Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 217988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1090(@200wpm)___ 872(@250wpm)___ 727(@300wpm)
Now, he came here whenever he could to watch over her.
She calmed him.
Helping her gave him a buzz of satisfaction. He was the only one who could soothe her when she had a nightmare.
He was really quite remarkable, wasn’t he? Was there anything that he couldn’t do? Sometimes, he even amazed himself, and he was well aware of just how magnificent he was.
When she was quiet again, he reached for the pacifier that had slipped out of her mouth, sliding it back between her lips.
Sliding back under her bed, he brought up his kill list.
Plenty of work still to do.
Such fun.
3
Where was this water coming from?
“No, no, no!” she cried as she put her hands over the water firing out of the shower.
Quick tip. That never worked. All it did was make it spray up into your face.
She needed to turn the water off. But where did she find the main? Outside. It was likely outside, right?
Spinning, she slid on the puddle of water on the floor, her ankle twisting under her.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouchie!
Wet clothes clinging to her, she limped through the house and turned off the alarm before opening the front door. She screeched as she saw a man standing on the other side. He stared back at her in shock.
“Can’t talk. Water everywhere! Got to turn it off.” She pushed past him, making her way down the stairs.
Sure, it crossed her mind to be worried about a strange man at the door. But there were other things to stress over right now, like the water filling up her bathroom.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Do you know where the main valve is?” he called out.
“No. Is there meant to be a sign or something? Aren’t they supposed to label that sort of thing? Why doesn’t owning a house come with a manual?” she wailed, pushing her fingers through her tangled hair.
“Um, well. It’s got to be around here somewhere, right? Let me look up where it’s likely to be.” He brought out his phone while she limped around like a mad woman, looking for an arrow and a sign saying: ‘water main is here, dummy.’
Okay, that was unlikely to happen, but still. A girl could hope.
“This website says it’s likely to be in your basement,” the stranger told her.
“But I don’t have a basement.”
“Oh, right. Shoot. That’s a problem. Okay, near the front of the house. Maybe the garage.”
“You take the front of the house, I’ve got the garage,” she said, limping toward the separate garage. “Wait! What exactly am I looking for?”
“Um, well.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “A red or green handle or knob.”
“Right. A Christmas knob. Got it. Ha! That makes it sound like Santa’s cock. Knob. Get it?”
He stared at her in bewilderment. Yeah, she got that a lot. Brad hated her sense of humor.
Why had she dated that jerk?
But instead of grimacing or looking disgusted, this guy just grinned. “Yeah, I get it. Now, find Santa’s knob!”
“On it, Boy Wonder! Come on, knobby-knob where are you? Mrs. Claus wants to play.” Fuck, where was it?
“Found it!” he yelled.
“Oh, thank God.” She walked as quickly as she could out to the front yard where her new best friend stood next to the corner of the house. She glanced down at the red lever.
“Damn, not a knob at all.”
“Afraid not. But the water should be turned off now.” He gave her a shy smile. Immediately, red filled his cheeks and he moved his gaze over her shoulder.
What? Why wouldn’t he look at her? Oh no! Did she have something on her face? She shivered, suddenly realizing that she was standing outside in soaking wet clothes while her ankle throbbed in pain.
A gasp escaped her as she glanced down and saw that her hard nipples were pressed against her soaked T-shirt.
“Oh, my God!” she cried. She wrapped her arms over her chest. “Don’t look.”
“I’m not, I promise. I didn’t look. Well, I did, but only for a minute. I didn’t mean to!”
With a small screech, she turned and limp-ran up the stairs and into her house, shutting the door behind her. Walking to her bedroom, she stripped off and then got dressed in some dry underwear, a T-shirt, sweater, and pants.
“Please, let him be gone. Please, let him be gone.” She moved to the panel by the front door to check the outside camera.
Great. He was still there.
And he was cute. In disheveled way. He wore a green T-shirt with an open flannel over the top. His hair was down past his ears, and parts of it were sticking up, as though he’d been running his fingers through it.
He pushed his glasses back up his nose, looking around almost nervously.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She couldn’t believe that she’d just run outside without checking first. She never did that. Well, not anymore.