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No answer.
Scowling, I mosey down the passage and peek around the corner. The front door appears locked. There’s nothing out of place.
“Ugh.” Maybe last night left me paranoid.
Shaking out of it, I continue into the bathroom for a quick shower.
On my way out, a sudden click catches my ears, like the front door closing.
“What…” Nervous, I peek into the living area. Yet again, no one is around.
I walk over to check the door, but it’s already locked. Though, it is the kind of door you can lock from the inside and pull it shut on the way out.
Becoming anxious, I step into the kitchen to check the side door.
It’s also locked.
I try to steady my heart, murmuring, “Stop it, Kay.”
Shrugging it off, I return to my room to haul on a t-shirt and shorts.
Someone knocks while I’m making my bed, and butterflies instantly crowd my tummy.
Getting my shit together, I hurry to answer the door.
Brandon pulls his mouth into a sweet half-smile. “Hey, little artist.”
“Hey.” I invite him inside with a wave of my hand.
“Home alone?” he inquires.
“Yeah. Dad’s at the bakery and Momma just left to meet a friend.” I play with my fingers, feeling a tad off, but have no idea why.
Stepping closer, Brandon asks, “Are you all right?”
I shrug. “Guess I’m still on edge after seeing the room like that.” I pinch my brows as I ask, “Did you make out the person on the camera?”
He shakes his head. “The face was covered. But my dad’s looking into it with the help of the security company and the police.”
Curiosity rises. I gnaw at my bottom lip in thought. “Are your parents upset about me painting in their guest house? Especially since there’s paint all over the walls and carpet now?”
Brandon snorts and turns his head. “Mom’s already having the room cleaned. Neither of them cared we were hanging out alone there.”
I dip my head, turning a bit shy. We’re alone in my house now and can take advantage of that.
When I meet his gaze again, he frowns. “I would never destroy your art or anything you love.”
“Brandon…I’m sorry I accused you. I was just so upset.”
“I get it, little artist. But rest assured that I’ll hurt myself before I ever hurt you.” He lifts his hand to my neck, touching me with pure affection.
He’s getting so much better.
I lean into his hand, drinking him in as if he’s the last drop of water that will save my life. “Why are you like this with me?”
“Stop acting oblivious,” he says, voice husky with desire. “You know damn well why.”
The passion between us heightens.
