Seconds later, there’s a tapping sound, and then a terrible sound that has me imagining nails clawing the length of a chalkboard.
“Maybe it’s that giant tree beside the house or a rat in the walls,” Nolan says.
“That was no tree or rat.” I want to ask him to lock the door or at the very least walk with me, but pride keeps me silent as I move to the door, locking it before flipping on the outside lights. It’s starting to get dark by eight, a warning that autumn is near. I move to the window to the left of the door, a small rectangle we always keep the shade drawn on because it’s at the base of the stairs and makes evading solicitors impossible if we’re downstairs. I grab the string to pull the shade up, as Nolan moves to my side. A strange and foreign sense of calm breathes air into that balloon of false bravado in my stomach, the sight of his biceps a reminder that few would likely provoke him. “It’s probably some kids or something.” I tug the shade up with a jerk and come face to face with a tall, menacing man, making a crazed expression, mouth open wide, revealing his teeth as he growls.
Fear paralyzes me as he raises an ax and begins to laugh maniacally.
The sound of my screaming silences his horrifying laughter.
He takes a step back, swinging the ax over his shoulder with both arms, the window his clear intent. I’m not even turned around as I begin to hurry back out of the way, considering where the safest place in this house is to hide and wait for the police. I stumble, my foot tripping over the bottom step that has me falling, hitting my wrist and butt hard against the steps as I fall.
I scramble to get to my feet, crawling up two stairs—anything to gain distance.
The man outside lowers the ax, his demeanor flipping like a switch as his laughter turns from cruel to joyful.
“You were so afraid,” he yells through the window. “That was awesome.”
Nolan steps into view, gaze tracing over where I’m still sprawled across the stairs. “Shit. Are you okay?” He makes another track over my body before meeting my eyes, concern dancing with what I think is anger. “I didn’t mean for that…” He shakes his head. “Are you all right?”
Too much is happening for me to fully process his expression or his words. My heart’s still beating too fast, ignoring the sting on my hip, and the loud laughter of the guy outside as adrenaline encourages me to run or fight while the rest of my brain recognizes the threat isn’t real.
He makes a third lap of my body with his gaze, his blue-green eyes meeting mine, then he squats in front of me, the familiar scent of bergamot washing over me. “Are you hurt?”
I slowly shake my head, the waning adrenaline causing a familiar hollowed space in my chest, as I realize how ridiculous I must look, prone against the stairs. I sit up, feeling a dull pain that promises a bruise against my calf as my cheeks blaze with mortification, recalling how loudly I screamed. How fast I jumped back. “I’m fine.” Physically, at least.
Nolan’s shoulders seem to fall as he breathes a sigh of relief, but shame pinches his face. “I didn’t mean for this to go that far. I’m sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I dust off my knees as though I can dust off my embarrassment. “All I can say is, you’d better watch your back.”
Nolan pulls his head back, visibly shocked by my response.
“And no more axed men or anything else that will give me nightmares for the next decade.”
He shakes his head. “No. This was a mistake. You were right. We should have called a truce.”
“Hey! Is she mad? Did she think I was the dude fromThe Shining?” Nolan’s accomplice yells before banging his fist against the door.
I grip the lip of the stair to push myself up but pause when Nolan holds out his hand.
“I really didn’t mean for it to go that far.” The apology laces his words, softening his voice with regret.
I release my hold of the stair and slowly slide my hand into his warmer, larger hand. A frisson of awareness shoots up my arm and down my spine, warming me as I soak every callous marring of his palm, and contour of his hand to memory. I try to imagine what his rough hands would feel like against my skin, my back, my thighs. I ground those thoughts before they can take flight as I raise my gaze to his. Dark sea-colored eyes stare back at me, too warm, and too dark as they pierce every inhibition reminding me to avoid him.
His fingers constrict around mine and then he hauls me upright, barely shifting as he does. Muscles have never been a prerequisite for things I want in a guy, but desire notes every one of Nolan’s muscles, imagining what his bare chest looks like as I stand nearly toe-to-toe with him, so close that I can feel the warmth of him radiating against me. So close that one—or both—of us should take a step back to meet customary norms.
“Hey!” A fist pounds against the front door. “Is she raging? You told her this was your idea, right?”
I slip my hand from Nolan’s, and slowly lower my hand to my side but don’t move. He doesn’t either, and I briefly wonder if his skin is tingling and objecting to the loss of me like mine is.
“Payne!” the man bellows, pounding on the door again, breaking whatever strange bubble had formed, stopping time for a few full seconds. Nolan drops back and opens the door, revealing the same dark-haired guy. He doesn’t look nearly as intimidating or terrifying, instead, his smile is warm, almost handsome, though I refuse to acknowledge the fact. He steps into the house, swinging the ax at his side.
“That was so great. We should have recorded it. You were like,ahhhh!” He holds both hands up, doing what I hope is a poor impression of my reaction before he chuckles, and takes a step closer. “I hope there are no hard feelings.” He offers his hand. “I’m Lenny.”
“Be glad you don’t live here,” I say, shaking his hand.
Lenny gives a belly laugh, ignoring my cold demeanor like it’s a joke. “You made my entire week.”
“You’ve helped give direction to mine.” I glance at Nolan.