With a light sigh, I internally scolded myself for thinking so negatively and used my key to enter the side of the house. I walked into the small hall by the kitchen and called out, “I’m home.”
No answer.
Weird.
My slides walked me past the living room and into the foyer. Looking up the staircase, I yelled out, “Connor?”
But again, no response.
Hmmm.
It was a rare thing for me to be home alone. We always had people over, at all times of the day. Noah and the guys or Micah and Amber. The Vixens were always welcome too and quite often, we had Beth or Ettie or Pearl or all three sitting on our deck, drinking imported beer and shooting the breeze. Sometimes when the wind blew right, Cherry would come by. And that meant a lot. As much as she hated Connor for what he had done to me, she was reaching out for the sake of our friendship. It showed me how important our relationship was to her and I loved her for that.
With such a full house, I’d almost forgotten what it was like to be alone which seemed silly considering that less than a year ago, I’d basically been solitary my entire life.
Little did I know when I took the job with Left Turn that I would learn a small but important lesson. Once you had the company of some great and funny people, alone just wasn’t enough anymore.
The silence bothered me so I busied myself. Being that nobody was home, I started to undress on the way to the ground floor bathroom.
Screw it.
I was going to have a nice, relaxing bath. With bubbles.
Why stop there?
Yeah. Who knows how crazy I’ll get?
I might even light a candle or two, or have a glass of juice in there.
So that’s exactly what I did. I put my hair up into a knot atop my head, sat in the bath a while and relaxed before the shit storm I had a feeling was coming when I told Connor The Vixen’s good news. And somehow during that half hour, if it were even possible, my anxiety managed to go from a barely-there acoustic riff to a squealing electric guitar solo. One that made every amp shake and whine.
Ugh. Cool.
With a towel around me, I stepped out of the steaming bathroom and made my way into the kitchen for a glass of cold water. My focus shot, I sipped on it slowly, silently stressed about things I had no control over, as one did. But when I arrived next to the dining room table, my semi-wet feet stopped suddenly, squeaking on the polished floor boards.
The back door was open.
My brow furrowed. “Um…”
I thought back. Had it been open before I went to bathe?
No. I would’ve noticed.
The pit of my stomach grew heavy and my heart beat hastened. “Connor?” My voice shook.
I took a slow step toward the open door and cleared my throat, this time trying not to sound as scared as I felt. “Connor?”
Another step forward.
Mouth dry, I stilled as I heard rustling in the back yard.
Where is your phone, dummy?
Oh no.
It was on top of the pile of clothes I’d left in the bathroom.
Holding the knot of the towel together, I was just about to head back and retrieve said phone, when the doorway filled and my breath left me in a whoosh.
Petrified, I stared at the intruder.
The intruder stared back at me, unflinching.
On shaking legs, I began to walk backward.
The trespasser followed my every step, matching them in distance and pace.
When my back hit the island, I didn’t hesitate to swiftly climb it and stand in the center of it. And when I opened my mouth, a shaky, “Help,” left me. Actually, it was more of a squeak. Also, I was sure no one had heard my desperate cry.
The interloper’s brown eyes held mine a long moment before their head tilted to the side and their tongue lolled out. Gently panting, they sat and watched me in what I assumed was pure perplexity.
Swallowing hard, I watched Connor approach the back door and pause in his steps when he saw me standing in the middle of the white marble island. He blinked at me. “Babe?”
My nose began to tingle and out came a pitiful sounding, “Help.”
Connor looked down at the Doberman then back up at me. He did this again and when the Doberman looked up at him and wagged its tail, Connor smiled. His smile turned into a