Page 22 of Welcome Home for Christmas
Chapter 6
It had been a busy Sunday. First church, then Allison had done a few hours of shopping that included running into Troy, followed up by dinner with a few of her girlfriends. Now it was after midnight and she was tucked into her comfy bed, staring at the ceiling. She should have been exhausted, but her eyes were wide open and her brain had Troy on repeat.
His sexy grin was burned into her memory. He’d had a five-o’clock shadow earlier in the day, which had her wondering how it’d feel to have that new growth of hair tickling against her skin. How would it feel to have him kiss her cheek, her mouth, her body? She closed her eyes and let herself entertain that thought, because she may have been single, but she wasn’t dead. She ran a hand along her skin, imagining that it was Troy’s. He was her pretend boyfriend after all. They might as well have pretend sex.
Yeah.
She reached for her vibrator in the drawer of her bedside table. Thankfully, she’d purchased batteries during her afternoon shopping trip. Her vibrator could go all night, just like her pretend boyfriend would. Shimmying out of her pajama pants, she imagined Troy yanking them off her. Then she let her imagination run wild. Her vibrator, too, until she was panting, moaning—why not, no one was home to hear her. She even let herself whisper his name, which ramped up her arousal. His dark eyes burned into her memory.
“Oh, Troy…” Just saying his name out loud sent shivers through her. “Troy…Yeah, right—”
A noise outside startled her out of what was building up to be a noteworthy orgasm. Allison pulled the vibrator to her chest, turned it off to cancel out the motor’s buzz, and blinked in the darkness, her heart suddenly beating out of fear.
Maybe it was one of the stray cats that sometimes lingered outside. She sat up and listened, hearing nothing.
Yeah. It was a cat. That’s all.
She inhaled and blew out a slow breath.
Then the sound of her doorknob turning jarred the breath inside her.
Oh, God.Someone was at her door. And they weren’t knocking; they were breaking in!
She scurried back into her clothing, heart beating so hard she could barely breathe. Where was her cellphone? She glanced around the dark room. She couldn’t turn on her light; the robber would know she was home. What if he came after her? She felt around on her nightstand, grabbed her phone, and ran toward her closet, shutting herself inside.
Why the hell didn’t closets have locks?
She’d dead-bolted the front door, but that didn’t stop robbers who were determined. There’d been a lot of talk of recent break-ins in her area. Thus the whole reason she was raising money for Mercy’s Place. She listened hard, trying not to breathe or make any noise. Was the robber inside her home? Still outside? Her heart was beating so forcefully she couldn’t hear.
She pressed the button on her phone, making her screen light up. She couldn’t call 9-1-1 and talk to an operator. What if the sound of her voice alerted her intruder that she was calling the authorities? What if he decided he had to take her out?
Texting was quiet, though. Allison pulled up her list of contacts and paused at Troy’s name. He’d been the last person to text her. And he lived close by. He was a police officer and…
Her fingers tapped along the keyboard onscreen.
PLEASE HELP ME! SOMEONE’S BREAKING INTO MY HOME RIGHT NOW!
She waited, praying that he was still awake and had his phone on him.
Please, God. Please, God.She was ready to pass out from fear as she listened for any sign that someone was in her town house. There was another noise, but she couldn’t decide if it was inside or outside her front door.
The screen of her phone lit up with an incoming text.
ON MY WAY. HIDE!
She hugged the phone to her body. The closet wasn’t exactly the best hiding place, but as long as the intruder didn’t see her face…Because if he saw her face, he’d have to kill her, right? Or had she watched too many mob movies?
No one was going to get her, though. Troy was coming. He’d help her.
She nodded to herself, fighting back tears.
—
Troy called 9-1-1, then he climbed into his truck and pressed the gas. He’d beat the cops. Her town house was only a five-minute trip. He’d make it there in three minutes, tops.
And God help any intruder he found sniffing around her home.
Troy rounded the corner onto Allison’s road. His truck fishtailed onto the shoulder before he corrected and plowed forward. A minute later, he squealed into her driveway and hopped out, gun at his side. He left his lights on. The local police department knew him since he sometimes worked with them on cases that involved Camp Leon. He’d given them the heads-up that he’d be here, too. Scanning his surroundings, he approached Allison’s front door, which had obviously been tampered with. The idiot burglar dropped the credit card he used to get the lock open.
