She froze in her tracks.
Maxie’s head popped around the doorframe. “Holy shit, is that who I think it is?”
“Cherry?” Rick knocked again. “I know you’re in there.”
“He’s a freaking stalker!” Maxie reached for the telephone.
“Who are you calling?” Cherry hissed.
“The cops.”
“Are you mad? No!”
“Cherry, he’s knocking on your door.”
“Calling three times and knocking on the door once doesn’t make him a stalker.”
Maxie gave her a funny look. “So answer the door.”
“No.” Cherry grabbed Maxie and thrust her towards the door. “I’m out of town; you’re minding the cats and the house for me.”
Maxie’s mouth fell open.
“Get rid of him,” Cherry hissed, and bolted to her bedroom.
Closing the door quietly, she leaned back against it and closed her eyes. What the hell was she, a timid teenager? She should have just answered the door and told him to rack off in no uncertain terms. Instead, she was hiding in here while her friend did the deed for her.
Cripes, she was pathetic.
Hands trembling a little, heart pounding a lot, she strained to hear. Faintly came the deep rumble of a male voice, followed by the lighter tones of Maxie’s. The rise of a question, the lowness of an answer. Several more words, a pause, and then the door shut. Seconds later came the thump of a car door.
Maxie opened the bedroom door and Cherry staggered back out, arms wind-milling to keep her balance. She smacked up against the hall wall.
“Lover boy is gone,” Maxie announced. “He’ll be back, though.”
“But not tonight.” Cherry straightened.
“Not tonight. You can’t hide from him forever, Cherry.”
“I know. I know. I’ll face him…another day.”
Maxie sighed. “You have to sort this out.”
“I will.” Shoving one hand through her hair, Cherry screwed her eyes shut. “Bloody Susie!”
“Susie may have unwittingly caused some of this, but you’re also to blame.”
“What? How am I to blame?”
“You didn’t ask his name when Rick came to the door,” Maxie pointed out. “You could have let in an axe murderer, dummy. You always ask the name of a person before letting him inside.”
“Who are you, my mother?” Cherry scowled. “Bloody Rick thinks he’s my father, and you act like my mother.”
“Rick acted like your father?”
“He said it was dangerous to sleep with men I don’t know.”
“He’s got that right.”
“Now you’re on his side?”
“Hey, don’t start on me, sister.” Maxie held her hands up, palms out. “I’m just saying.”
Cherry gazed at her for several seconds before she sighed and leaned back against the wall. “You’re right. It is partly my fault. This is my mess and I need to clean it up.”
Relaxing, Maxie laid her hand on Cherry’s shoulder. “On the plus side, he is kind of cute.”
“Max!”
“Just saying.” Smiling, Maxie headed back to the kitchen. “Come on, help me decide on the colours of these bridesmaids dresses.”
~*~
Gazing unseeingly at the far wall, Rick wondered when he was going to catch a break. Cherry was avoiding him, refusing to answer her phone and even leaving town, for God’s sake. Why? Was he such an ogre she couldn’t even bring herself to talk to him?
It had been a different matter with Annabelle. The Barracuda wanted him, she’d made that perfectly clear. There he’d been, explaining nicely to her that there was going to be no dinner date, that he was seeing someone else, and she’d reached up and stroked his cheek and told him that she was the woman for him.
He shuddered inwardly. Annabelle was beautiful, no doubt about that, but she was a cold fish. Now Tim would find that comparison funny – The Barracuda being a cold fish – but Rick wasn’t hugely amused. He had a feeling that Annabelle wasn’t finished pursuing him yet. A woman like that never gave up the prize without a fight. He just had to keep that fight from finding its way to Cherry.
The way things were going, he wasn’t going to find himself with Cherry any time soon, either, but by God, he wanted to be with her.
Crossing the street to his car, he’d seen Cherry walking down the pathway in the park and he’d followed, his heart lifting at just the sight of her. Too far behind for her to hear him, he’d quickened his pace to catch her up, only to be stopped by an elderly woman who’d told him, in an indignant and wavering voice, that teenagers were cruel at times, and the poor lady ahead had been called some nasty names, and after all, it probably wasn’t her fault she had a weight problem.