My dirty little secret

Hello friends, I'm here to share a secret.

 A nasty one I like to keep hidden away. 

Its confession is painful but it's for a good cause. You see, today is Jordan McCollums blogfest for her new novel I, Spy!
And bonus! She's giving away prizes! So read, comment, and find out what your freebie is!

Here goes confession time - 

I pulled into the driveway already in a cold sweat. I'd spent the afternoon a mix of exhilaration and panic filtered through a crush of bodies and freedom that sometimes felt out of place.

I scanned the totes, that on my shoulder had felt more than heavy, but now lay heaped in the back seat. They gave no hint of the forbidden contents. I looked at them wanting to be pleased with my decisions, but my deep calming breaths had been replaced with hyperventilation.

The man of the house wasn't home, or, at least his car wasn't around. I opened the garage door. The concrete floor was clearly visible. Exposed, free of shadows and black rubber tires. I released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and I rolled into the garage.

The car filled with the smell of tires, and stale air. I closed my mouth, holding my breath, to keep the sent from overcoming my senses. I hit a button on the car door and cringed. The smooth whirring brought the image of sharpening blades as the window rolled to it's closed position. I hefted the massive bags from the backseat and half carried, half dragged them inside.

Inside it was quiet and clean but I'd never felt so out of place in my own home. Well, maybe not "never", this wasn't the first time. I swallowed and looked for witnesses. By some miracle of fate my children were absent. The faint hum of the television could be heard in the basement. The neglect etched a spot next to my anxiety, but I pressed on. 

I removed my shoes at the door, a guise of obedience, but grateful for the silence it afforded me.  Around the corner of the stairwell I hurried to the bedroom and its carpeted floors. A thump resonated in the empty rooms as I smacked into the door jamb as I hurried past. I scolded my carelessness and checked for damage. Everything was still as it had been and I stepped further into my room.

Beyond the bedroom I found an empty space in the closet. I moved stacks of long dresses and gently released my hold on the totes that burdened my soul. I stared longingly at the evidence of what I'd done.

A door slammed, and I jumped, knocking my head on the low hanging closet rod. Keeping an eye on the door I re-positioned the clothes. With a quick glance around I hurried to the bed pouncing on it as casually as I could.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, "Hillary!"

"I'm in here." I pulled my phone out and clicked into my email and leaned back on a pillow as he walked through the door.

"Hey love!" I clicked the phone off and stood my body tight and panicky.  I walked over and raised my arms to hug him and paused. He shimmered with sweat and the smell of salt and heat dripped from him. He grinned behind black sunglasses. The pause only lasted for a moment but my stomach rolled as it had the first time he'd come home like this. I'd kissed him then trying to be a good wife and assuming I'd get used to it.

I didn't, but considering what I'd just done, I lowered my arms and tried again. I touched his damp chest with just my fingertips and leaned up tapping the obligatory kiss on his lips.

"I'm so glad you're home! How was you're ride?" Lies, all lies. I didn't care about his ride and I wasn't glad he was home. Not right now anyway, guilt drifted from the closet like a mist.

"It was okay. Did you do anything this morning? Did the kids vacuum their rooms?" Crap. The rooms.

"Uh, I told them too. I think Livvy did, you know how they are." I could classify this as, not definitely a lie. He walked into the closet disappearing in the mist of guilt I'd left hanging there. I held my breath listening. He was silent as he dropped backpacks and opened drawers.

The shower turned on in the adjoining bathroom. Relief dropped me, like a water fall had opened in the ceiling, I fell back onto the bed breathing normally for the first time since the sight of the neighbors green suburban lawns and carefully pruned hedges. He hadn't seen the bags.

I hurried to check on the kids bedrooms as I contemplated how long I'd have to wait before I could wear the lacy green top in the bag. It would be longer for the boots. He tends to notice shoes. It's a curse. The stack of new things for the kids would be easy. In a few days I can pull a couple things out and feed him a line about how long it's been "just hanging around", but I could do that. They were worth it and, for now, my secret is safe.

Okay, so hiding shopping isn't the most thrilling secret, and this is a bit extreme :) but I think it's safe to say we've all got a secret or two! Happy blog hopping!

And go check out Jordan's novel, "I, Spy" and her prequel novella "Mr. Nice Spy"

Which just for reading you can get "Mr. Nice Spy" FREE!!! Yay!
Here's a quote from Jordan herself-
Just for reading a blog fest post, you can get a free e-copy of the novella Mr. Nice Spy, a prequel to I, Spy! Use the coupon code SECRET on my site store here! (Coupon code good through July 26, 2013.)