However, I can’t help but look over my shoulder again, and then I see it.
It’s just a split second, so I can’t be sure my imagination isn’t fucking with me. But is that a man in a hockey mask?
A shudder works its way down my spine, my fight or flight instinct kicking into high gear.
Now, if there was a masked stranger lurking in the night outside the kitchen, the smart thing to do would be to run for my fucking life.
I live with three burly hockey players. Fighting is a way of life for them, on and often off the ice. Intruders should be the least of their worries. If I were smart, I’d run back into Jamie’s bed. He’s already proved to me that he can protect me if needed.
Instead, my bare feet carry me toward the door. I press my face against the glass, squinting as if that could somehow dispel the inky darkness outside.
If there was anyone outside, they’re either gone or they’re not moving a muscle.
Chances are that there’s no one out there and my overactive imagination is messing with me. And yet, all my senses are on high alert. I don’t know that there’s someone out there, I feel it.
I’m not alone, and my imagination wouldn’t have been enough to turn on the motion sensors outside and trigger the light on the deck. Right?
Against my better judgment, the hand that isn’t holding the glass of water slides the patio door open.
The lights don’t come on until I take a step over the threshold and onto the wooden boards of the deck.
Adjusted to the darkness, my vision fails me and when the light comes on, I’m virtually blind for a few seconds.
Then all hell breaks loose.
“Meow!”
I jump just in time to dodge the black feline that launches itself at me, claws out.
My scream tears into the silent night as I brace myself for the sharp prick of the cat’s claw, but the pain never comes.
“What the fuck are you doing outside in the middle of the night?” the most irritating voice on Earth asks.
Keene
The patio door I came out from a few minutes ago slides open.
Poonani attacks the second the light on the deck comes on.
My reaction, honed by years of playing hockey, is faster than my little feline hellion and I grab Poonani before she can get to her pray.
“Meow!” she cries out, struggling against my hold to hurl herself at Bex and finish the job.
Luke’s sister gasps, her eyes as wide as saucers. She’s quite the sight standing on the threshold in just a hockey jersey. I hate the way my eyes skim over the creamy skin of her toned, shapely legs.
It isn’t lost on me that she’s wearing the number six, Jamie’s number.
“What the fuck are you doing outside in the middle of the night?” I bark out, my tone way harsher than I intended.
Her plump bottom lip trembles, but it’s just for a moment. “I was in the kitchen, getting myself a glass of water,” she bites out. “And I thought I saw an intruder out on the deck.”
This woman will be the fucking death of me. My temper flares. Rather than reassuring her that I didn’t see anyone out here, I go on the offensive. “Really? An intruder? And how did you think of confronting him? Were you going to drown him in your glass of water?”
That was obviously the wrong thing to say.
“Asshole! You scared the shit out of me!” Bex’s arm rears back and its contents hit my chest and face.
“Why did you do that?” I gasp.
