Hide Your Crazy (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 1)

It was on my second hour of listening to it when I finally decided enough was enough.

Grabbing the broom that I’d gone and gotten from the kitchen, but hadn’t worked up the courage to use over the last two hours, I walked to the middle of my bedroom and came to a stop at the foot of my bed.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Then, with trepidation, I lifted the broom and tapped on the ceiling.

Lou, who’d been on the end of my bed sleeping blissfully, started to bark.

I whipped my head around and growled. “Quiet!”

He settled down into a low growl, but the stepping, thank God, had stopped.

At least, it did for all of twenty seconds.

Then it resumed again.

Step. Step. Shuffle to the left.

So, I tapped the broom a little bit harder, biting my lip.

Whoever this man was, and it was a man because no woman I knew drove a motorcycle and had size fourteen boots she left by her front door, he had a problem that he needed to kick. Fast.

I couldn’t live like this.

If this continued, I’d have to move out again.

At least the screaming orgies were easy to tune out and only lasted an hour tops.

This had been going on for over two, and it wasn’t likely to end any time soon if my luck held out.

The steps became worse, harder and angrier, and I sighed.

Allowing the broom to fall into the middle of the floor, I looked at my bed longingly.

Tomorrow was my first day at a funeral home in Bear Bottom, Texas as a medical examiner.

It was my dream job. My every single hope and dream was coming true, and I was supposed to be there in a little less than eight hours.

Well, kind of. My dad had gotten me the job.

I wasn’t sure if I was offended or happy that I’d gotten it and he’d taken the time to convince the owner that I would be a good fit for her.

And to top it all off, it was only about a short drive away from me.

Thinking once again that I needed to not overthink it, I sighed in exasperation.

So, my dad had gotten me a job

He’d gotten me a lot of them. And most of them had been good!

Grabbing my thick blanket and pillow on the bed, I tugged them off and pulled them behind me out of the room and straight out the front door.

Once I was there, I closed the apartment door, then sat down in my outdoor Papasan chair that I’d just procured from a garage sale two weeks ago.

Once comfortably ensconced in the chair, I closed my eyes, and tried to ignore the biting chill.

I’d successfully mastered the maximum effort of relaxation that would slowly lull me into sleep when I heard Lou scratch at the door.

“Goddammit,” I growled in frustration, levering myself up.

Once he was outside with me, I pointed to the corner of the concrete and said, “Stay.”

He gave me a bored look and walked behind the chair instead, curling up and laying down on the bag of potting soil I’d bought at the store last night.

Rolling my eyes, I sank back into my chair, only to immediately lever myself up again and run inside for my phone.

When I got back, Lou was in my spot.

“Get off,” I grumbled, snapping my fingers.

He gave me a loud doggy yawn.

I growled, grabbed his collar, and drug him out.

He came somewhat nicely and grumbled and whined the entire time, only to go lie on the potting soil once again with a groan.

Once I was back in my seat and covered up, I closed my eyes, pushed my phone partially underneath of me, and blew out a ragged breath.

When I woke up once again, it was to find myself staring at a man that was clearly not supposed to be on my front porch.

“What are you looking at?” I snapped at the man that’d given me my ticket two afternoons ago.

He looked at me where I was lying on the chair, and his brows furrowed.

“Why are you sleeping outside?” he questioned me.

His eyes flicked around the apartment complex, but seeing as my alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, nobody would be out and about. The majority of the people that lived in this complex were young and didn’t get moving on a Saturday morning early unless there was a drug bust.

Which, from my knowledge, hadn’t happened this month yet.

If there had been, I’d have heard about it.

“Because some loser in the apartment above me doesn’t know how to stop pacing at night,” I answered. “Did somebody call the cops on me sleeping out here?”

I tried, I really did, to look at anything but at the man that was in full uniform, standing not even five feet away from me.

He shook his head.

The movement made the muscles in his jaw flex and bunch, bringing my gaze to his well past five o’clock shadow.