Free The Sex Solution by Kimberly Raye

Gertrude.”
    “I wasn’t chasing anybody. That woman wanted me. ”
    “She slapped you with a weenie.”
    “Purely accidental. She was playing hard to get. She wanted me, but I ain’t one for games, and I sure as hell cain’t survive on a few measly weenies wrapped in biscuit mix. I need some real food, and that woman can only do finger food. Had to break her heart and move on to greener pastures. Emmaline Waller.” He let out a low whistle. “Now there’s a filly who can cook. Won the corn-bread cook-off last year over in Austin County.”
    “Emmaline Waller? The lady who owns the fruit stand next to Skeeter’s Drugstore?”
    “That’s the one. Has a walking cane shaped like a giant banana. Right nice lady even if she ain’t much of a looker. Anyhow, I was going into the men’s room on account of that dadblamed weenie squirted juice and stained my favorite Sunday shirt. Emmaline offered to help get the stain out, and I knew right then and there that she was The One. Proposed to her between the sink and the urinals. I told her I had a two-hundred-square-foot kitchen with every major appliance and a year’s supply of Viagra, and if she played her cards right, she might be the lucky lady who gets to try both.”
    “Sounds romantic.”
    “That’s what she said right before she whacked me on the head with that dadblamed banana.” He eyed her. “You ought to try a few bananas. They might help shrink them hips of yours.” He squinted his eyes. “Then again, from the look of ’em, it’ll take a lot more than a piece of fruit. More like an act of God.”
    “I can see why Emmaline whacked you.”
    He frowned. “She’s crazy is all, but I ain’t gonna be discouraged. First thing tomorrow, I’m headed down to the diner.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The senior ladies do Sunday breakfast there afore church. While she’s out of the running—too dangerous—there should be plenty others to choose from.”
    “But you fly home tomorrow morning.”
    “No sirree. I ain’t going home empty-handed.” He stood and walked toward the front door. “Don’t just stand there. I need my beauty sleep.” He waited while she unlocked the door before preceding her inside. “But first I need my nightly buttermilk.” He headed to the kitchen.
    Madeline flicked the light switch back on and a warm yellow glow pushed back the shadows in the living room.
    Cheryl Louise and her new husband had opted to move in here rather than find a place of their own, and so all the furniture still sat in the exact spot Madeline remembered from all those afternoons spent studying here with Sharon.
    Recliner near the TV. Sofa sitting in front of the double bay windows overlooking the front yard. Dining room off to the left, complete with a china hutch overflowing with rose-patterned dinnerware. Of course, Cheryl Louise’s family had never owned a dog and so the massive amount of dog hair coating the sofa and rug, the fabric recliner, even the coffee table, were new to the house.
    Otherwise, everything was exactly the same.
    Even Sharon’s room.
    Not that she’d been inside. But the closed door still sported the same Madonna poster, along with a handmade Keep Out sign in bright pink bubble-shaped letters. She and Sharon had posted the sign after being interrupted while watching a rerun of Dukes of Hazzard. The show and the star, handsome Bo Duke, had needed their utmost concentration.
    Madeline drew in a deep breath, suddenly feeling restless. Thinking solved nothing. She refused to think about the past. She had to live for the moment. Sharon’s death had taught her that.
    “I don’t know about you, Maddie, but I want to do something with my life. I want to go places and see things and be somebody.”
    Growing up, Madeline had never really felt the same urge that had monopolized her friend’s thoughts and conversations.
    Correction—Madeline had never acknowledged the urge. While she’d dreamed of bigger and better things, she’d