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THE new campaign Susan had me working on was for a local gym. Susan wanted us to keep an open mind while brainstorming our work, so she never told us which business we would be working with during the initial brainstorming period. This lasted usually a week or two before we had our first meeting with the client. She wanted our “creative juices flowing without prejudice.” I guessed it made sense. If it was a business you weren’t crazy about, you probably wouldn’t have felt like using your best ideas for it.
By the time I finished up at the office on Friday, I had more ideas for the gym that I wanted to lay out on paper at home. I was old-fashioned like that, and I was way more creative on paper than I was on a laptop or tablet.
After work, I skipped going to the gym and, instead, headed straight home. The only stop I made was for some chocolate-peanut-butter ice cream at the store—because if you were going to skip the elliptical, you should have a good time doing it. I was feeling a little down about not going on a blind date tonight. I knew people always dreaded blind dates, but if I didn’t go on a date, how would I ever find my soulmate?
When I got home, I shuffled the bags of groceries—because I was incapable of buying only one thing at the grocery store—to one arm so I could unlock my door. I unlocked and opened it.
A tornado must have touched down in my neighborhood because the inside of my house was a disaster.
My living room was trashed. Magazines were thrown across the room. The bookshelf was tipped over onto the living room floor. Some of the books were thrown about the room. Pieces of Landon laid scattered across my living room floor. No cactus deserved that type of death.
Couch cushions were on the floor next to the kitchen bar.
My heart skipped a beat as I took in the disaster that was my house.
Someone had broken into my house.
I set the groceries on the ground then opened the coat closet. As I pulled out my baseball bat, I heard a thump come from the back of the house as I crept toward the hallway. Something crashed in the laundry room, and then the back door slammed. I peered inside the laundry room. The back door was still shaking as if someone had slammed it.
Someone had been in my house. Someone was in my house when I got home. My heart prepared for takeoff. I fumbled to pull my phone out of my pocket to call the police.
Who would—
I forced my mind to stop flailing around. I ran to my room. My laptop was still there. My tiny TV still sat in the living room.
My ancient iPod was still there. There was nothing missing. Whoever had done this hadn’t stolen anything of value. I didn’t have much of anything that was valuable, so maybe the thief had assumed I’d have some nice things. I lived in a nice neighborhood; they probably thought I owned expensive electronics or maybe nice jewelry.
I glanced out the living room window toward Hagen’s house.
That was when I realized the truth: Hagen had done this.
This was because I tied the garbage can to his truck and he pulled out without noticing. Sure, it had strewn garbage everywhere, but that wasn’t even close to the amount of destruction that he had done to my house.
Our pranks had been escalating for some time now, but this was too far. What would happen next? Would we kill each other? I’d already shot him with a paintball gun. What could stop me from shooting him with a real one?
I knew one thing was for sure. I had had enough. I couldn’t believe I had let this little tiff go this far. Now I remembered why I had wanted to squash that Boone immaturity.
Before I banned all of my Boone heritage, though, I was going to tear his head off. Then, I was going to make him pick up the mess he made of my house.
I opened my front door and marched across the street.
Knocking on Hagen’s door with my baseball bat, I could hear country music coming from inside.
Uncultured Philistine. There were three unfamiliar cars parked in front of his house and in his driveway. Maybe his friends had helped him trash my house.
If he didn’t make this right, I was going to call the police.
I wished I had taken the time to change out of my work clothes. My navy high heels were pinching my toes, and my short yellow skirt and navy sleeveless blouse didn’t seem very intimidating—and I wanted to look intimidating. What kind of clothes did scary people wear? I wasn’t sure. I’d have to research that.
The door opened.
Hagen smirked as he looked me up and down. I knew the moment he realized I was carrying a baseball bat. His eyes widened, and he started to swing the door closed, but I threw out an arm and pushed it open again. Seeing his panicked look made me feel better.
I marched inside and slammed the door. It was only the second time I had stepped foot behind enemy lines, but I was too focused on the jerk standing in front of me to pay attention to his lair.
“You’ve gone too far this time.” I gestured at him with the baseball bat. “This is it. We are done. If you even look at my house, I will call the cops. If you set foot on my lawn, I will taser you. If you even think of using my trash can, I will stuff you in it!”
He cleared his throat and wrapped his hands around the baseball bat that was poised at his chest as though it were a sword about to pierce his heart. Not a bad idea, actually. I’d have to call Great-Uncle Arnold and see about borrowing a sword from his collection.
“First off, if I’d known you would be this upset about it, I wouldn’t have done it. Second of all, I don’t think I would fit inside your trash can.” Then he smiled—like it was completely normal to destroy your neighbor's house and then accuse them of overreacting.
“My couch! My favorite coffee mug! Landon! My drawers! I heard you slam the back door just now. You probably broke something in the laundry room. How did you sneak back so fast?!”
I pointed back and forth from my house to him with my baseball bat. He looked at me with a confused look on his face. “Wait. You think I was at your house just now? I wasn’t!”
I snorted. “At least if you’re going to do something, take credit for it.”
