Chapter 2 #3
Skylar spied her laptop on the table. She glanced to her window, and crouched down onto her knees again, traversing across the floor to reach it. Slow and deliberate, she snatched her laptop, backed into the hallway and tucked herself into the bathroom, locking the door.
“Thank you, Jesus.” She sat on the toilet seat and flipped open her laptop. Like a slap in the face, the red battery symbol flashed taunting her with its dire death warning. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
She creaked open the door and spied its cord dangling off the kitchen table. Scrambling once again on her hands and knees, she crawled toward it. As she wrapped her fingers around the cord and tugged on it, she jumped, startled at a loud banging on her door.
Rippled with fear, she froze. Her head hung forward, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. How could he be out there still? Why won’t he go away? I’ve got to get someone to call the police.
Silence remained for several seconds, and she made the split decision to run to the bathroom. Inside with the door slammed shut and locked, Skylar began frantically typing out a text to her friend to send the police while switching back to dial her phone app from her laptop.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Each knock grew progressively louder.
“Jesus,” Skylar mumbled under her breath, her fear morphing to rage. She creaked open the door and peeked down the hallway into the foyer. “Go away! I called the police!”
“I have your purse,” a deep voice called back to her.
Her body responded instantly, blood rushing to her face. The guy from the bar? Oh my God. What is he doing here?
“Hey, I got rid of that sack of shit in front of your house. I guess something must have happened for you to leave your purse outside.”
“What is he doing here?” Relief flooded through her. She closed her eyes, a swirl of excitement coursing through her body.
“I can leave it on your doorstep. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ummm…I’ll be right there.” Jesus, Sky. What are you doing? “Just give me a minute.”
She shoved to her feet and made her way to the front door, attempting to fix her tousled hair.
After releasing a deep breath, she stood on her toes and spied through the peep hole.
Her heart pounded as her eyes locked on his.
She had no logical reason to trust him. But the flutter in her stomach dimmed any chance of logic winning.
With caution, she unlocked the door and peeked around its edge. She held onto the pepper gel on the remote chance she was wrong as she cracked the door open an inch. She looked up to him, as the butterflies in her stomach continued to dance. “Hello.”
“Hey, I’m sorry to scare you.” He shot her a sexy smile.
The smooth rumbles of his voice rolled over her driving warmth throughout her traitorous body. “I…I’m sorry.”
“Hey, are you all right?”
“I’m…yeah, I’m okay.” She rubbed the back of her head, her scalp still sensitive. “Wait. Where is he?”
“Let’s just say that guy won’t be bothering you again.” He extended her purse.
“Did you call the police?” she asked.
“No. No phone.” She held up her purse with a goofy smile, quickly tossing it onto the bench. Inwardly, she cringed. Don’t be a dork. “I was trying to text a friend on my laptop.”
“So is your friend coming?”
“My friend? No, she’s probably at the bar still.
” As Skylar spoke out loud, her sense of self-preservation kicked in, her mind churning, questioning why he was on her street.
Her brows furrowed. “Now wait. How did you know where I lived? Were you following me too? I mean, sorry. You were nice enough to get my purse…but what are the odds?”
“Okay…very good question. I imagine the odds are pretty low, but my friend actually has a place near here,” Rafe laughed. “We stopped for some beignets on the way back. It’s a small world.”
“Feasible. But I don’t believe in coincidences.” So that’s why he left at the bar without saying goodbye? She gave a closed smile as she looked both ways down the street. Not a soul in sight. “Did your friend help get rid of that guy who was bothering me?”
Rafe shook his head with a sly smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. I can’t say.”
“Hmm. You sure your friend lives in this neighborhood?”
“Yeah, he’s got a place. I swear. Any more questions?” He cocked his head.
“Do you have any more of those beignets left?”
“I always get more than one.” Rafe opened his coat and revealed a white bag.
“Lots of coincidences here. I mean what are the odds of that. You sure you’re not a serial killer?”
“I’m not a serial killer. The odds of that are one hundred percent. But I do share.” He winked at her, his eyes lit with mischief as he offered her the bag of beignets.
On one of her last nights in New Orleans, she couldn’t resist the mysterious stranger who tempted her. Her body tingled with an awareness of his presence. Something visceral called to her that mocked any logic left in her mind.
“Do you wanna have a cup of coffee?” Skylar placed her bet. Certain he tasted sweeter than the beignets, she’d let it ride.