Page 1 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
Chapter 1
Toby
“Ithink my neighbor is a serial killer,” I whispered, peeking out from behind the drapes to the house next door.
“Toby, are you writing dark romances again?” Josh sighed.
“And,” I added, ignoring his long-suffering tone, “I think his eyes glowed red the other night.”
“So it’s paranormal dark romances, then,” he grumbled.
“I’m serious, Josh!” I defended, walking away from the window and heading into the kitchen to ruffle around in the pantry. There had to be… ah, there they were. Potato chips. Who needed a full meal when there were potato chips?
“You know, when I was in the yard the other day talking to my PA, I asked how long it took someone to bleed out from being stabbed in the stomach, and my neighbor was walking by, and he said, ‘It depends on the depth of the wound and the size of the blade, so anywhere from a few short minutes to days.’ And then he just kept on walking, like it was a totally normal conversation. Josh, who knows that sort of information and treats that as an everyday topic of conversation?” I asked, crunching on some chips.
“Are you eating potato chips? Toby, that isn’t dinner,” Josh groused. “And do you remember when we had an hour long conversation on ways to be electrocuted?”
“Yeah, so?” I asked, ruffling through the bag for the chips that were curled. They totally tasted better when they were curled in half.
“Soyou, Toby. Someone likeyouknows that kind of information. He’s probably a writer. Or maybe a doctor,” Josh reassured me.
“Or a serial killer,” I added, giving an “Aha!” as I found another curly chip.
Josh sighed again. “He’s cute, isn’t he?”
“OMG yes, he’s totally hot. All big and strong and scary looking. He’s tall, and I think he’s got a couple tattoos, although sadly I haven’t seen him with his shirt off. I can’t wait for lawn mowing season,” I admitted, still crunching away on my chips. “Not that I’ll be mowing my lawn. Ohhh, do you think maybe I could gethimto mow my lawn? That would be so hot.”
“You want a serial killer mowing your lawn?” Josh asked.
“Hah!” I shouted into the phone. “You admit he’s a serial killer!”
Josh sighed again. He had no appreciation for my mental prowess.
“Why don’t they make bags of potato chips that arejustcurls? I bet people would buy them by the droves. The curly chips always taste better,” I commented, shaking the bag around to look for more curly chips.
“They’re called ruffles, Toby. Focus, please—we’re talking about your non-serial killer neighbor,” Josh reminded me.
“Nope. Ruffle chips are… Well, they’re ruffled. Those aren’t curls. These are like fully curled in half but they’re straight chips,” I said, crunching loudly.
Josh sighed again before asking, “Why do you think he’s a serial killer? Aside from the tattoos, the hotness factor, and your current writing project?” Josh asked.
“I don’t think he works. He’s always coming and going at odd hours, and he wears a lot of black, because you know that hides the blood stains better…” I began.
“Or it’s just his aesthetic,” Josh cut in.
“And you know the house next door has a basement,” I went on, totally ignoring him. “He blacked out the basement windows, but I see lights on down there at odd hours of the night. Plus, when I was up at like 2 am the other night, he was carrying a rolled up carpet or something into the house over his shoulder,” I finished triumphantly.
“First of all, if his windows are blacked out, how can you tell the lights are on?” Josh asked.
“Duh, because a little light escapes,” I said around a mouthful of chips.
“At this rate you won’t have room for dinner,” Josh warned me, but I ignored him, still crunching away. “And I’ll give you that redecorating at 2 am is weird, but peeping on your neighbor at 2 am isalsoweird. One might even say stalkerish,” Josh added.
“I amnota stalker!” I defended. “Being curious about one’s neighbor is normal behavior!”
Josh laughed at that. “Toby, you know I love you, but you are definitelynotnormal.”
I grunted around the chips in my mouth, rolling up the bag and going in search of a clip. I probably wouldn’t have room for dinner, but I hated cooking for one person anyway, so I wasn’t too worried about it.
