Was he seeing somebody else?
Of course, he had every right to. He and I had never been exclusive – as I'd so stupidly reminded him the other night. And besides, these days we weren't seeing each other at all.
So, why was I bothered?
Atthishour, it was incredibly unlikely that he'd left for the office. And yet, it wasn'tentirelyimpossible.
Unlike Harper, I'd actually worked for the guy. According to friends in Security, Cole had often been the first person to arrive in the buildingandthe last person to leave. And yet, he hadn't mademework those hours. It was true that he'd frowned on tardiness, but he hadn't expected me to live at my desk or stay past regular quitting time.
The recollection offered cold comfort as I started to wonder if I might've misjudged him just a little.Or maybe a lot.
But that was something to think about later, when I wasn't dealing with a tipsy sister hell-bent on revenge.
Finally, with a little more convincing, I managed to hustle Harper back to my aunt's place and then into her bedroom, where I yanked off her boots and practically shoved her onto the bed while suggesting that she sleep it off.
As for myself, I had some cleaning up to do, and I needed to make it quick.
Chapter 22
Cole
When I pulled into the driveway, a hooded figure was standing on my front porch. Silently, I took in the scene. The surprise visitor was facing my Christmas wreath, now littered with long, looping strands of toilet paper.
Under the glare of my headlights, the visitor froze as if hoping to hide in plain sight.
Too late for that.
Hiding or not, I knew who the person was. I'd seen her face from miles away thanks to my doorbell security camera – the one connected to an app on my cell phone.
Unable to sleep, I'd been heading to the office when the app had alerted me that someone had tripped the motion sensor at a time that was far too late for visitors. Confused as hell, I'd watched remotely as the person had toilet-papered my Christmas wreath and then moved out of camera range, presumably to hit the rest of the house.
So here I was – not at the office, but back at the place I called home. I could've called the police, but that wasn't my style. I was more than capable of finding out for myself why a neighbor would see fit to mess with my wreath or anything else.
Was this some kind of prank?
Or was she still ticked about the mix-up with decorations?
Being new to the neighborhood, I had no idea. For allIknew, she was the neighborhood nutjob – the person to avoid if you could help it.
But I wasn't avoidingthis.
When I cut the engine, the figure still didn't move. Her hand remained poised above the wreath, as if making minor adjustments to her earlier handiwork.
Talk about messed up.
With a resigned sigh, I finally cut the headlights, exited my vehicle, and strode up the walkway to see what was going on. I was halfway to my front door when the person slowly turned, giving me a good look at her face.
I stopped in mid-stride.What the hell?
The face – it wasn't the one I'd been expecting. "Lexie?"
She bit her lip. "Uh, yeah."
I strode forward and joined her on the porch. "What are you doing?"
She glanced around, took a trembling breath, and then blurted out, "It's not what it looks like."
Obviously.
