“That would be Sal,” I inform the hunter. “Our neighbor. He also does this when our tea kettle whistles and when I…” Great. I’m blushing. “When I sing in the shower.”
Do I detect a slight lip twitch from the big tattooed meanie?
That burgeoning smile disappears when Sal begins his tirade.
“Keep it down in there. I can hear your music through my walls! This is supposed to be a quiet community and you fucking renters are ruining it! I’m sick of this shit!” That’s when he really starts to wail on the house. “I’d like to kill the bastards who allow this. What about my right to peace on my own property, dammit?”
Jude turns off the music, tosses the phone up in the air, catches and holsters it in his pocket like a Wild West gunslinger. “You should hear Sal when Taylor sings anything by Kelly Clarkson.”
“Something about ‘Since You’ve Been Gone’ just triggers him,” I add with a shiver. “Then again, it might just be my singing. I sound like a choking cat.”
“No, you do not,” Jude argues. “You’re amazing.”
My eyes are moist again. “Thank you.”
The bounty hunter drops his head back and sighs at the ceiling. “Jesus Christ.”
I take one more very slow step toward the staircase. “Aren’t you going to say anything about Sal?”
“I’ve made a mental note,” he responds through his teeth. He looks like he’s about to say more, but apparently Sal isn’t finished.
From outside the kitchen window, our temporary neighbor yells. “Tell that bitch to close the window when she sings, before she breaks every mirror in my house!”
I’ve never seen anyone move so fast in my life.
One second, the bounty hunter is there. A dangerous glint occupies his eyes. So dangerous that it actually makes me shudder. And then he’s on his feet, storming out of the house and down the front porch. Sal makes a muffled exclamation followed by something low and unintelligible from the bounty hunter.
Jude and I stare at each other, jaws in our laps.
“What’s he doing?” whispers my brother. “Who is this guy?”
I don’t have a chance to answer because our guest is stomping back into the house, slamming the door behind him loud enough to rattle the hinges. “Guest book. Now.”
I run for the stairs and take them two at a time.
On the top one, I stumble a little bit. When I glance down the steps to determine whether or not anyone saw me, I give a closed-mouth scream. The bounty hunter is right behind me and I didn’t even hear him move. Glowering, he wraps his gorilla-sized hands around my waist and lifts me back onto my feet. “Move.”
“Okay,” I whimper.
He follows me down the hallway and into the master bedroom. My heart is bouncing back and forth between my ear drums and my jugular. My bikini top and cut-off shorts were appropriate downstairs as we are mere steps from the beach and this is Cape Cod, but now? In this plush, inviting—nautical-themed, of course—bedroom, I am suddenly feeling very underdressed and exposed, goosebumps launching to attention on every inch of my skin.
In my self-consciousness, I get defensive. “You don’t have to shadow me.” I kneel in front of my suitcase and frown at him over my shoulder. “I’m getting the book.”
From my position on the floor, he towers over me like a skyscraper. “You were stalling.”
I shuffle aside the sudoku puzzles I brought in search of the guest book. It would be much easier if I opened the suitcase, but my fancy panties are in the mesh side pocket and I think if this man saw them, I would die. “What did you say to Sal?” I ask.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Uh…Taylor. Are you okay up there?” Jude calls from downstairs. “I’m coming up.”
“No, it’s fine,” I call back. Do I have a sort of weird—possibly misplaced—confidence that this man won’t hurt me? Yes. Is he a wild card where everyone else is concerned? Yes. The last thing I want is Jude putting himself in jeopardy. “We’re just talking.” I wet my lips, searching for a way to reassure my brother. “Jude. Coconuts.”
“Be a little less obvious about giving a code word, half pint,” mutters the bounty hunter, his knees hitting the ground beside me. Before I can stop him, he’s thrown open the top of my suitcase. And there they are. My frilly red panties. Right there in the dead center of the case, impossible to miss.