"I dunno," I said, trying to keep my tone casual. "A friend, or maybe a date, I guess it depends." No way I'd be subjecting any date to my crappy excuse for a family, excluding Josh, of course. But I needed to be vague.
My plan was to beg Erika to come, if only for part of it. My Dad liked Erika a lot more than he liked me. More importantly, Loretta was intimidated by Erika's last name, which graced a string of restaurants and shopping centers in the Rochester Hills area.
But no matter who it was, it would be better than nobody. My Dad and Loretta were always a lot nicer in front of an audience. I just needed to find an audience I could trust, someone who knew my family, loved me anyway, and wouldn't blab after the fact.
This only left Erika. If I had to beg her, I would. It wasn't just for me. It was for Josh too. She liked Josh. She'd probably do it.
"Fine," Loretta muttered. "Iguessyou can bring someone."
She didn't sound very happy about it. The fact she agreed at all was a total surprise. Obviously, she was just as eager for this little get-together as I was, which is, not eager at all. It was almost funny to think we agreed on anything.
I wasn't used to this.
"If you want any food, be there at noon," she said. "I'm assuming you can crawl out of bed by then?"
Before I could answer, she hung without saying goodbye.
Now this, I was used to.
I was just drifting back to sleep when the doorbell rang, causing Chucky start yapping his head off from somewhere downstairs.
With a sigh of frustration, I threw aside the covers and stumbled out of bed, making my way toward the window that overlooked the driveway. When I got there, what I saw in the driveway made me groan out loud.
There was no mistaking the vehicle. Last night, I couldn't tell the color, but in the morning light, it was beyond obvious – neon green with a black racing stripe. Lawton Rastor was here? But why?
And then, it hit me. He'd mentioned stopping by this morning, something about steak and eggs? I'd been positive he was joking. Apparently, he wasn't.
Was I supposed to be flattered? What the hell? So the guy has some threesome or whatever with those two other girls, and just a few hours after shoving them out the door, he's on my doorstep wanting breakfast?
Cripes, I wasn't even dessert, I was an afterthought. I knew one thing for sure. A guy like Lawton Rastor didn't stop by just for steak and eggs.
I could imagine how this scene was playing out in his head. I'd greet him at the door, in full makeup, with my hair done to perfection. I'd be wearing something totally inappropriate for lounging around the house, maybe some sheer nightie or a cocktail dress. Or, if I wanted to bereallysubtle, I'd throw on skimpy shorts and a tank top, one that showed way too much cleavage, and the barest hint of nipple if the morning were cool enough.
And then, when I opened the door, I'd still pretend to be surprised. All the while, everything about me would be screaming, "Screw my brains out!"
Fuck that.
I'd had to take a lot of crap in my life, from my stepmother, and occasionally on the job. But I didn't need to take crap from random strangers, no matter how rich, famous, or gorgeous they happened to be.
I snuck a glance in the mirror. When I'd crawled into bed after my shower, I hadn't bothered to dry my hair. And it showed. I had a wicked case of bed-head, and there were dark circles under my eyes. I was wearing an oversized gray T-shirt and pajama bottoms covered in ninja penguins.
He deserved to see this.
I felt myself smile. He deserved steak and eggs too, right? And I knew just the girl to serve it up to him.
When I flung open the front door a couple minutes later, he was still there, wearing what I'd come to recognize as his usual outfit – faded jeans and a T-shirt. This shirt was black, accenting the tattoos that snaked up his forearms. His hair still had that semi-tousled look, and his face was heart-stopping gorgeous in spite of the expression of unease that quickly settled over his features.
"Hi!" I said with an overly big smile. "I'meverso glad you stopped by." I practically leaped out of the entryway and slammed the door behind me to keep Chucky from getting out. "Steak and eggs, right?"
He took a half step backward. "Uh, did I wake you up?"
"Of course not," I gushed, doing my best crazy stalker impression. "I've been waiting for hours and hours for you to show up. Look!" I said, thrusting the paper lunch bag in his direction. "I made you breakfast and everything, just like you wanted." I lowered my voice. "Baby."
He eyed the bag, but made no move to take it.
I shoved it closer. "Go on," I urged with another stalker smile, "Take it. I made it just for you."
Reluctantly, he took the bag. Slowly, he opened it and peered inside. I watched, breathless, as he studied the contents. For a few seconds, nothing happened. And then, his mouth twitched. He looked up. "Really, you shouldn't have," he said.
