Pretty Hot (The Pretty Trilogy Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

bit mad, but Niamh says the weather is so extreme most of the year that outdoor pursuits are almost impossible. I suppose it makes sense that there are alternatives, but snow in the desert is a bit over the top. Thankfully, I’m not the outdoorsy type, and my building has both a pool and a gym for its residents’ use. I don’t suppose I’ll be skiing anytime soon, but I’ve promised myself I’ll visit the gym. Who knows, maybe I’ll even step inside. In aiming for a whole new me, Kate the gym bunny still seems a step too far.
    ‘Who vommed porridge?’ Niamh places her bag on the hall table as she enters the very neutral room.
    ‘It’s . . .’ I struggle for the appropriate adjective as I try to pull the key from the lock.
    ‘Padded cell.’ She sniffs, unimpressed. ‘Porridge walls, floors and furniture. Complimented by eau d’ turpentine. Open a window, would you?’
    I eye the sofa which is remarkably like the one I’d left in Australia. ‘The lady in admin said they were renovating, that’s why I couldn’t move in last week. Oof, it’s stuck.’
    ‘Get yourself some bright throw cushions,’ Niamh says, walking around the room. ‘Introduce a bit of colour. Bring a bloke back here and he’ll think you’ve brought him to the psychiatric ward.’
    Again with the man thing. As if. ‘It’s fine.’ More than fine. ‘Just a bit impersonal, that’s all.’ I wheel in my solitary case, placing my handbag on the kitchen worktop, which happens to be very close to the front door.
    ‘At least it’s all new,’ she says, lifting a throw pillow from the sofa, plumping it up and distractedly placing it back.
    ‘Are they all like this, do you think?’ It is small and very plain. And a bit like a dentist’s waiting area. Not that I’m complaining, just curious. ‘What about your friend, the one who lives here?’
    ‘Remember that old movie with Tom Hanks where he’s a little boy trapped in a grownup’s body?’
    ‘Big?’
    ‘Is he ever!’ And now I know more than I need to. ‘I dunno,’ she says with a sigh, ‘I’ve only been inside his place once and it was far too messy to tell.’ Her gaze travels the room. ‘We’ll go to Ikea or something at the weekend, and I’ll come and pick you up for a bit of grocery shopping tomorrow, yeah?’
    ‘Thanks. I saw a mini-market on the corner on the way in, that’ll do for now.’
    ‘Grand. I’ve gotta love and leave ‘ya, babes. I’m off to have my brows threaded, and I’ve a facial booked later. The traffic’s bound to be mad.’
    I push the hair back off my forehead, eyebrows comically high. ‘Why do your brows need sewing back on?’
    Unimpressed, she picks up her purse. ‘A social life, Kate, requires effort and grooming, especially out here. Now, haul arse and make a bit of effort yourself. Go catch some rays by the pool. Any paler and you’d be on the slab.’
    ‘Pale says the ‘ranga from Dublin. That’s rich.’
    ‘I’m auburn , not feckin’ orange. I do not in any way resemble an orang-utan. And I’m supposed to be pale. Or freckly, and I know which I prefer. You, on the other hand.’ She eyes me disparagingly. ‘Aren’t you Aussies meant to be all bronzed and gorgeous after living on the beach?’
    ‘You know I hate the sand,’ I mutter.
    ‘Then you moved to the wrong place, didn’t you? Bathers. Pool.’ She makes a shooing motion with her fingers. ‘And by the way, your new neighbours are keepin’ an eye out for you.’
    ‘They are? But I don’t . . .’ My shoulders sag, sensing rather than seeing her smug expression. There’s no point arguing, especially when she isn’t listening.
    ‘Grand,’ she says, delighting in my defeat. ‘Consider them crash test dummies; a chance to practise your social skills. Good for a nice hard bang all in good time. ’
    The latter is muttered in an undertone and I pretend not to hear. Banging, as if. And dummies, even worse. Best not build my hopestoo high, for