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She looks at her gun and then back at me.
“Keep it with you if you feel safer.”
She flicks the safety on and shoves it into the back of her sofa again.
My eyes flick over her body and stop at the full-length skirt. She follows my gaze.
“You owe me. I fucking love this skirt.” Leaning down, she grabs the hem and tears a split from her ankle up to her upper thigh.
It takes everything within me not to groan aloud.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” she says. “I want a head start.”
I blink.
“Fifteen seconds,” she prompts.
“Ten.”
She scowls but knows better than to argue. Turning without hesitation, she runs past the open-plan kitchen and into the small office space to its right.
“Nine.”
I know that room has three exit points.
“Eight.”
The first she just entered through.
“Seven.”
The second leads outside into a small courtyard enclosed with a wooden structure she would have to climb over to access the backyard.
“Six.”
The third leads into a second sitting room that offers access to a guest bedroom and a hallway that connects back to this lounge room before she could make it down another hallway that leads to more bedrooms or, of course, the front door.
“Five.”
She’s quiet but barefoot on the carpet. I expected nothing less.
“Four.”
No doors have opened, so I discount the courtyard immediately.
“Three.”
I don’t think she’d be silly enough to trap herself in the guest bedroom, so she’ll move toward the hallway and the front door.
“Two.”
My heart thumps with anticipation.
“One.”
I run, launching myself onto her sofa to jump over it. The three-seater tips as I stand on its backrest, slamming to the floor with an echo felt throughout the house.
She’s played enough to know not to make a noise, even if the sound surprises her.
