Page 32 of My Favorite Hero

I frowned as I drained my water. The digs about her food were unnecessarily cruel. Especially the gravy. And Cal didn’t deserve cookies. I wondered what she would make tomorrow and if I could wrangle my way back into her good graces by then.

I could give her back the damn wind chimes, but that defeated the purpose.

Besides, I was rather enjoying our tussle.

I’d figure out something else. I was sure of it.

I woke up the next morning, stretching. My last day off. Tomorrow, I started my three-day shift, but I had arranged to go in later. The only good thing about it was the probie wasn’t on this rotation, so Miller could come with me. I was sure, despite our little wind chimes war, Casey would look after Miller for me, but I really didn’t want to ask. I had to admit she was epically sexy when angry. It made me want to stab her—but in a totally different way than she thought.

I chuckled at my own joke.

Whatever she had cooked the night before had smelled so enticing, I’d practically drooled the entire evening. How she managed to get the smell into my house, I had no idea, but it was everywhere, making my mouth water. Later, I smelled the aroma of cookies, and I could only gnash my teeth, knowing she was making good on her threat to make cookies for Cal.

It was the worst torture.

The pizza I ate and normally enjoyed tasted like sawdust.

Twice, I almost broke down and returned her damn wind chimes, hoping she would share. But I stuck it out, and now I could hide for a few days at the station, still victorious.

I made coffee, sitting at the table and sipping the hot liquid. I leaned my head back, enjoying the quiet. Casey’s SUV wasn’t in the driveway, so I assumed she was out on errands. She seemed to do a lot of those, but as I recalled, when I’d first moved in, so did I.

As I poured my second cup, I heard her vehicle return, but I didn’t go check. She might still be feeling stabby. That made me chuckle.

I heard her door open and shut, and I wondered if she’d delivered her cookies to Cal. Then I heard her back door open. Miller’s ears perked up and he headed to the door, but the squeaking sound of the garage door opening made me shake my head. “No visit with your buddy today, Miller. Sorry.”

I stood and peered out the window, and I wondered if she was trying to get a tote off the shelf. I hoped she wasn’t so stubborn she’d risk getting hurt to prove a point.

But she came out of the garage carrying a hammer and went inside. I recalled the pictures I had seen. She must be planning on hanging them.

I certainly knew better than to offer to help. I headed upstairs, intent on a long, hot shower, knowing the next few days I would only get short ones.

When I got out, I dried off quickly and pulled on my sweats. I was towel-drying my hair when I heard it.

The distinctive sound of wind chimes.

I tossed my towel on the bed and headed downstairs. I opened the front door, looking around. I didn’t see anything. No twigs or shells, no pieces of glass or bells.

But I heard it.

I jumped off the porch, looking everywhere. There was nothing on the porch. Nothing by her back deck.

But the damn bells kept tinkling.

I circled the house, finally looking up. Dangling from the eavestrough were wind chimes. Right outside her bedroom window. And standing in the window, looking down at me, was Casey. She leaned out. “I didn’t attach anything, and you said no wind chimes on the porch.” She spoke in a triumphant voice, obviously thinking she had beaten me.

“I can hear it in my house,” I snarled.

“It’s breezy today.”

“Take it down.” Then a thought occurred to me. “How the hell did you get it up there?”

“I borrowed Trevor’s ladder. From next door.”

“You climbed up all that way? You could have fallen!” I yelled.

“Trevor spotted me.”

“Trevor is a sixty-year-old man with a heart condition.” I glared at her. “It’s coming down, Katharine Casey.”