MONDAY
The couch truly was terrible. Getting off it was more like flopping over on my stomach and crawling toward the bathroom until the feeling returned in my legs.
I didn’t know if Teresa and Rita were staring at him in their usual longing way. I couldn’t tell because I seemed to be too busy doing it myself.
Why do I keep staring?
Because he was wearing a pinstripe gray suit today. With a cream-colored button up underneath. Looking comfortable as the accountant with the wide-brimmed glasses he kept pushing up that straight nose.
Nothing like the muscled bouncer in tactical pants I’d watched dressing a few days ago.
I blew a long breath. I’ve got to get away from him.
Staying in his apartment was going nowhere good.
This morning after I’d evolved my plan, I’d follow
