By Her Side

He turned down her street and pulled his bike up to the curb. Felicity’s apartment was an older two-storey brick home, divided into what looked to be upper and lower apartments. He was so busy glowering at the thick bushes that flanked the front door that he didn’t realize Felicity had gotten off the motorcycle.

“Thanks for the ride, Officer Hamilton.” She pressed the helmet in his hands and headed up the sidewalk.

She was on to him.

He sprang off his bike and followed her up the sidewalk, but before he could formulate a new speech, he was suddenly speechless. The front door was propped open with an enormous purple slipper. Praise music poured out of the opening it created.

So much for security. So much for common sense.

“You live here?” He’d been hoping—no praying—she lived on the second floor. Away from a front door flanked by bushes the size of soda machines that practically shrieked, “hide behind me!”

“You tell me.” She smiled. A completely insincere smile.

Right. She was still mad that he’d looked up her stats.

“Just doing my job.” It was going to become his mantra with Felicity.

She reached down and tugged the slipper out of the door. “Stella? We’re home.”

Chris checked out the door as he followed her inside. Old. Hollow. One lock that anyone with determination and a twisted paper clip could get into.

“Hey!” An attractive woman with a curly mane of light brown hair poked her head out of the kitchen. “What’s with the we’re…”

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