“Did you set the alarm before you left?” I question, thinking the whole situation odd. I’m pretty sure it would sound if someone tried to open the window once set.
“Just like Jace showed us. Wasn’t it still set when you got home?”
“Uh…yeah. It was. Did you open my bathroom window before you left?”
“I wasn’t in your bathroom. You know all my junk is upstairs.” Shit. Okay, don’t panic. “Charlie? Is everything okay?”
“Um…every thing’s fine. I must have forgotten to shut it this morning. Enjoy your date. I gotta go.” I disconnect the call and quickly regret it. I should have kept her on the phone. Idiot.
“Hello?” I call out, creeping into my bedroom. Of course, no one answers back. Thank God. I quietly close the bedroom door and lock it.
I swiftly pull on a pair of sweat pants and ratty T-shirt, unsure what to do next. I know I’m being silly, but I’m having trouble coming up with a logical reason for the damn window to be wide open. Maybe the alarm guys left it open, and I never noticed. But I know that’s bullshit because I definitely would have seen. Right?
All of a sudden, the house feels eerily quiet. I grab an old softball bat I keep in the closet, just in case. My anxiety is up to a thousand, and I’m slapped with the urge to call Jace. I should run outside and tell the other guy watching the house, instead, but I can’t control my fingers when the dial his number.
“What’s wrong?” He picks up on the first ring.
“Jace,” I say in a shaky voice. “It’s me, Charlie. I think someone was in my house.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in my bedroom. With the door locked. The bathroom window is wide open. How could someone open the window when the alarm’s set?”
“Where’s Chris?”
“Outside. I was afraid to walk through the house to get to him.”
“Okay. Stay in the room and keep the door locked. I’m calling Chris now. I’m already on my way to you.”
“Can you…stay on the phone?”
“Fuck. Let me just call Chris and tell him what’s going on, and I’ll call you right back.”
“Okay.” I let him hang up and stand by my door with my Louisville Slugger.
A minute later, Chris is knocking on my bedroom door. “Miss Brooks? Are you okay?”
I inch the door open and peek out. “I’m okay, just spooked myself a little.”
“She’s good,” he croaks into his phone. He listens to the other end before grunting, “Got it” and hanging up.
Eight minutes later, I’m sitting on my front porch watching Jace’s truck zip into my driveway. He jumps out like a wildcat and races up my front steps.
“You okay?” He gulps when he sees me sitting there.
I nod my head. “I’m fine.” I let out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry…it was stupid to call you. I…”
“Come into the house. Sit and relax while Chris and I check everything out.” He holds out his hand, and I have no problem taking it as he leads me into the kitchen.
I brew a pot of coffee and sit at the kitchen table while they check out the house. They don’t find anything unusual and conclude the screen’s old and broken and must have fallen out of the window. Chris thinks the alarm company may have left the window open, but Jace’s scowl tells me he doesn’t agree. I’m not sure what to think either, but it’s creepy as fuck.
Jace sends Chris to get himself dinner for an hour, with clear instructions not to let the house out of his sight when he returns. After making sure everything is locked down tight, he accepts the coffee, pulling out the chair at the table next to me.
“Someone’s fucking with me.” I clutch my cup with two hands and put it to my lips.
“Maybe.”
“I’m sorry, I called you. I was a little freaked out. It’s been a long day.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for calling me. I’ll be pissed if you don’t.” He grunts his response, and I chuckle. I’m used to his brass demeanor by now. He’s such a caveman.
“Well, I’m still sorry I disturbed your evening. You can to get back to whatever it is you were doing.” I’m sure he has better things to do. Maybe he was with a woman. It’s none of my business, but the thought makes me green with envy.
His deep, earthy brown eyes bore into mine. Jace clutches his coffee cup tight with both hands. I imagine those fingers on me. I know exactly how they make my skin light up like a Christmas tree.
I’m not starting anything with him. We fucked once. That’s it. Now he’s my bodyguard. He’s assigned to protect me. E. N. D. of story. I’m about to say something to break the awkward silence when his stomach makes a growling noise like a wild boar. I let out a soft chuckle, and he grins.
“You should do that more often,” I say.
“What?”
“Smile. You don’t smile nearly enough.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Mmm.” I rise from my seat and walk my cup to the sink. “Have you eaten yet?”
“I should go.” He stares at me but doesn’t move.
“I was going to make a quick tomato sauce. I can have a spaghetti dinner ready in thirty minutes. The least I can do is feed you since you're here.”
His shoulders slump. “Okay. Let me help you.”
I hold out my palm when he pushes back his chair. “I got this. You sit. Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” He leans back in his chair.
I remove two domestic bottles from the fridge and hand him one. I twist off the cap and take a long swig from mine, before removing the ingredients I need from the fridge and pantry.
“Where’s your sister?”
“Another hot date tonight. You know college students,” I scoff, continuing to sauté fresh garlic and onion in some olive oil until the mixture caramelizes. He’s quiet, studying me intently as I crush some whole, canned tomatoes with my hand before adding them to the pan. It should be awkward having him here, after the push and pull going on between us, but it’s not. It’s nice. Comfortable.
“So racing, huh?”
“Yup. Loved it since I was a kid.” I add in some fresh basil and oregano, turning the sauce to simmer. The pot of water begins to boil, so I add in the pasta. Setting a timer for seven minutes, I place some dishes in the table for us. “I was a bit of a tomboy growing up.”
“Yeah, but how’d you get into racing?” He folds his arms across his chest.
“My dad spent his life at the track fixing cars. He would take Lilly and me go-kart racing as kids.” Remembering how much fun it was makes me smile. “I was hooked. Lilly, not so much. She hated it.” I chuckle. “It started out being about spending time with my dad. Turned out, I loved the sport and everything about it.”
“It must have been hard…being a woman. I don’t mean anything by it…I just know, not everyone has an open mind.”
“It was tough. Still is sometimes.” The oven timer beeps, and I dump the pasta into a strainer. “I may have dabbled in illegal street racing for a while.”