I hurry up and finish getting ready since there’s only one bathroom in this house. How in the hell did four women live here with only one bathroom?
Gunner lies on the back porch while I prepare breakfast, listening to the sounds of Chevelle getting ready upstairs. There’s a lot of cursing and banging, but I ignore it.
Twenty minutes later she comes down, her hair in two braids, a tank top with the name of her company across her breasts and shorts that make me want to bite my knuckles. Especially when she bends over in the fridge to pack her cooler.
“Good morning. Hungry?”
She glances back at me. “You left the floor in the bathroom all wet and I almost fell on my ass.”
“Well, I made you breakfast to make up for it.” I shrug.
She grabs the Tupperware containers she prepared last night
