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Rubbing my eyes and forehead, I can’t help but chuckle. This woman is astounding. I bet she’s had as much sleep as I have, which is to say, none. Yet she climbs a tree.

With a simple tap on my phone, the blinds near my desk open. It would be rude not to give her a little show.

Sitting back in my chair, I prop my head with one arm as I send a quick text to her.

Good evening, darling.

The camera blurs for a moment as she struggles to pull the phone out of her pocket. I watch her suck her plump bottom lip between her teeth, and my cock stiffens. Her eyes roll with exaggerated theatrics as she reads the message. Adorable.

Fuck you.

I should really assist her in polishing her literary skills. Not that I should do anything for her. Where the fuck did that come from?

I will if you ask nicely.

Her lips purse as she reads the message. Her eyes narrow before her thumbs swipe ferociously at the screen. I get her message and nearly double over with laughter.

The only thing I’d ask you nicely is to fuck off. Rosy Palm is calling your name, asshole. Why don’t you go answer her.

Absolutely not. This is so much fun. Besides, I’m not about to jack off in front of an open window when a woman is using binoculars to see in.

Grimacing, she brings the binoculars up to her face and scans the backyard. She freezes as they land on the pear tree. Smile for the camera darling. Her binoculars fall, revealing her incandescent eyes.

Her shoulders slump. She turns and begins placing everything in her bag. Her palm rises to rub her eyes. The motion causes my chest to tighten. A hollow feeling sets in my bones.

Standing from the desk, I move to the window, trying to get a glimpse of her. The shadow I cast falls across her back as she descends the tree, capturing her attention. With fingers curling into the bark, she cranes her head to peer up at me. Her fixed expression has the smile vanishing from my face. She nods before continuing her descent. I rub the ache in my chest and watch until the fence obscures her from view.

I don’t even think before I’m running downstairs and slipping on my jogging shoes. The woman may be a menace, but she’s risked her neck once already tonight by climbing a damn tree. Letting her walk through a park at night, alone and exhausted, is not an option. Running out the front door, I turn the corner and slip through the section of broken fence I refuse to repair.

Stepping into the park, I close my eyes and tune my ears to any sound that might let me know which direction she went. Sand shifts somewhere to my left, and I take off at a moderate pace. The void of her silhouette against the city sky ambles along slowly as I step between the trees. Her footsteps halt as she turns to face me. Freezing, I pray the absence of light provides enough to hide me from view. She rubs her neck before turning and continuing through the park.

Patience reaches the edge of the park and crosses the parking lot. I scan for her car, but it isn’t there. She walks up to a Mini Cooper, and a bright smile crosses my face. When did she buy that? A stupid part of me hopes she was thinking of me when she bought it. Standing in the tree line just out of sight, I watch her taillights fade into the distance.

A sinking feeling overwhelms me. She hasn’t slept. I could see the exhaustion painted across her face. On a camera. At a distance.

Turning on my heel, I sprint home, stopping just within the door to grab my keys. A few minutes later, I’m following one of the preplanned routes to her house. It should save me at least eight minutes. I’m just hoping it’s enough.

I pull into the driveway of the vacant house I’ve rented for the past few months and step out. Making my way to the alcove of the gated entry across the street from her houses, I settle in for her arrival. I don’t have to wait long. Her car pulls into the driveway minutes later, splashing me in a veil of red light. Moving deeper into the shadows, I watch her lean legs spill out the side of the car.

Rising to full height, her head whips in my direction. She stands for a moment, peering through the darkness. I swear this woman has a sixth sense.

Her eyes narrow before shaking her head and trudges up the walkway. Her tiny form becomes nearly invisible as the overgrowth shields her from my line of sight. Something that has been driving me insane the past few months. At one point, I considered trimming it down as a kindness, but Mark convinced me to leave it be.

The windows in her bedroom flicker with light, before going dark. Did she go to bed that quickly? She’s not done that before. Is someone else there? A multitude of scenarios flood my mind. None of which I find acceptable. Slipping my earbuds in, I pull her contact card up and hit the call button. The phone rings twice before being sent to voicemail. This is not the time for fucking games. Gritting my teeth, I hit the call button again. It rings only once before going to voicemail. I fire off a warning.

Answer the phone or I’ll come inside.

Three dots appear, then disappear. My thumb hovers over the screen, ready to swipe out another warning. The dots blink across the bottom of the screen, and I pause.

Are you fucking serious? Asshole.

The “asshole” signature at the end of her text eases some of the tension between my shoulders. At least I know it’s her.

Obviously. Answer your phone.

I hit the call button one more time. When the fourth ring sounds through the earbuds, I can’t help the roll of my eyes. I take a step forward to cross the street, and the ringing stops. Her clipped voice sounds through the phone.

“What?”