Free Hard Time (Hard as Nails #1) by Hope Conrad

tone than the one she had greeted me with. She’s very careful of her tone around Riley, as if she’s capable of understanding words. “Care to explain why?”
    “I’d rather not,” I sigh and plop down on the couch beside her.
    “Nope.” She shakes her head. “I have a busy life, and I think I deserve an explanation.”
    “If you’re so busy, then why are you still here?” As soon as the words slip out of my mouth, I’m instantly apologetic. Dee does so much for me without asking anything in return. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little annoyed right now.”
    “Spill the details.”
    I throw my head back against the couch and let out a loud groan. The last thing I want is to talk about Street. There’s no way Dee will understand, and there’s no reason I should expect her to.
    “See that right there,” she says as she points to me. “That right there tells me that you need to tell me everything that happened so I can scold you and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
    “Let’s just say we’re both terrible when it comes to men, and leave it at that.”
    “No way because that’s only stating the obvious. Now, I know what just-fucked hair looks like, and you’re guilty as hell, so tell me who’s the unlucky guy?”
    “Fine. His name is Street—”
    “That’s not a name. That’s a nickname you’d earn in the slammer.”
    I turn to her with wide eyes, a dead giveaway that she’s on the right track.
    She inhales a sharp breath. “Tell me you didn’t just screw an ex-con.”
    I shrug. “I can’t. Even worse, we did it in my car,” I groan, and my cheeks flush red with embarrassment.
    She drops down next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder even as her expression twists into anger. It will always be that way between us, Dee lending her support even as she chews me out for my stupidity. “What the hell is wrong with you? You should know better. I mean, how long did you work in that damn prison?”
    “You want to know the worst part?” I question, and can tell by the inquisitive look plastered across her face that she wants to know all the details. “He didn’t even invite me into his apartment,” I say with a light, uncomfortable chuckle. “Is that asking too much?”
    “You banged some guy in your car,” she points out. “What did you expect?”
    I don’t have a proper answer. She’s absolutely right.
    “This is what you do, Katie,” she continues. “You hook up with losers, and you always have this expectation that they’re going to stick around.”
    “Sometimes they do.”
    “Do what? Stick around?” She chews into her lip and shakes her head. “Look at the last man that stuck around. He’s a complete piece of shit.”
    “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.” I’m tired and don’t wish to discuss this any longer, especially with Dee. I just want to sleep and forget for a while. “Besides, you don’t have to worry about Street. He got what he wanted, and he’ll move on from it.” I look at her with a forced smile, hoping it’s enough to convince both of us. “And so will I.”
     
     

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    Street
     
    I’ve turned into a fifties housewife as I vacuum the floor, but instead of silence or a soap opera on the television blaring in the background, an urban radio station blares modern rap. Before I went to prison, I wasn’t much into rap music. After prison is an entirely different story.
    It clears my head, and somehow soothes me. And since I’m the absolute worst person in the world when it comes to tidying a home, I need the distraction. I push the vacuum back and forth, and with every stroke of my wrist, I try to ensure the lines left behind on the dingy carpet align with each other. I’m nowhere close to OCD when it comes to cleaning house, but there’s something about uneven vacuum lines that drives me up a wall.
    There’s a loud knocking on the door and I jump in place, switch off the vacuum and turn the volume