Someone had stopped by. Funny how even after two weeks as his houseguest (roommate, she reminded herself, because she was trying to pull her weight and not play the pampered princess) it was very much his place. She and Vicious had added a new layer of dog hair to Luke’s furniture, but other than that, she hadn’t put her Deelie was here stamp on the place. She hit the kitchen first because, if the guests turned out to be either of Luke’s brothers, she needed caffeine before being social. Not because they weren’t nice but because they were so painfully polite around her. They looked at her, and she just knew that they wondered why the hell Luke had picked her to play house with. Frankly, she wondered the same thing at least twice or forty times a day. And then she had to kick herself, because she’d made a vow years ago to stop tearing herself down. Daddy Dearest had done that enough; now she lived for herself and for the fucking moment. Sometimes literally. She could feel the big I-just-got-laid-and-it-was-awesome grin stretching her face.
