Page 13

“But you’re straight,” Ainsley stated.

“It’s about time you figured that out,” Rachel said snarkily.

“Oh, fuck you! I knew you were straight ages ago!”

“Whatever! Anyway, so?”

Ainsley shrugged.

“Some women get…what’s the medical term I’m looking for?” Ainsley looked off to the side, obviously pretending to think. “Oh yeah! Weirded out when gay women flirt with them too much.”

“Well,” Rachel began, “I’ve been enjoying it. This has been the most fun I’ve had with my clothes on in what feels like forever. Anyway, why can’t we be friends who flirt with each other? We should totally make that our thing.”

Ainsley smiled.

“As far as ‘things’ go, it’s not a bad one to have,” she said.

Rachel nodded.

“Besides, I think when it comes to flirting today, I’ve been giving as good as I’ve gotten.”

“You actually have,” Ainsley agreed. “As a lesbian, I’d give you a six out of ten.”

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Fuck! Six? That’s, like, the beige of scores!”

Ainsley laughed.

“Do better tonight,” she said, cocking an eyebrow.

And Rachel’s clit pulsed.

Chapter 6

Rachel was going to be arriving shortly.

Ainsley took a look around her condo, making sure it wasn’t the normal pigsty it usually was.

Okay, maybe “pigsty” was a little harsh, she considered, deciding to cut herself some slack. It wasn’t as if her sloppiness level was somewhere on par with any frat house on any university campus in any state in the union. Nonetheless, being a surgeon who often worked odd hours and frequently came home exhausted, Ainsley knew her housekeeping skills weren’t exactly Martha Stewart level.

She had kept meaning to hire a cleaning service. All she’d need is someone to show up twice a week, tops, to tidy up. Maybe three times. No more than four. But she had never gotten around to doing so. She resolved, however, to find such a service the minute she moved to Carlsbad and into that lovely house she was now on the cusp of buying.

Looking around now, she saw not one, not two but three pairs of shoes she had kicked off whenever in various places, none of which were her closet. She also spotted a pair of scrub pants draped over the back of one of her dining room chairs. Why, she had no idea. Two wine glasses were on her coffee table; not because she’d had a guest over for wine, she recalled, but because she had been too lazy to put the first one in the dishwasher after drinking it one night—whatever night that was. Last night, she had simply gotten a second glass and then been too lazy to put that one away also.

Both dirty wine glasses were accompanied on the table by a dirty bowl from which she had eaten breakfast cereal last night—her snack of choice. Charlotte had never understood Ainsley’s predilection for drinking wine while eating Honey Nut Cheerios, but to each her own.

Sighing, Ainsley got to work, collecting the dirty dishes first and putting them in the dishwasher before collecting the shoes and scrub pants next. In her bedroom, the pants went in the hamper while the shoes she tossed into the walk-in closet, shutting the door afterwards. She’d sort them properly into the shoe rack later figuring that while a tour of her home for Rachel would include the bedroom, it didn’t necessarily have to include the closet.

Wait…Why are there two bras on my nightstand? And why is another one on the windowsill?

She had no idea but since that’s not where her bras belonged, she quickly scooped up all of them and, not remembering if they were clean or not, opted for tossing them in the hamper.

Maybe “pigsty” isn’t so far off…

“Alexa, remind me to call a cleaning service for the new house!” she called out.

“When should I remind you?” the smart device asked.