Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46260 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 231(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
I stare at the lone cupboard still hanging on the wall. I imagine it staring back, gaping open, the shelves mocking me, the door long gone and neatly stacked with the others.
Bring it on, pussy. That’s right. Have at me.
I curl my hand around the pry bar I’m still holding. “You’re going down, you bastard. One ass kicking coming right up.”
And no, in case anyone is wondering, I don’t think it’s strange to be standing in my kitchen in the middle of the night, talking to a cupboard. Not after the encounter I just had. Not after the past few months. After all that, conversations with cupboards are pretty much on par for the loners.
CHAPTER 5
Lu-Anne
I wait until an appropriate time the next morning before I dial Leanne’s number. She answers on the fifth ring, her voice heavy with sleep.
“Hello?”
“Leanne! It’s me.”
“What’s wrong?” She instantly sounds more awake and alert.
“Nothing. I mean, no. There isn’t an emergency. But there is something. Okay, there was a bit of an emergency, but I’ve dealt with that.”
“What are you talking about?” She sighs into the phone. Then, in a shriek, she exclaims, “My god, it’s seven in the morning! What kind of depraved, sick animal are you that you’d call me at this hour?”
“I have something to tell you. It couldn’t wait.”
I spent a sleepless night stalking around my living room to cool down after my encounter with the ultra-hot, ultra-creepy neighbor. I got an eye-full of his bulging hot muscles last night. He was rocking the t-shirt he had on in a big way—a seriously big hot way. His arms were toned and bulging out. His freaking pecs and eight-packs were clearly outlined by the cotton he had on. He also towered over me. And oh, he smelled good. A little woodsy. A little sweaty. But it was a strange mix, and it was even stranger that I thought it was hot.
What I did not think was hot was that the guy was an asshole. And exactly as I thought, a dangerous one. When I finally cooled off after I stormed back to the house, I realized how stupid it was to go over there. I clearly interrupted something. Now he knows I caught him doing something sketchy. The guy was holding a freaking weapon and had plastic all over his living room.
“Hello? Are you still there? I’m waiting for some crazy good story as to why you’re calling. Are you going to leave me hanging now that you’ve so rudely woken me up?”
“I’ve been up all night,” I sigh. “It all started with a spider.” As I pour myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen—the sixth one since four this morning—at least I think—I recount the incident with the spider and how I ran over to the neighbor’s house for help.
“Are you crazy?” Leanne interrupts me. “Why would you go over there at three in the morning?”
“Well, I know the guy is a night owl or whatever. I could see the lights on. I knew he was probably awake.”
“Still. That’s just wrong.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Try and sleep in the bed with the spider? Jesus. Did you not hear me describe it and its obviously evil intent? It was trying to kill me.”
“Right. So, you went to your neighbor’s house for help. This doesn’t have anything to do with your super weird obsession about him?”
“No! It was panic. I didn’t even think about it! I’ll admit it was stupid, but it didn’t feel stupid at the time.”
“So, what did he do?”
“He didn’t help me,” I snort. I sound miffed, and I know it. “But that’s not it. He answered the door holding a freaking pry bar.”
“A what?”
“A pry bar.” I sip slowly at my coffee. It’s the end of the pot, bitter as old medicines with the fuzzies at the bottom of the brew settling down in my cup. “You know, the thing you like break into people’s houses with.”
“No, I wouldn’t know,” Leanne responds dryly. “How do you even know what it is?”
“Well, you know. When I got this house from my grandma, it needed repairs. I do have a general working knowledge of tools.”
Okay, so my dad and brother basically did all the work here before I moved in. Still, I did help to the best of my ability, which admittedly, is limited. No one was pissed off that my grandma decided to leave the house to me when she passed away. It was like she knew I needed a helping hand in the world as I was not made like my brother or my parents. I might just scrape by with my writing, but at least I don’t have a mortgage to pay for. I could always get a roommate if I needed help paying the bills.