“Oh,” she gasps. “I love a good stalker romance.”
“Are you crying?” I ask incredulously.
“No, I’m not crying. You’re crying.” Jo blows her nose over the phone. “Who could it be?”
“Jo, you have the strangest sense of romance. I have no idea who. Well, no killers here. But I’m getting my locks changed. Today.”
“Good idea. Keep your phone close and call me if you need me. Or if you figure out who the delivery man is. See you soon!”
We hang up and I flop down on my chaise lounge, staring at the enormous basket of flowers. Who on earth could have sent them? And how did they get into my house?
I google a locksmith and arrange to have the locks changed. They can’t come until tomorrow, but I’m sure I’ll be okay until then. After all, I have my silly string.
* * *
I spendthe night tossing and turning, startled at every tiny noise. I wedged a chair under the knob of my front door as I’d seen on TV. It made me feel marginally better, but my sleep was still totally jacked.
Despite being exhausted, I was up with the dawn, the rising sun chasing away the fears that come in the dark of the night. I’m so thankful the store is closed today.
After I get my locks changed, I am definitely going to need a nap. I’m dragging even though I've already had two enormous mugs of coffee. I fire off a quick text to Jo to let her know I’ve survived the night.
I sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island and pull out my planning notebook to work on my European buying trip. The distraction will help to pass the time until the locksmith shows up. I still like working on paper for many reasons, including a vague mistrust of technology and a penchant for a bygone era.
I’ve already purchased my flight and written the details on the first page of my notebook. I make up a page for each day to include lodging, transportation, and contacts for that day’s destination.
I’ve worked in a little time for sightseeing for some can’t miss items since I’m not sure when, or if, I’ll get back to some of these places. I’m really excited about going to Loch Ness, on the top of my top bucket list.
My stomach growls since all I had for breakfast was copious amounts of coffee, so I take a break to whip up a turkey lettuce wrap and slice up some fresh fruit. I’ve got to use up the produce I bought when I was feeling inspired to eat better. The gelato in the freezer is calling my name, but I promise it to myself as a treat tonight for making it through the day.
I sit back down at the kitchen bar, writing more notes as I make my way through my early lunch. I send some emails from my phone to confirm with the contacts I haven’t spoken to in a bit.
Feeling good about the plans for my upcoming trip, I stand and stretch, then take my plate to the sink and grab a seltzer. I crack it open and hear a knock at the door. Taking a quick sip, I set it down and go open the door for the locksmith. I’ll sleep so much better tonight with my locks changed.
Istand at her front door and curl my lip in distaste. I can smell that fucking dog. The disgusting odor curls up into my nose and sneaks down into the back of my palate. I all but gag. Guess I’ll just have to piss on my territory.
With a smirk, I reach out and trace a raven onto her door with my finger, infusing it with my power.
“Take that, you filthy mutt,” I mutter under my breath.
I plaster a pleasant smile on my face and knock. I can’t wait to chase this taste out of my mouth. And I know just the flavor I want instead.
A delicious cocktail of equal parts innocence and desperation, with a dash of shame, garnished with a slice of lust. My mouth waters in anticipation. This will be better than my own bourbon.
Iopen the door and my jaw drops, shocked when I don’t see the locksmith on the other side.
Luke in bespoke steampunk is hot.
Luke dressed as a robed raven-masked fire spinner, is enthralling.
Luke standing at my front door with the sun behind him, casually leaning back against the railing of the landing in a t-shirt and jeans, is fuckingexquisite.
The light glints on his loose red hair as it cascades down his shoulders like a halo of fire. He looks like Hephaestus limned in sunlight. My eyes trace down his fiery locks, taking in the tight t-shirt straining over his lean muscular body, down to the black matte raven belt buckle at the waist of his fitted and artfully ripped jeans. Even his sneakers are awesome, black leather high tops covered in small spikes.
He holds up the missing garment bag with a wink. “You forgot something.”
I stand staring at him, shocked he would have driven it here today.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asks.
