Page 78 of Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell (Rock Canyon, Idaho 7)

Gemma pointed, and Gracie realized she was pulling on a strand of her blonde hair. Dropping it as though it burned, she scoffed. “Oh, for the love of chocolate, it doesn’t mean—”

“Who’s ready for the perfect sandwich?” Mike asked as he came through the door with a TV tray. On it were three plates holding four perfect sandwiches, three bags of chips, and three soda cans.

“You better not have made me two sandwiches. There isn’t enough room in my stomach for that much food. I may explode,” Gemma warned.

Mike set the tray down on the dresser and handed her one of the single sandwich plates, kissing her on the cheek. “Nope, the two are for me. I’m a growing boy.”

Both women snorted. Mike had always had a big appetite, but the man had stopped at just under six feet tall, and he had a total swimmer’s body.

Gemma gave Gracie a pointed look, signaling she wasn’t done with their conversation. “Hey, Mike, how can you tell when Gracie’s lying?”

“She pulls her hair,” Mike said around a giant bite of sandwich.

Gracie got up from the bed in disgust and grabbed her food off the tray. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, you animal.”

Mike howled in response.

“Gracie is lying about sleeping with Eric,” Gemma said.

Mike made a face. “Good, because I don’t need to hear about it.”

“God, you are such a baby.”

Mike shook his head and used his sandwich as a pointer. “Why in the hell would I want to hear about either of my best friends’ sex lives?”

“Seriously, you’re always the one telling me to mind my own business when I interrogate people on private issues, so why are you suddenly so nosy?” Gracie asked.

Gemma popped the top on her caffeine-free root beer. “Because it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

Gracie dropped a chip into her mouth, chewing it slowly. Finally, she shrugged. “Fine, we slept together.”

When Gracie didn’t continue, Gemma prodded, “And? Come on, you can’t leave me hanging without a complete list of Eric’s…attributes.”

“Fuck, I’ve got to stop hanging out with girls,” Mike grumbled.

Gracie’s cheeks flushed with annoyance. “Oh, knock it off! If we were guys, you’d be asking how big the girl’s breasts were.”

Mike actually looked affronted. “I am a gentleman!”

Gemma pointed at the door. “Whatever. You don’t want to hear, then leave the room, but as a very bored pregnant woman who has been cooped up for a month, I want details.”

“Gemma, I am not giving you sex details.”

“Thank God for that,” Mike said.

“Fine, fine! At least tell me what went wrong! If things were getting hot and heavy, why do you loathe him?”

Gracie didn’t know how she was going to put into words what she didn’t even understand herself.

“It’s hard to explain. Besides you and Mike, I’ve never really had anyone who believed in me. My parents love me, but I spend more time defending my life to them than I think is necessary.”

“Talking to the girl who got pregnant at eighteen, kicked out of her parents’ house, and spent years trying to make amends with pretty much everyone she loves.”

“Yeah, see, I know you understand.”

“I don’t, I’m perfect.” Mike took a snapping bite of his chip, smiling smugly.

Gemma glared while Gracie threw a chip at him. “Ass.”