Shake The Frost (Crystal Lake #6) - Juliana Stone Page 0,16

by storm in spite of the nausea that still visited her most days.

She’d grabbed two bags of grapes and was about to search out the watermelon when she heard her name and froze. Trudy Styles. Hidden behind a huge Halloween display, she held her breath and peeked through a gap between two dried-out cornstalks.

“Oh my God, Leanne, did you hear that Emily Davenport is knocked up?” Trudy said with an exaggerated laugh as she rolled her eyes.

“I found out yesterday.” Leanne White, a woman a few years older than Emily, replied casually, as if discussing Emily’s business was an everyday occurrence. She and Trudy were tight and had been as long as Emily could remember.

“Who told you?”

Emily winced and glanced over her shoulder. Trudy made no effort to lower her voice.

“Darlene Phibbs. I ran into her at the pharmacy.”

“Didn’t take her long, that’s for sure,” Trudy continued. “Jesus, Rick’s body is barely cold in the ground, and she’s already screwing around.”

“I heard she had a thing with Beck Jacobs a while back,” Leanne replied. “Though I don’t blame her, really. Can you imagine going without sex for years because your husband is in a coma? And let’s be honest, Beck Jacobs is hot as hell.”

“Beck Jacobs is seriously married.”

“As if that means anything to you,” Leanne chortled. “I said a while back, I don’t think he’s the kind to cheat.”

“Whatever,” Trudy said waving her hand. “Seriously, though, show some respect. Her man was only buried in the spring.”

“Maybe it was on purpose,” Leanne replied.

“What?

“The pregnancy. Maybe she’s lonely and wants a baby.”

“She’s nuts to raise a kid on her own. I heard she doesn’t even know who the father is.” The smile on Trudy’s face was vicious. Emily’s stomach turned over. She put a fist against her mouth, hoping like hell she wouldn’t lose her breakfast.

“How far little Miss Prom Queen has fallen. She was always so fucking perfect ,you know? Always so far above the rest of us.” Trudy raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“You’re being kinda hard on her, don’t you think? I mean, she did lose her husband, and she’s young, like thirty or something. So maybe we shouldn’t be so judgey.”

“Ricky didn’t give a shit about her.”

Ricky? Emily stood a little taller. No one had called him that but his family.

“Come on, Trudy. A guy can care and still cheat. You don’t think most men like to play outside their sandbox?”

Heart pounding, with tears stinging the corners of her eyes, all Emily could do was hope they moved on before they caught her listening like the pathetic woman she was.

“Please. Rick Davenport was the biggest player in town, and she has to be the stupidest woman that ever lived if she didn’t—”

“Trudy Styles, man, I haven’t seen you in years.” The male voice came from nowhere and Emily swiped at the tears, her humiliation complete. She spied Connor a few feet from the women.

“Hey.” Trudy’s voice changed, it was light and playful. “Not fair. You know my name and I don’t know yours.” She eyed the handsome newcomer up slowly and winked. Suggestively. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember you if we’ve met before.”

“We’ve met,” he replied. “Connor Jenkins.”

“Connor…” Trudy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “No way.” She gave him an exaggerated once-over and smiled. “I see it in the eyes now.” Her grin deepened. “Wow, you’ve changed a lot.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot since I’ve been back,” he replied dryly. “Though you haven’t changed a bit.”

“I try to hit up the gym at least four times a week.” Again with the giggle, though it slowly died when he continued.

“Trust me, it’s not a compliment.” Derision coated his words. “Now if you don’t mind, you’re in my way.” He motioned to the apple display and waited.

The two women looked stunned, and when Leanne tugged on Trudy’s arm, she didn’t resist and went with the woman, disappearing up the next isle.

“They’re gone, Emily.” He spoke so quietly at first, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him, and when he poked his head around the cornstalks, she practically jumped out of her boots and nearly dropped her grapes.

With cheeks that must surely be the color of the apples he held in his hand, she tossed the grapes into her cart and tried to calm her nerves. Her face burned so damn hard she pressed her cold hands to either side and swallowed hard.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She could lie and say yes, but defeated, she shrugged. “No.