Logically, I know that it is stupid to go towards what could be danger. I guess I never thought much of logic, because here I am basically serving myself up on a silver platter. I’m still crouched down and looking around the corner. I can’t see into the kitchen completely, but I don’t see anyone.
Maybe I am just going crazy.I continue into the kitchen a bit more confident than before. I don’t see anyone. I do see the back door slightly ajar. And the wind keeps pushing it open. I sigh to myself in relief. I must have not closed it all the way after I took the trash.
I rush forward to shut and lock it. Once it is locked I turn around and slide down to sit on the floor.I have got to get my shit together.This paranoia is getting out of hand. After a few minutes, I look at the time on my phone. I stand up quickly. Realizing this moment of insanity has robbed me of 15 critical minutes.
I hustle through the last of my chores and start wrapping up. Some of this I can do tomorrow. I’m starting to feel the fatigue seep into my bones, and I know that once I sit in my car and drive the 2 and a half miles home my motivation will be gone.
Untying my apron and hanging it by the oven for tomorrow morning, I grab my sweater and purse. I look over my shoulder to make sure the ovens are off, a habit that I have developed after too many nights of second guessing myself and making the return trip to work. Satisfied that everything was off, I head out to the parking lot.
I make my way to my 1972 vintage Volkswagen bug. The faded yellow paint brings a smile to my face. She has gotten me around for the last 10 years. I love having the option of putting the convertible top down in the spring and summer. Sometimes it can be a bit hairy driving her when it is icy and snowing, but that only happens a handful of times a year here.
Opening the driver’s side door, I have to jimmy the handle a bit. Sometimes it gets stuck and it needs some coaxing. Once it opens, I slide in and turn the key in the ignition. The car purrs to life. I let it warm up and turn on the radio.
I start humming along to the song that pours out of my speakers. Pulling down the visor, I look at myself in the old mirror. It is slightly foggy, but that does nothing to hide the fact that I gave up half way through the day and pulled my shoulder length, tawny colored hair up into a messy pony tail. It doesn’t disguise my make-up free face, or the darker circles under my eyes.
Once again I start to question why Holt wants to share a pizza with me. It can’t be because he finds my worn out appearance attractive. Looking down I shrug at the oatmeal colored oversized sweater that I put on today and slightly faded black leggings. I was going for comfort— but it probably gives more slob vibes.
The one good thing about the outfit is it disguises my abundant curves. Sometimes a bit of mystery is good. I like leaving some things to the imagination. I shrug my shoulders. It isn’t like Holt hasn’t seen me in something a bit more form fitting. Unfortunately, I’m sure he knows that I don’t exactly meet the criteria to become the next runway model. Unless, I would be representing a plus-size fashion line.
You are officially losing it, Piper. Holt doesn’t see you like that. He is just being nice.I shake my head and shift my car into drive. I slowly pull out of the parking lot. Trying to get my mind in order.
This is no big deal. You will eat a couple of slices of pizza and casually talk about surface level things.It is 5:30, I’m sure that Holt will want to head out in a couple of hours.
Pulling into my driveway, I see that Holt is inside. He must have found my hide-a-key. It has come in handy a few times. A couple of times, I have lost or forgotten my key. Other times, Meg has been able to use it to let herself in. I pat myself on the back for thinking of it as I head towards my door.
I push the door open and almost run right into Holt. I stop short and crane my head back to look up at him. His arms are crossed and his teeth are clenched. His look is quite intimidating, and I’m not sure what is going on. I look at his angular jaw, his blue eyes are glittering in the low lights of my cottage.
“Is everything okay,” I manage to stutter out. Holt is usually so easy going and laid back. This is a side of him I haven’t seen before. I see his jaw clench even harder.I hope he doesn’t crack a tooth.
“A hide-a-key Piper, really,” he grinds out. He is shaking his head, and before I can even open my mouth to respond he goes on.
“Do you know how dangerous that is, anyone could get in here at any time. You should just leave the door wide open,” his voice is rising with each word. I’m a bit stunned, so I don’t respond right away.
“The hardware store sells them, plenty of people use them,” I manage to respond. My stomach is all fluttery. I know Holt won’t hurt me, I just am not a huge fan of confrontation and fighting. I try to avoid it at all costs.
“Haven’t you learned anything since the last incident,” he snaps at me. I jump back a bit. While he has a point, I am not prepared to concede.
“You had no problem using the key to let yourself in,” I try to yell. It comes out a little less intimidating than I had hoped. My voice always wavers when I’m trying to assert myself. All of a sudden he sighs. Running his large hands through his light brown hair.
“Look, Piper, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure that you are safe. Anything could happen,” he tries to explain. He takes a deep breath and I can see his enormous shoulders relax marginally.
Chapter 6
Holt
When Piper came in, I couldn’t keep a lid on my emotions. My worry and fear just bubbled over. I pictured her walking in and being met with an intruder. All of the possible scenarios ran through my mind and I couldn’t take it.
When she tries to snap back at me and she falters, I realize that this isn’t going to get us anywhere right now. Piper needs to eat and sleep. In that order. We can discuss the security of her house later.
“The pizza is in the oven. Didn’t want it to get cold,” I explain to her. Making my way to the kitchen I open the refrigerator and hand her a cold beer.
Piper is already grabbing plates from the cabinet next to the stove. I open the oven and pull out the warm cardboard box. Grabbing the plates from Piper, I put 2 slices on a plate and hand it back to her.
She takes it quietly and makes her way to the small table. I watch her sit down wearily. I make my way to the table with my plate. Sitting across from her, I study her some more. Her oversized sweater does nothing to hide that delicious figure. Those soft curves are the stuff dreams are made of. Pieces of her tawny colored hair escape her messy ponytail. Her big hazel eyes keep flicking from her plate to me. The urge I have to tell her to eat bubbles up inside me. I bury it.
I pick up my slice of pizza, hoping that it will prompt her to mirror my actions. I spent the better part of the day at her cafe and saw her drink a shit ton of coffee and maybe a muffin. Slowly she picks up the slice and brings it to her mouth. Her quiet moan makes me shift in my chair.
“Angelo’s pizza is the best,” she states after swallowing the first bite. I nod in agreement while I finish chewing.
