Page 18 of The Stalker Snafu

I had a boyfriend. Noah. I loved Noah. Why would it matter if Finn dated someone else? It wasn’t like I wanted to leave Noah.

And obviously I wanted Finn to be happy.

… I just hadn’t expected to lose my appetite at the first mention of him dating someone.

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—Ugh.” Growing flustered, I looked out the front of the tent at the evening sky and latched on to the first distraction I could think of. “You surf at night? Isn’t that dangerous?”

Finn chuckled softly.

“Not if it’s well lit. The moon is almost full, and I usually stay close to the pier at night.” He pulled off his top hat and ran a hand through his chestnut hair, eyeing me. “What time do you get off? You still owe me a surf session.”

“Not until late.” I frowned. “And we should probably wait until there’s a nice bright sun for my first attempt.”

The last thing I needed right now was to break a bone or slip into a coma from a bad surfing accident.

Finn grinned. “Fair enough for a newbie, as long as you try night surfing at least once in your life.”

How could I say no when he pulled out the dimples?

“Deal.”

CHAPTER 6

An Encore

Finn had to clean up his show, so I ducked inside to wash the raw egg off my hands. I’d barely made it five steps out of the bathroom when Mr. Everton almost barreled me over in the hallway.

“Lass, you busy?” he asked in a rush, not bothering to wait for me to answer as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Do me a favor and go grab a bag of powdered sugar from the van, will you? We’re running low.”

“Oh, sure. But I don’t know where⁠—”

“It’s parked on the street right outside the gate.” He squeezed my shoulder, then slipped past and disappeared down the hallway.

I huffed before changing course and making my way through the kitchen house and down the driveway. Cars were still parked up and down the street, but everyone was swarming the backyard, so the front was deserted. I buzzed through the gate and fiddled with a few different handles on the van’s back door until it opened, then grabbed a giant bag of powdered sugar.

As I was turning back toward the house, a black pickup truck idling across the street caught my eye. Big enough I’d need a step stool to reach the door, the thing was a beast. But it wasn’t the truck that made me take a second look—it was the driver.

Creepy Stalker.

He wore his blue baseball cap this time. And if I hadn’t recognized his face in the shadow of his truck, the tattoos wrapping around his arm were a dead giveaway.

“Hey!” I called to my stalker, stepping off the curb without a second thought as to whether I should be confronting him. Dark eyes shot up to mine before narrowing into slits. “First school and now my work? What the heck is wrong with you?”

I cursed myself for leaving my backpack with my pepper spray in Teresa’s car.

My stalker only sighed, and I bristled at his attitude. If he was annoyed, why was he following me?

“Do you want me to call the cops on you?” I asked, pulling my phone out of my waistband. “Because I will! Look, I’ll do it right now.”

His deep voice responded in a foreign language just like before—I still had no clue which one—but he inched his hands into the air again as if he meant no harm.

Great, apparently my stalker was peaceful. I didn’t know what to do with that.

“Raise your hands all you want, buddy, but we talked about this.” I made a show of unlocking my phone. “It’s just creepy to follow girls around.”

His gaze tracked my phone as I began dialing the nonemergency line. I wasn’t sure if this warranted 911, especially since he wasn’t actively trying to hurt anyone. But the stalker must’ve realized I meant business, because he groaned before grabbing the steering wheel with one hand. His other hand shifted gears, and then he was taking off down the street without another glance my way.

I squinted as the truck sped away—trying to get a good look at his license plate—but maybe I needed glasses because I couldn’t make anything out.