~SLEEPING WITH THE LIGHTS ON~
I woke before Wesley that morning, the first morning waking up next to him. I silently yawned, stretching my feet against the cowboy sheets tucked tight at the foot of the bed. Greeting the morning lying between sheets with broncos and rodeo riding cowboys galloping across and under me, brought a smile to my face, not that I wouldn’t have been smiling anyway.
The sex was good. The cowboy sheets added an element of quirkiness I expected from Wesley. As I gently stretched, imagining my pointed toe nudged a lariat-twirling rider off his horse, the muffled electronic notes of Yellow Submarine rudely invaded my rodeo. I rolled out from under the sheets as gently as possible and hit the floor on all fours with a thud. Looking back at the still sleeping Wesley, I said a silent thank you for plush carpet. I didn’t bother standing. In three, hand-knee crawling movements, I reached my destination and yanked open my purse to extinguish the now irritating jingle.
“Hello,” I said in a loud whisper.
A knot instantly formed in the middle of my stomach. I recognized the voice, the baritone drawl, even after all those years. “Yes?”
“Hey, darlin’. It’s Carson.”
I looked over my shoulder at Wesley, still tucked under his cowboy sheets from the waist down, breathing the steady rhythm of sleep. One sinewy arm draped across his chest, the other cradled his head. I patted my legs, checking my state of consciousness; reasonably sure I hadn’t dozed off into one of my bizarre dreams.
“You know. Carson Holiday, your favorite ex-husband.”
“I know who you are.”
“I can barely hear you, darlin’. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
After a year without sex, getting a phone call from ex-husband number two, while in a new man’s bedroom with him less than four feet away, is definitely a bad time. “Yes, kind of, Carson. I’m…I’m…” Spit it out, Sandra. A grown woman of fifty can certainly have an affair without feeling the need to make excuses. Especially to an ex-husband. Life goes on after you, Carson. Oh, hell. “I’m …on my way out the door…with my neighbor’s sleeping baby.”
“Can I call you later?” he drawled.
Why? After eighteen years, why would he contact me? I heard Wesley roll over behind me.
“Later.” I could barely hear myself.
“I think you said okay. So, I’ll talk to you then. And by the way, I’m here in Minneapolis. Bye.”
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*In Sleeping with the Lights On, Sandra can’t find the time to get to the store to buy coffee. The quirky millionaire, the red-headed stalker, and a sexy ex-husband are keeping her tied up – whoops – there’s a sneak peek. So she makes frequent runs to Starbucks, sometimes in her unconventional p.j.’s. for a cup of latte and biscotti. Leave a comment here AND drop me an email at Brenda@brendawhiteside.com, and at the end of the week I’ll draw someone to receive both a Starbucks’ gift card and a gift card for The Wildrose Press. I’ll also add you to my announce only newsletter to notify you of future drawings and give-a-ways.