Page 11 of Beauty and the Cop
At least, that's the plan until I lock myself out.
"Dammit," I grumble, the toe of my shoe thudding against the bottom of the door like that's really going to make it open. The hardwood doesn't even budge.
I glance toward Noah's house and then hesitate. If I go over there, he's probably going to think I locked myself out on purpose just to spend time with him. And as much as I'd like to see him again, I'd really like not to be seen as his crazy, stalker neighbor.
For the record, I have totally become his crazy, stalker neighbor. I watch his house so much, hoping for a glimpse ofhim, that I'm basically on an around-the-clock stakeout. But am I telling him that? Uh, hell no. Batman himself couldn't beat that confession out of me.
"Hide a freaking key next time," I grumble to myself, stomping toward the nearest window to see if I can shimmy it open enough to crawl through it.
"I'm going to die balanced on the railing of my porch in stilettos and a micro dress, trying to heft a window," I mutter, trying to inch forward enough to shove the stubborn window up. It moves an inch, and I feel like Superwoman.
"What the fuck are you doing, Dimples?"
"Ahh!"
This is how it ends. Right here. I tumble to my death while the hot cop across the street watches. He's going to see myBite Mepanties and probably laugh while I'm taking my last breath.
My feet slip—stupid shoes—and I list sideways, grabbing for the window like it's really going to save me or my dignity.
It doesn't. But Noah does.
I don't know how he moves so fast, but before I even tumble off the side of the railing, he's at my side, hauling me back to safety. I land against his chest in an inelegant sprawl, all flailing arms and legs. The entire neighborhood probably sees my panties.
"Jesus Christ, Dimples," Noah grunts, trying to contain me before I manage to knee him in the balls for a second—or maybe a third—time.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people!" I cry, because yes, let's blame the man who just saved your life. That's real helpful, Elsie Jean.
"I didn't sneak," he says, setting me on my feet. "I walked. You were too busy doing some fucked up balance beam routine to notice. What the fuck were you doing climbing in those shoes?"
"Trying to open the window."
"Uh, you're supposed to do that from inside, Dimples."
"Igotlockedout."
"What?" He tips his head down, his green eyes meeting mine.
"I got locked out."
"Ah," he says, his lips slowly curving into what can only be described as an annoyingly hot smirk. "And you thought killing yourself trying to break in would be better than asking to use my phone?"
"No."Yes.But I'm not telling him that. Please. I have a smidge of dignity left right now. I'll fight a damn bear to keep it at this point. "I thought I could crawl through the window. I didn't know you were home."
"Right." His smirk grows. "How'd you get locked out?"
"I forgot my keys." I narrow my eyes at him. "I don't remember asking you so many questions when you locked yourself out."
"That's because you were there when it happened, and you know it was your fault."
I splutter at him, which only makes him laugh. And God, I've missed that sound. I barely even know him, and I'm already addicted to his laugh.
This is not good.
"Come on, Simone Biles," he mutters, placing his hands on my shoulders to shuffle me off to the side. "Out of the way so I can break into your place."
"Don't fall," I say. It's supposed to be helpful advice, but judging from the look he shoots me, maybe I should have kept it to myself.
Unlike me, Noah is graceful and clearly far more skilling at breaking into places. He manages to slide the window open in one push without even having to stretch for it. And then he has the audacity to wink at me before he hauls himself inside.
