Ruthless King

And all because she’d been getting changed in front of the window without pulling the curtain?

Well, that was slightly embarrassing now that she thought about it.

He’d also been a bit upset about her opening the door without asking who it was.

But she did that all the time.

What was the big deal?

Grabbing her phone, she saw several texts from Mrs. Yards.

Mrs. Y:There’s a strange man outside your place. Do you need me to call Scott?

Mrs. Y:Oh, it’s all right you’re hugging him.

Mrs. Y:Is this a booty call? Hallelujah! The drought is broken!

Drought?It wasn’t a drought! It had been about seven months since Lowell. Maybe eight or nine months since they’d had sex.

Nine months wasn’t a drought.

Jilly:It’s not a drought! Just a small dry patch.

Mrs. Y:Otherwise known as a drought, dear. But I saw you let him leave. That’s so disappointing. Short and anticlimactic.

Dear Lord.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Dan. Oh, great. Mrs. Yards had created a group chat with Jilly, Dan, Scott, and Sasha. It was called: Breaking the Drought.

Dan:Mrs. Y said the drought is broken. Oh no . . . wait, never mind. Bummer.

Jilly:It’s not a drought!

Dan:Honey, it’s nearly the Sahara desert. Not a drop of moisture in sight.

Kill her.Kill her now.

Scott:Who is this guy? I want a full name, photo, and D.O.B. Got a cop friend who will run his background. Do not do anything or go anywhere with this guy until I give you the okay.

What the hell?Why?

Sasha:If it’s a booty call, you shouldn’t take him to your house. Who is he?

Jilly:He’s not a booty call or anything else. He’s an old friend who came to check on me. That is all. No one will run any background checks or needs to know his name. And it’s not a drought!

Sheesh.She put her phone down with a groan. How was this her life?

Seriously.

2

Margaret was such an . . . such an old bat!

Jilly dragged herself along the footpath.

Yeah, she knew that walking home at this time of night wasn’t a great idea, but Margaret had kept her back for an extra two hours today. Then she’d had to go to the grocery store. Finally, the bus had broken down on the way home and it had been a long wait until the next one.

So now she was getting home at nine-thirty on a Wednesday night . . . awesome.