A first for me. I’ve been way too lax on this job, way too distracted.
With no hesitation, she storms across the street, and I can’t take my eyes off her.
Even when she’s angry she’s fucking beautiful.
With the sun setting behind her, she appears like a goddess on a warpath.
The path heading straight for me.
A secret thrill shoots through my veins.
This isn’t the way I’d hoped to see her face to face again. I envisioned meeting her somewhere far more private, where the two of us were wearing a lot less clothing. I’ve spent days distracted by this woman, days waiting to have her in front of me again. What is it about her that has my mind so completely ensnared?
She closes in on the car, never slowing her pace.
I’m so stupidly caught up in how fucking stunning she is, that I don’t notice the baseball bat.
Not until it’s too late.
Not until she lifts her arms, pulls back, and swings.
Not until I hear a loud crack, and shattered fragments of plastic explode in every directions, raining down onto the hood and asphalt.
“What the fuck?!” I shout through the windshield, cursing under my breath as I struggle in my haste to get the goddamn seat belt unbuckled.
I watch as she swings again, breaking what’s left of my headlight. It takes only seconds, but it feels like minutes when the belt finally comes free. Flinging open the door, I haul ass to get to my feet.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you fucking crazy?” I shout, rounding the hood.
Her eyes widen in recognition for a split second before her expression darkens.
She doesn’t flinch as I move toward her, doesn’t back down.
She doesn’t answer my questions.
She simply cocks her brow and lifts her arms to swing again.
“Whoa! Whoa! Stop!”
Without thinking it through, I raise both hands placatingly and move between her and my car. It’s either the smartest move I’ve made, or the dumbest, but I don’t have time to second guess the decision.
Thankfully, she stops mid-swing.
Taking a step back, she rests the wooden bat on her shoulder and stares me down.
“Wanna tell me why the hell you’re out here smashing my car to pieces?” I ask, a little more calmly than before.
The blonde snorts and cocks her hip.
“You wanna tell me why the hell you’re parked across the street from my house, watching my family like a fucking creeper? Don’t think I don’t fucking recognize you. Did you follow me home the other day? I’ve seen you watching us. Watching my niece. Did you think we wouldn’t notice? You got a thing for little girls you sick fuck?”
“No! Hell no!” I interject. I was content to let her say her piece before I tried to talk her down, but I’ll be damned if I let her accuse me of being a pedophile.
“Then give me a damn good reason why I shouldn’t call the police.”
“You? I should be the one calling the police. You smashed in the front of my car with a baseball bat!”
Her grip tightens on the bat and her eyes narrow.
I’ve said the wrong thing. I know it.
“Okay, listen. Put down the bat and I’ll explain.”
A mirthless chuckle slips between her pouty lips. “Yeah, no. I don’t think I will. You’ve got sixty seconds. Talk.”
Eyeing the bat again, I take a step away from her.
She’s got a fiery temper for such a little thing, and it may turn me the fuck on, but I don’t trust her not to swing.
“My name is Jake Strickland. I’m a private investigator.”
“Is that supposed to impress me?”
So much fucking sass.
“I’m looking for someone and I was told they live at your address.”
“You ever hear of knocking on a fucking door? It’s much more effective… and not at all creepy or stalkerish.”
She looks at me pointedly, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“It’s not always that easy, doll. People lie, and I can’t always take that chance. I need to find this person. I’ve been looking for a long time.”
“They in some kinda trouble? You sure you’re a P.I. and not a cop?” she asks, arching a perfect brow. “Who are you looking for anyway? The only people here, besides me, are my sisters and my niece. I can’t think of a single reason you’d be looking for any of us.”
I can think of a thousand reasons to look for her alone.
But I keep that to myself for now.
“No trouble,” I tell her since she’s finally letting me get a word in. “And no, I’m not a cop.”
“Prove it.”
Slipping my wallet from my back pocket, I pull out one of my business cards and pass it to her. She studies it for a minute, then pins me with that stare of hers again. Challenging me.
“Anyone can have business cards printed for a few dollars.”
Huffing out a breath, I take off my hat and run my fingers through my hair as I make a quick decision about how to proceed. I either bullshit my way out of this or go for a more direct approach.
Truth wins out.
I pull out my business license and hand it to her.
“I’m looking for Riley Rose.”
I watch her face carefully as she inspects it, but much to my frustration, she gives nothing away.
“Why?” she asks, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Can’t tell you that.”
It’s her turn to get frustrated. She pushes my license back into my hand.
“What can you tell me? Are you sure she’s not in any kind of trouble?”
Bingo.She gave me confirmation and doesn’t even realize it.
“She’s not in trouble. I only want to talk to her.”
Her posture relaxes. It’s subtle, but I notice the difference. Shifting her stance, she finally lowers the bat and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I don’t—”
“Lexi!” Our heads whip in the direction of her house where the redhead stands, poking her head out the door. “I need you.”
I look from her back to the pretty blonde.
Lexi.
I resist the urge to say her name aloud, to feel how it tastes on my tongue.
She glances at me for a second, then back to her friend.
“I’ll be there in a minute, Penny.” She turns to me. “I gotta go.”