I picked up my phone and texted my writer friends, Lucy and Skye. I needed some genuine sympathy and understanding.
–Me: Are you sure there’s no way to get away with murdering an obnoxious neighbor?
–Skye: Nope. Trust me on this. There is no perfect crime.
I glared at the text. What did Skye know? Her genre of choice was heartwarming contemporary romance.
–Lucy: Exactly. Especially in a town that small. People are gonna know if somebody’s missing.
Damn it. Lucy wrote gritty romantic thrillers and suspense. If anybody was creative enough to come up with a plan to pull off an unsolvable murder, it’d be her.
–Me: I just can’t write the sex scene with all this noise!
–Lucy: Just put SEX in there as a placeholder and write the other scenes.
I wanted to bang my head against the table. Better yet, I wanted to bang Killian’s head against it.
–Me: I’m a linear writer. I can’t skip around like you do.
–Skye: But it’s just one sex scene, right? You can skip it for now and come back later. I promise. I do that when my kids are home and won’t leave me alone. Trying to write sex with kids around? IMPOSSIBLE!
Point. Her kids were rambunctious. Still, I wanted to whine, because if I couldn’t whine to my friends, who could I whine to?
–Me: I can’t write anything romantic with all that damn drumming. And it’s hard to intuit how the relationship should morph and evolve when I haven’t written out the first sex scene! It has a big impact on the rest of the story, you know.
I added a sobbing emoji.
–Lucy: Why don’t you check into a hotel?
–Me: There aren’t any in this town.
–Skye: Drive to a bigger town, maybe? You only need a few days of quiet to finish the book. Hotels are nice. You can order room service.
True. And I could take my Hop Hop Hoorays with me. Leaving the ice cream behind was sad, but it’d be waiting for me when I came home with the completed manuscript.
–Me: That sounds like a fantastic idea. Thanks, girls. I knew I could count on you.
–Skye: Anytime.
–Lucy: Yup. Sorry we don’t live closer. If we did, I’d let you stay at my place.
I smiled at her offer. Lucy lived in Colorado. A little too far for a sleepover.
–Me: Thanks. But the hotel idea is fantastic. I’m going to look for one right now. Ciao!
Filled with renewed determination and hope, I opened my laptop and looked for a decently priced hotel not too far away. Oh, look at those. There were several within a hundred-mile radius. Not that I really wanted to travel, but it was a workable distance. I could drop by any one of them and get to work in peace and quiet.
Someone knocked on my door.
I frowned. One of many good things about Kingstree was that the town didn’t have door-to-door salespeople. Nor did it have anyone concerned about saving my soul. So unless I was getting a package, there shouldn’t be any knocks on the door…and I hadn’t ordered anything since getting the headsets.
Screw it. I wasn’t going to answer. Who cared if some clueless travelling salesperson had decided to grace my doorstep?
I turned my attention back to the search results. Marriott had a property about an hour away that looked promising. Good price on the room, too. Still, an hour away…
A fist slammed my door with enough force to shake it. “Hey, Emily, I know you’re in there!”
I froze. That husky baritone… It sounded just like Killian, number one on my personal hit list—which I would never be able to act on. What the hell did he want?
Actually, so what if he wanted something? I leaped to my feet, rage boiling over. Wasn’t it enough for him to endlessly bang on drums and other instruments with the damned windows open? Now he had to bang on my door?
Hands clenched, I marched to the door and yanked it open. “What the hell is your problem?” I yelled in my meanest voice, then promptly ruined the effect by letting my jaw go slack.
Oh my God.
Killian was standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. It hung so low that I was afraid it might slip and show me an accidental Full Monty. He was also wet. His hair stuck to his skull, and water droplets beaded and sparked all over his sinful face…not to mention the most gorgeous torso I’d ever laid eyes on.
Forget the wet shirt and low-slung jeans I’d considered earlier. This shot would totally make the most sellable romance cover ever…and push the book to number one in the entire Amazon Kindle store.
For a moment, I wondered if I should ask him to model. Then I decided no…it would only inflate his ego. And I had already bought a photo I liked for my cover.
Regardless of my personal feelings for the man’s personality, my mouth dried. He was sex personified. For a moment, I couldn’t even recall why I was so mad at him.
“Trying to trap flies with your mouth?” Bright laughter twinkled in his blue eyes.
I snapped my mouth shut so fast that my teeth clacked. Now I remembered why I was pissed off at him. All he’d had to do was to say something.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My tone bristled with aggression because that was what he deserved. Based on the smug expression on his too handsome for everyone’s own good face, he knew the effect his almost naked body had and was enjoying it. Son of a bitch.
“Can I borrow some hot water?” he asked.
What kind of question was this? Was he trying to prank me? “What’s wrong with your stove?” I demanded, my hand still on my door. He couldn’t possibly expect me to give him anything, not after what he’d pulled.
“Stove’s fine, but the water heater’s broken. I can’t get any hot water.”
Aaah, I thought with petty satisfaction. Karma got him. I smirked.
“Billy’s Plumbing can’t come for two weeks, so I was thinking I could shower here until then.” He smiled and stepped forward as though it was a foregone conclusion that I’d agree to this lunacy.
It was already bad enough he was harassing me with his so-called music. Now he wanted to “borrow” my hot water? Ha! I blocked him by moving into his path. “Hold it, buster.” His smile slipped a little, and I shot him a bland look. “Why should I let you in? You could be a serial killer.”
Both of his eyebrows went up. “You’re worried about that now?”
“Of course I’m worried about it now. You’re here now. It’s a legitimate concern.”
“Yeah, but…you already opened your door. So it’s kinda too late.”
He had a point. But all the reasons I shouldn’t kill him also applied to him, and he probably didn’t like going to jail either.
“I have a gun,” I said finally. Mom had bought me a handgun, saying a woman living alone needed protection. She hated it that Kingstree was a small town, and the cul-de-sac my house was on was at the outskirts.
“But not on you.” He gave me a why don’t we compromise and be nice smile. “Look, I’m not a serial killer. You can ask the sheriff.”
My teeth clenched. Kingstree’s most unhelpful sheriff’s department. If they’d been more useful, I would’ve already been done with the sex scene and more. “Then borrow hot water from him. I’m not letting you use my shower. It’s a free country.”