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“Dean was sidelined because I freaking knew better than to keep dating someone when my life was a giant mess of crazy.” I stared at the moving light with narrowed eyes. “Do we have to recap this now? What if I’m about to get murdered?”
“You realize I live in Portland, right? I’m not going to be much help,” he drawled. My eyes narrowed because the drawl sounded a little slurred. Parker never drank.
I was about to ask, but the flashlight moved again, swinging past one of the windows, and I ducked back behind the tree. Why was it so dark outside? Why had I decided to read one of Harlow’s thrillers instead of watching a nice, happy, fluffy romance like a normal hormonal pregnant woman who wasn’t getting any sex?
Let’s not dive into the psychology behind that decision—where a creepy fricken stalker story felt safer than watching someone else getting laid. But of course, the downfall was that now I felt like someone was breathing down my neck, icy nerves prickled along my skin, and sure, I had the Taser from my purse, but that shit still had to be used inveryclose proximity.
Not my first choice, if a serial killer was finding a giant piece of wood to clock me over the head.
“Iknowwhere you live,” I said. “I just wanted someone on the phone in case I get attacked.”
“Or maybe you don’t go out to the shop and call someonefrom the safety of the locked house,” he said so obnoxiously that I had a vivid fantasy of punching him in the throat if he were in front of me. “Call Jax. He’ll come check it out. Isn’t that part of his baby daddy job now?”
“No,” I hissed. “He doesn’t have any … baby daddy jobs.”
“Well, it looks like you need a keeper, so maybe he should.” The door opened, and music flooded the background again. “Go inside. Call someone local, and text me when the murderer has been apprehended.”
“You arenohelp.”
“That’s what brothers are for,” he said in an annoyingly level voice.
The call disconnected with a click, and I growled under my breath. Thumb tapping the side of my phone, I considered my options. If I called the cops and it was nothing, everyone in town would know.
Through the eerie darkness of the trees, there was a crack of a branch, and I sucked in a sharp breath when, from the tree directly above me, a previously invisible owl let out a low, bone-chilling hoot. Emitting a high-pitched shriek, I whirled, black Taser facing forward.
My breath was coming in embarrassing pants, but nothing was in front of me. I let out a shaky exhale and winced when the baby kicked down toward my bladder.
“Lord, I can see it now,” I whispered. “Pregnant woman—too friggin curious for her own good—accidentally tases rare owl and then pees her pants.”
Fumbling my phone, I decided to take Parker’s advice and call Jax. Eyes locked on the windows so I didn’t miss anything, I watched the flashlight pivot to the side, and his deep voice filled the line.
“Poppy? What’s up?”
“I’m not sure,” I said slowly. The nerves made my voice tremble a little and I winced.
“Are you okay?” he asked sharply.
“Umm, I think so. Do you have a minute?”
There was nothing but deathly silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds. All I could hear was my pulse roaring in my ears and a slight exhale from Jax. “Yeah, of course.”
“You’re not … out, are you?” The following hesitation had me wincing. It was a Friday night.
“Sort of,” he hedged.
The image of him at a bar, or even worse, walkingoutof a barwithsomeone, sort of made me want to curl up in a ball and hide. But hey! At least I wasn’t thinking about a murderer standing two feet behind me because that image made me want to shoot fire at some invisible woman who may or may not exist.
Pregnancy hormones were so, so fun.
“Never mind,” I said miserably.
But no. There was no never mind-ing happening. “What do you need, Poppy?”
The flashlight was stationary now, and I backed up a couple of steps now that I had an actual helpful person on the phone. “Well, it’s probably nothing, but Parker yelled at me when I was going to check it out myself because everyone is gone right now, but I think maybe someone’s breaking into the woodshop,” I said in a tumble of rushed words.
It was a strange time for Jax to practice breathing exercises, but that was what it sounded like. The house seemed like it was a mile away when I glanced over my shoulder, and sure, if I ran for it, I could probably get there quickly, but I hadn’t run voluntarily in ages.
“Poppy,” he said slowly.
