Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 108(@200wpm)___ 86(@250wpm)___ 72(@300wpm)
I finish up with the weed eater, and it's dark by the time I head inside. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I take it out onto the front porch and watch the stars come out. Nothing about my day has been too odd or out of place, but I'm being pulled in two different directions anyway.
First, my attraction and near obsession with Kelly is growing every time I see her, and second, I can't shake the feeling of wrongness I had about that Frank guy at the hardware store. Covington is a small town, but not tiny, so it's more than likely the friend he was talking about wasn't my Kelly, but I can't seem to make myself believe that.
Before I climb into bed, I send her a quick text.
Me: Remember, if something is bothering you, I'm right next door. Never hesitate to call.
It's around 3 AM when my phone goes off, and at first I think I'm dreaming.
Groaning, I roll over and grab the device, and my heart jumps into my throat when I see Kelly's name on the screen.
I hit the green button. "Hey, everything okay?"
"Cam," her voice is shaky. "I-I'm sorry, I know we only met yesterday, but you said to call if something was ever wrong, and … and...."
I'm already on my feet, pulling my jeans on with the phone braced between my shoulder and ear. "What's wrong?"
"It could be nothing, the house settling or something, but I swore I heard someone messing with the doorknob downstairs."
I swallow hard. "Are the doors locked?"
"Yeah."
"And the windows?"
"I think so."
"Stay on the phone with me, Kelly. I'm coming over."
"Okay."
My blood roars in my ears, and the moment I've got the front door open, I sprint toward her house.
"You're outside?" she asks, her voice shaking.
"Just crossed into your yard," I confirm. "I'm not going to hang up until I'm at your door, all right?"
"O-okay."
She's scared, and I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around her and protect her, but right now my focus is getting to her. "What are you doing right now, honey?"
"Um, I'm standing upstairs by the railing."
"Are all the doors and windows locked?"
"Yes."
"Good girl."
Just like she said, the door is locked when I reach it, and I rap my knuckles against it three times. "I'm here, Kelly."
The line goes dead, and the wait for the door to open is the longest few seconds of my life. The moment it opens, I rush forward, pulling her into my arms and holding her close. Her body is shaking, and she clutches my shirt.
"Thank you," she whispers. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," I say, stroking her back. "Always."
She pulls away, and when our eyes meet, it's like the air is sucked out of the room. There's something here between us, and even in the midst of a crisis, I'm acutely aware of it.
"So, um, what's the plan now?"
"Now, we check your house."
"Okay."
The upstairs is clear, and Kelly follows behind me, staying close, while we clear the downstairs, as well. Every room is empty, and the windows and doors are locked up tight.
"See? All clear," I say, smiling down at her.
"Thank God." She sighs, leaning against the wall behind her and pressing a hand to her chest. It's then I realize that she's not wearing a single thing beneath her thin, short pajamas and that her nipples are hard points against the fabric. The urge to lean down and nip at one through the shirt is so powerful I have to clench my fists to regain control.
"Kelly," I say slowly, "I need you to tell me the truth, okay? Is there anyone who might be a danger to you? It doesn't just affect you. It affects the whole neighborhood, and I need to be aware."
She looks guilty, and a cold ball of fear drops into the pit of my stomach.
"Sweetheart," I murmur, brushing my knuckles over her cheek. "It's not an accusation, just a question."
Tears fill her sapphire eyes, but she dashes them away before they can fall. "It really shouldn't be an issue—I mean, he lives in Boston for goodness’ sake—but I had a..." She swallows, and this time I let my hands slide down to her shoulders, steadying her. "I had a stalker. He was a teacher's assistant, but he became weirdly obsessed with me. He never hurt me or anything, but he'd leave creepy gifts outside my door, and I swore he watched me when I left my night classes. The police never caught him, so he was never charged, which isn't fair, but I was so sure the issues would be over once I moved."
"Shit, Kelly. I'm sorry." I already knew the answer before I asked. My instincts are almost never wrong. "What's his name?"
When Kelly says it, the word hangs heavily between us. "Frank."