Page 22 of The White Picket Fence

In his bed.

No,notin my bed.

Not tonight anyway. Who knew what the future held?

CHAPTER4

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, March 30, 6:30 a.m.

Charlotte stumbled into her kitchen,grateful for programmable coffee machines. It was her favorite blend, guaranteed to wake her up.

She’d slept badly, tossing and turning, startling at every little sound. She’d come out of the restaurant with Tino the night before and had gotten the same weird feeling that she’d had before going in. Like someone was watching her.

Just my imagination.

Unless it wasn’t. It wasn’t paranoia when people really wanted to hurt you.

I should have gone to a hotel like Tino said.

But this apartment was her new home. Even though it didn’t feel like it. Not yet, anyway. She’d been back in Philly for less than six months. She was still unpacking boxes. But she’d get everything unpacked and put away and then it would be home.

A warm body wound around her legs, and she scooped her cat into her arms. “You’re here,” she said to Mrs. Tripplehorn, rubbing her cheek against the cat’s soft fur. “So it’s home.”

She’d fed the cat and poured herself a cup of coffee when she heard voices outside her door. Angry male voices.

And one was familiar.

She checked the peephole and, sure enough, Tino Ciccotelli stood on her doorstep, hands up as if to placate the man shouting at him.

She recognized the man, who lived three doors down. He held a cell phone to his ear, pointing a finger at Tino.

Making sure her robe was firmly tied, she opened the door. “Good morning,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “What seems to be the problem?”

Both men turned to look at her. “He was sleeping on the damn floor!” her neighbor shouted.

She stared at Tino. Sleeping on the floor? Why?

Oh.She’d thought he’d accepted her decision not to go to a hotel way too easily. She’d been right.

More neighbors had started peeking into the hallway and Charlotte needed to shut this confrontation down.Now.

“Tino, did you forget your keyagain?” she asked, grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket and yanking him into her apartment. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the neighbor. “It won’t happen again.”

Because I’m going to read Tino Ciccotelli the riot act.

“This is a respectable building,” the man said. “We do not allow homeless people to set up camp.”

Charlotte frowned. “He’s not homeless.” She held out her mug of coffee. “Have you been caffeinated today, sir? Feel free to take my coffee if you need it.”

Several neighbors laughed and the man’s expression became thunderous. “Watch your step, missy,” he snarled. “The condo board can take legal recourse against you.”

What an asshole.

Tino opened his mouth to speak, but she yanked him farther into her apartment. “No,” she hissed to him, and he wisely closed his mouth. “Sir,” she said to her neighbor, “are you threatening me? Please consider your answer carefully. At least one of our neighbors is recording this on her phone. I don’t think you want to go viral on the internet. This can be over right now. I apologized. I said it wouldn’t happen again. Let it go.”

The man scowled. “Trashy bitches,” he muttered as he turned on his heel and stomped back to his apartment, scowling at the young woman who was openly recording the entire exchange. “Delete that.”

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