warm and soothing to a lot of guys. A few women, as well.”
I gasped in mock horror. “Chefgirl, are you talking smack about Marie?”
Her voice dropped. “Only telling you what I’ve heard. The guys think she’s easy, and she’s pretty cheap most of the time. Rumor has it you can often get a ‘twofer.’ Maybe I give you some lip, deservedly so, I might add, but I’m a little more exclusive.”
I threw my head back, hooting in laughter.
My girl was fucking hilarious. I loved it when she teased me.
On her side of the fence, Kourtney joined in my amusement. The second bag disappeared over the fence, then I heard a gasp as she discovered the contents inside the two huge bags. “Exactly how hungry are you? You don’t expect me to cook all this at once, do you?” she asked, horrified.
I shook my head, still laughing. “No, Kourtney. I wanted to contribute. You’ve cooked so much for me. Throw it in your freezer and cook it when you want.” I climbed gingerly back up on the chair. “The steaks are for tonight, though,” I said, pushing the package over the top. “I am not putting that Grade-A beef on my ass. I want you to cook it for me. It’ll work its way to my ass eventually.”
“Oh, my God! You’re so rude! Do you not have a filter at all?” Kourtney gasped, but then another fit of her warm laughter drifted over the fence. I loved making her laugh—even with my rude comments. She just got me. Nobody had ever gotten me the way she did.
“Nat?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay—seriously?” Her tone was warm and reflected her genuine worry.
“I am now. Thanks for the laugh.”
“Sorry about your, um, ass.”
I snickered. She was adorable. It sounded as if she was embarrassed simply saying the word. “I’ll survive . . . unless you’re offering that kiss . . .”
“Dream on, Nathan.”
She walked away from the fence. “And stay off the chair after you’ve had a few beers . . . please.”
I sighed, rubbing my sore ass.
Good advice.
The smell drifting over the fence was driving me crazy. “Soon, Chefgirl?”
She sighed in frustration, but her voice was amused when she answered. “Get your fork ready, Nat. It’s almost done.”
“Not my fault you make it smell so fucking delicious I can’t wait, you know.”
Kourtney laughed. “I’m going as fast as I can, Tomcat. Your incessant ‘are we there yet’ queries won’t cook it any faster, you know . I’m not a miracle worker.”
“Pretty fucking close, if you ask me. You got me eating salad, and other . . . green things. If that’s not a miracle, I’m not sure what is.”
Her warm laughter filled the air, and grinning, I got up, went inside and grabbed the bottle of wine I had bought. It was one of my favorites when I was in the mood for wine and I thought Kourtney would enjoy a glass with her dinner. I had even bought a special glass; one of those flat-bottomed wine goblets so I could give it to her easily. I had my doubts a stemmed wine glass would make it intact being slid across the fence top. Those suckers were wobbly enough on a flat surface. I had mostly sobered up, but wasn’t totally sure my coordination skills were up to pushing a tippy glass around. I approached the fence and carefully climbed on the chair, waving my hand frantically over the top. “Are we there yet?”
A subtle giggle close to me indicated Kourtney was up on the ladder. A plate appeared, and reaching out, I touched her hand, pleased when her fingers didn’t immediately pull back.
“Hi, Kourt.”
“Hi, Nat.”
“I got you something.”
“What?”
I grabbed the plate and carefully pushed the glass her way.
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