Holding bags of groceries, Faith kicked the door shut with one foot and rushed to set them down on the counter before she dropped them on the floor. Her favorite hot sauce was in a glass jar at the bottom of one of the bags and she didn’t want it to crash everywhere.
It was her third night in her new house. She’d yet to meet her neighbor, although there was evidence aplenty of him. Twice now she’d returned home to find her spot in the driveway already occupied with his bike. She’d had to park on the street. She understood if he’d felt free to use her portion of the driveway while the house was vacant, but it was occupied now. It was occupied and he knew it, which only seemed to further signify that North Callaghan was an ass.
Today had been a good day at work as far as days went. She’d checked in on some of her cases and the children were doing well. They were safe and thriving. She didn’t have to remove anyone from an abusive or neglectful environment. She didn’t have to sit through a tedious court hearing.
And Brendan Cooper had finally asked her out. Wendy, who sat in the cubicle beside hers, had insisted he was going to, but Faith had her doubts. She couldn’t help thinking that moving into her own house had brought her a little luck. They’d worked in proximity for over a year, after all. It took him this long to ask her out.
Deciding to treat herself, she fished her phone out from her bag and ordered chow mein from her favorite Chinese place. And what the hell. She ordered a side of egg rolls and crab rangoons, too. She’d go to the gym tomorrow. As much as she hated it, she dragged herself there a couple times a week.
She’d met Brendan several times at the courthouse over the better part of a year. Even Hale knew him and had nothing but good things to say about him, which was something, since Brendan was a criminal defense attorney. She’d noticed him right away because he was one of the only attorneys without gray hair—or rather with hair—wandering through the halls of the courthouse.
She kicked off her shoes and started putting away her groceries with a goofy smile on her face. He said he’d call her to make the arrangements, but they’d both agreed on this Saturday.
The other night she might have rashly decided to have meaningless sex rather than keep waiting for Mr. Right. Madness. Clearly. Mr. Right might be closer than she thought. She shouldn’t give up on her dreams because her ears—and other parts—had been burning up from the sounds of wild sex. She could have both. Wild sex and Mr. Right. She wouldn’t give up.
After stacking her last Greek yogurt on the top shelf, she closed the door. She’d meant to get to the store yesterday, but she’d had to conduct a home visitation that ran late. She hadn’t gotten home until after seven. At least now she had food for breakfast.
The doorbell rang as she turned for the stairs, intending to get out of her work clothes and into something more comfortable, preferably with an elastic waistband, for the night.
She opened the front door to the already dark night and accepted the piping hot bags of Chinese food, then paid the deliveryman. After shutting the door, she set the bags on her coffee table. Skipping up the steps to her bedroom, she hummed lightly under her breath. She stripped off her blazer and hung it back up in her closet. She tossed her blouse and slacks into her laundry hamper and slid on a pair of well-worn yoga pants followed by a T-shirt.
Faith snatched up a hair band from where she had discarded it on her nightstand and pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail. She started out of her bedroom door, her steps light and happy. She had a date on Saturday night and Chinese food waiting downstairs. Life was good.
Until it started again.
No, not it. Him.
He was at it again.
She twisted her neck around to scowl at her bedroom wall where her neighbor’s headboard was slamming with a vengeance. Again.
“Oh, c’mon. Seriously?” she muttered, turning to glare at her bedroom wall. Propping a hand against her headboard, she pounded on her wall with the side of her fist. It didn’t seem to matter. The activity on the other side of her wall didn’t subside.
It hadn’t even been a full three days. For heaven’s sake, it was a Wednesday night. Then she winced, realizing how very old she sounded. As though sex could only happen on weekends at a designated time in the evening. Was it Serena? Was she back again or was it someone else?
Almost in answer to her thought, she heard a woman’s moans. Different than before. More whimpery. It wasn’t Serena this time. Faith had that sound etched in her ears.
She shook her head. The guy must have a revolving bedroom door. She glanced at her bedside clock. It wasn’t even eight o’clock. This couldn’t be a regular occurrence. Please, no. That would be awful and . . . uncomfortable.
Uncomfortable?