Page 21 of Puck the Halls
The way she puts my name into songs when she’s casually singing.
How she can do a high kick in her mascot costume.
Hopping out of the hot tub I snag a towel from the heated cabinet and wrap it around my waist. I slide on a fluffy robe and step into a pair of the sandals. Even though the December air is cold, I’m on fire from both the hot tub and the knowledge of what I need to do.
Shoot my shot.
Get the girl.
Or go down trying.
By the time I get down a flight of stairs to the middle of the three story house, I hear my Google girl talking in the kitchen.
At least I think that’s her.
If not, then someone else is in the house.
Hell, no, that isn’t happening.
Not on my watch. I told Mr. Armstrong I would protect his house and I fully intend to.
I tighten the belt on my robe and kick off the rubber sandals.
Gotta go into stealth mode.
Phone in hand in case I need it as a weapon or to call 911, I creep down another set of steps to the first floor.
It is the Google chick.
“Motion detected on front steps,” she tells me.
Well, that can’t be good. It’s the middle of the night.
Maybe it’s a raccoon. Do they have raccoons in rich neighborhoods?
I tap the tablet and find a view of the front door.
It’s a person.
A tiny blonde person.
Wearing no hat and no scarf and a denim jacket.
Like she’s from Texas.
Holy shit.
That’s Erika.
I gallop to the front door and throw it open.
Erika blinks, taking in my robe and bare chest.
Then she smiles up at me.
“Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.”
CHAPTER 6
