Page 77 of Captivating Anika

I try to climb behind the wheel of Mom’s Prius, but her seat is so far forward, I can’t even get both legs in there without moving it back first. It’s a nice drive. Much peppier than you’d think. If my Mazda isn’t salvageable, I might have a look at one of these. More environmentally responsible, I guess.

At home, I pull in next to Hog’s Suburban and get out, ducking between the garage and the truck grill to get to the front door. A small Amazon box is leaning against it. It’s probably my protein powder. I ordered it two weeks ago, but it was out of stock.

I tuck the box under my arm as I unlock the door and quickly disarm the alarm. Barreling straight through to the kitchen, I set the box on the counter, and check on top of the fridge where I usually leave my napkins. Nothing there, but when I scan the pantry, I find two packs sitting right next to the paper towels. Tossing one of each in a plastic grocery bag, I hurry back out, set the alarm, and lock up behind me.

I’m just opening the car door when a FedEx truck stops at the end of the driveway.

“Hey, Anika!”

I look over my shoulder to see my neighbor waving from her drive.

“Hi, Alice!” I call back.

“Did you find your package?” she asks as she approaches. “It was dropped off at my door by accident.”

“I did. Thank you.”

The sound of a revving engine has me look to the road to see the distinct white truck driving off down the street.

“Guess he had the wrong address,” Alice observes. “Another idiot driver. I swear some of them couldn’t find their ass in the dark.”

Alice is a card. A high school teacher who retired just last September, she does not mince words or hold back on opinions.

“So…couldn’t help notice you caught yourself a fine one.” She jerks a thumb at the Suburban.

“The SUV? Not mine.”

“Oh, honey, I know that. I’m talking about the tall, silver, hunk of goodness that came with it. I can’t remember seeing him around before?”

I can’t help grin at her not-so-subtle fishing expedition. Anyone else I might be annoyed at their nosiness, but Alice is so unapologetically in-your-face, I find it hard to take offense.

“That’s Hog, and it’s a bit of a long story I don’t have time for now, but the condensed version is: brother’s friend and colleague turned to lover.”

“Sounds messy,” she volunteers.

It has me laugh out loud. “A bit. Anyway, he’s only here temporarily. We’re actually in the middle of moving him into his new place, and I should get back there before they send out the troops.”

“Fair enough. I’ll catch you later.”

She waves and walks back to her place.

I get in the car and am about to back out of the driveway when I hear the chime of an incoming message. It’s Hog, letting me know they’re on their way back. I shoot him a thumbs-up and toss my phone in the grocery bag I dropped on the passenger seat. I should probably hustle back.

I don’t really think too much of it when the FedEx truck pulls in behind me as I drive out of my neighborhood. I can’t see him anymore when I turn right off Florida Road. But when I turn left onto East 32nd a minute later, I note he’s a couple cars behind me.

Delivery trucks are everywhere these days, so it’s not that unusual to see them around, but when the FedEx truck follows me down Hog’s dead-end street, and blocks the end of the driveway after I pull in, I’m on alert.

Turning off the engine, I lean over the gearshift to grab the plastic bag. As I dig for my phone, I keep my eye on the side mirror, and see the driver getting out of the truck, carrying a box. I don’t recognize him, and I instantly relax, noting the guy is wearing the purple FedEx shirt.

Hog probably ordered something for the new place.

I wait for him to walk past before I open the door and step out, only to have him swing around and drop the box. Before I can react, he shoves up against the door, trapping me.

“Kim Cooper, where the fuck is she?” he snarls, his face inches from mine.

This is getting ridiculous. Why does everyone think I know where she is? I don’t even know this guy—I’ve never seen him—although there’s something familiar about him.

I struggle against the door, trying to slip free, but I can’t seem to budge it.