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“I don’t even know their names!” My phone dings again asking if I’m allergic to anything. If he’s a serial killer, he’s a very thoughtful one.

“I don’t think someone who plans to kill you is going to be concerned if you’re allergic to something.” Again, he defends them. What the heck? I respond to the text. Why, I don’t know. I should ignore him. I should change my phone number or block him from calling me.

“You know what. I am going to go over there.” I grab my purse and toss all my stuff inside. It takes me a minute because I carry around a lot of crap. I can’t help myself. I can’t bring myself to throw things away. When you don’t grow up with much, you keep what you have. You don’t discard things easily. Everything has another use. It’s why I went into accounting to begin with. I didn’t want to make some of the same mistakes my mother did. Not only that, numbers never lie. They are what they are. There’s no changing them. “I’m going to go over there and get murdered and you’re going to feel so guilty about it.” I stomp out of the office to a laughing Mr. Higgins.

“You’ll need these.” I stop when I hear the sound of his keys. I turn to see them dangling from his finger. Mr. Higgins has the same habit I do of not being able to throw things out. The man has a few cars and a couple of trucks. One of which he lets me use when I need it. It sits out back. The old beat-up truck has saved me from many long walks. I don’t care what it looks like; all that matters is that it gets me from point A to point B.

“Right.” I stomp back and snatch them from him. “I’ll bring you back some leftovers. If I don’t get murdered.” He keeps on laughing. I finish my stomping out of his office and down through the laundromat. I hop in the truck and before I know what I’m doing, I’m headed to the address that was provided in the text. What is wrong with me? I’m actually going to a stranger’s house. It seems crazy but at the same time, I feel relaxed. I should be more worried, but I’m not.

“You want your tampons back,” I reason out loud because I’m crazy like everyone else around here. I pull up to their place, putting the truck into park. It’s then I realize I didn’t bother getting ready. I was too worried about being late and making Gran mad. Why I cared could be filed in the same folder as to why I am even here to begin with. My eyes flick to the mirror. My hair is a wild mess of curls that are trying to escape my ponytail holder. I don’t have a speck of makeup on.

I look down to my buttoned-up blue jean shirt and yoga pants. I am wearing my rainboots because my sneakers were still wet. I cannot go in there looking like this. The man is crazy but hot nonetheless.

My door flies open and I scream, picking up my purse and hitting him hard with it.

“What the hell do you keep in there?” my handsome stranger asks, pulling the bag from my hold. I sit here with my heart racing.

“You scared the crap out of me!” I shout at him.

“You’re early,” he responds. I actually don’t even know what time it is. I am so frazzled, but I just left and headed here. Some invisible string was pulling on me to get here. He leans in. I freeze thinking he’s about to kiss me but the click of my seatbelt sounds before he pulls me from the truck, his hand locking with mine.

“I don’t know your name,” I mutter from next to him as he leads me into his home where I will likely be murdered. Okay, probably be stuffed with food but still. I need to at least know his name before he kills or feeds me.

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Are you holding your name hostage or something?” I peek over at him through my lashes, making him chuckle. He stops walking to look down at me with a smirk.

“Birdie,” I give in, making his smirk turn to a smile. God, the man really is handsome. A trace of a dimple shows in one cheek.

“It fits.” He starts pulling me with him again. What does that mean? I look like a bird? Well, then he looks like a serial killer.

“Is yours Ted then?” I toss back. He looks nothing like Ted Bundy with his blond short hair and dark green eyes. Not only that, he’s almost twice the size of the famed serial killer, but it’s the only comeback I’ve got. This time he full-on laughs as he leads me into his home with me still not knowing his name.