He took a step toward me, and I stepped back against the front door. He was looming again. I didn’t like it when he loomed. It was too distracting. It made me all too aware of how attractive he was.
I poked him in the chest with the bat. “This little war is over. Trashing my house goes beyond a practical joke.”
He snatched the baseball bat from my hand and grabbed my arm. This must be the part where I got murdered, so I did the only acceptable thing. I screamed. Loudly. Maybe Dave would hear me and come help.
Hagen grabbed the back of my head, and I got a mouthful of his cotton T-shirt as he slammed my face into his chest.
“Be quiet, the babies are napping.”
I swallowed a scream and tried to remove my face from his hard chest. Did he say “babies”? He must kidnap small children as a side hobby to terrorizing the neighborhood. How diversified.
“You have a baby? What house did you take it from?”
He stepped back enough for me to look up at him, but he kept an arm around my back. “It’s not my baby; it’s theirs.” He jerked his chin to the side.
In my heels, I was tall enough to see over his shoulder—just barely. Sure enough, we had an audience to our little heart-to-heart. Lovely.
A couple in their thirties sat on the couch, holding hands, a baby asleep in its carseat next to them. Another man was standing by the back door, holding a beer. A third man sat at the bar, eating a sandwich. Another woman sat in Hagen’s recliner, rocking a sleeping baby. They all looked equally amused by the local impromptu theater.
“Same time next week,” I said before I spun around and tried to open the front door.
I didn’t even make it past the doorframe before Hagen grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside.
“What happened to your house? I wasn’t in your house just now. Ask anyone here.”
He spoke quietly, and I glanced over his shoulder to make sure his guests couldn’t hear. They had all turned back to their conversations and the game on TV.
I looked back at Hagen's green eyes. He looked concerned. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“You mean, you didn’t run out of my laundry room and slam the back door ten minutes ago?” I whispered.
Hagen’s lips formed a hard line. Gone was the semi-permanent smirk when we were sparring. Now, it was replaced with a focused look as he slowly shook his head.
I closed my eyes and let out a breath as I realized what he was thinking. “Someone broke into my house.”
“Who ran out your back door?”
“I thought it was you.” I licked my lips so that I could speak again. “They were still in the house when I got home.”
Hagen blew out a breath before he wrapped his arms around me. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until his arms surrounded me. It felt good...safe.
“Thank God you’re alright. You could have been hurt! Why do you have a baseball bat?”
“My first thought was that someone had broken into my house, so I grabbed the bat. Then, I figured that you were the one who did it.” I gulped. “Except, someone did break into my house, and I got home before they were done.”
Hagen stepped back then wrapped his arm around my shoulders and guided me into the living room.
“Hey, Rick, someone broke into her house. Do you want to make the call?” Hagen said to the man sitting on the couch next to a tall, beautiful woman.
The man stood up and pulled a cell phone from his pocket at the same time. His face was grave as he held the phone to his ear. No one spoke, but someone muted the TV, and the country music shut off.
Rick stepped into the kitchen, and he spoke quietly into the phone. The woman who’d been sitting in the recliner came to stand next to me and shifted the baby-bundle to one arm. A dark, curly head rested on her shoulder.
She touched my arm. “Are you okay?”
I tore my eyes from the sleeping infant in her arms to the soft smile on her face. “I think so. I don’t think they even took anything, so that’s good.”
“I’m sorry. Even if you’re not missing anything, it’s scary knowing a stranger was in your house. I’m glad you have Hagen here.”
Hagen’s arm tightened around my shoulder. He was looking at me with those warm, green eyes again.
Now I felt guilty for assuming that he had destroyed my house. We might have been crazy, but I was definitely the more destructive of the two of us.
“They’re sending a couple of officers. I told them you would wait here with me,” Rick said as he stepped back into the living room.
Hagen explained, “Rick’s a detective in town. He’ll make sure they do everything they can.”
I tried to stiffen my legs to fight the shaking, but it only made it more exaggerated. Hagen squeezed my shoulder.
“I don’t know why I’m shaking.”
“You chased a burglar out of your house in high heels. Anyone would be shaking after that. I’ve heard it's a workout just to walk in heels.” He winked at me as he led me to the couch and gave me a gentle push. When he wasn’t trying to make me mad, he could be pretty sweet. Not to mention, picturing him trying to tiptoe around in heels would make anyone smile.
“Now, you sit there, and I’ll bring you something to drink while we wait.”
The woman holding the baby sat down next to me. “I’m Linley.”
I reached out to grasp her extended hand. “Kylie.”
“This is Kara.” She motioned to the woman on the other side of me.
Kara said, “I’m so sorry you have to deal with a break in. Does anyone else live with you?”
I shook my head. “No, just me.”
“Don’t worry, Rick’s good at his job. I’m sure they’ll catch the person soon,” she said as she patted my hand.
For the next fifteen minutes, Linley and Kara did their best to draw me into conversation and distract me. It didn’t work, but I appreciated the effort, and I found myself getting invited to girls’ night—something I actually looked forward to, even though I didn’t know them at all.
I guess something good came of it, after all.