Oh, Cap…
I feel myself smiling as I let my mind drift off to that night, which was the only shining moment in the shit show that has been my life. But just as I feel my eyes starting to grow heavy, and memories of Cap’s smile flashing in my mind, I hear a door slam. I think it’s coming from the back of the house. My eyes shoot open, but I don’t move from my position on the couch. I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I just do my best to hear where the noise is coming from and formulate a plan, because I refuse to be the dumb blonde who gets killed first in the horror movie.
How does my brother not have a security system? Nothing went off when I walked in, though I was too tired to realize it at the time. I didn’t think going on your honeymoon alone could get worse. Nope. It can. Because you can be the victim of an ax murderer.
I hear footsteps growing louder. They are heavy. Like he’s wearing boots. Which is also odd for Florida in August. But not odd if he plans on dumping my body in a nearby forest.
I really need to stop watching true crime shows before bed…
I slowly roll off the couch, trying my best not to make a sound. When I get to the floor I reach around and find one of my shoes. It’s not the best weapon, but at least they have a little platform on them. I’m sure it could do some damage if I put some weight behind it.
Oh, who am I kidding…I’m a one-hundred-twenty pound, five-foot-three female who is surviving off caffeine and stubbornness at this point.
But as my parents say, I’m tiny but mighty. And the ax murderer is about to learn that firsthand.
The footsteps stop, but they got pretty close. Maybe he’s at the edge of the living room? I take that as my cue to slowly creep up from a crouching position, priming myself to pounce on the intruder.
There he is. His back’s to me so I can’t tell what he’s doing. But it gives me a few more seconds to size up my adversary.
Fuck, he’s hot…
Well, at least from the back. Strong thighs wrapped in denim. An ass that looks damn good in said jeans. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that’s clinging to his back muscles, and his light brown hair is curled out underneath a ball cap. It’s giving sexy modern cowboy, and I’m here for it.
Which is odd since that’s not usually my type.
And odd because he’s about to kill me.
Stella! Focus! There’s a stranger in the house and you need to go all Home Alone on his ass.
With an internal pep talk, and fueled by the pending anger stage and a lack of sleep, I launch myself in the stranger’s direction.
“Ahhh! Danger! Danger! Get out of my house!”
I wield my shoe above my head as I run toward him. My plan is to jump on his back and just start beating him with it. I think. I mean, that’s the plan. Except it doesn’t matter because right before I jump onto him, the man turns around. His reflexes are definitely catlike as he catches me mid-air. Somehow my legs wrap around his hips.
But these aren’t just any hips.
They’reCap’ships.
Cap is catching me.
Cap is the ax murderer.
Cap is here.
In Florida.
In Simon’s house.
“Tiger?”
I wiggle and push myself out of his hold, which he doesn’t protest. My breathing is heavy, bordering on hyperventilation, as I take a few steps back.
Because what the actual fuck?
I have to be dreaming, right? That’s it, I fell asleep on the couch and I’m having the realest dream of my life. Yes. That’s it. Because Cap isn’t here, and that wasn’t his ass I was staring at, and those weren’t his arms holding me like I was nothing.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my breath still heavy.
