Page 10 of Ruthless Creatures

“Remind me why you’re my best friend again?”

“Because I’m awesome, obviously.”

“Hmm. The jury’s still out.”

“Look, why don’t you just be a good neighbor and go over and introduce yourself? Then invite him over for a tour of your house. Specifically your bedroom, where the three of us will explore our sexual fantasies while covered in Astroglide and listening to Lenny Kravitz sing ‘Let Love Rule.’”

“Oh, you’re going bi for me now?”

“Not for you, nitwit. For him.”

“I’m going to need a lot more wine before I start entertaining the idea of a threesome.”

“Well, think about it. And if everything works out, we could make it long-term and be a throuple.”

“What the hell is a throuple?”

“Same thing as a couple, but with three people instead of two.”

I stare at her. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Sloane smiles, scooping guac onto a chip. “I am, but that look on your face is almost as priceless as Diane’s.”

The waiter returns with menus and more chardonnay. An hour later, we’ve demolished two shrimp enchilada platters and as many bottles of wine.

Sloane burps discreetly behind her hand. “I think we should cab it home, babe. I’m too buzzed to drive.”

“I agree.”

“By the way, I’m spending the night.”

“You weren’t invited.”

“I’m not letting you wake up alone tomorrow.”

“I won’t be alone. Mojo will be with me.”

She motions to the waiter for our check. “Unless you leave with your hot new neighbor, you’re stuck with me, sis.”

It was an offhand remark, made because she obviously knows I have no intention of leaving with the mysterious and vaguely hostile Kage, but the thought of Sloane hovering over me in worry all day tomorrow to make sure I don’t slit my wrists on the anniversary of my non-wedding is so depressing it cuts straight through my buzz like a bucket of cold water poured over my head.

I glance over at his table.

He’s on his cell phone. Not talking, just listening, every so often nodding. He glances up and catches me looking.

Our eyes lock.

My heart jumps into my throat. A strange and unfamiliar combination of excitement, tension, and fear makes a flush of heat creep up my neck.

Sloane’s right. You should be friendly. You’re going to be neighbors. Whatever his problem is, it can’t be about you. Don’t take everything so personally.

The poor guy probably just had a bad day.

Still looking at me, he murmurs something into the phone and hangs up.

I say to Sloane, “Be right back.”

I stand, cross the restaurant, and walk right up to his table. “Hi. I’m Natalie. May I join you?” I don’t wait for his answer before I sit down.