Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

My phone rings again, loudly as it’s patched through the car, making Phoebe jump a little.

She’s still nervous every time we talk about this damned stalker. I’ll really have to act fast.

It’s the delivery service from the mall calling. I was wondering what happened to all our purchases.

“Sorry for the delay, Mr. Bear. But we’re calling to confirm the change of address, your assistant rang and asked to have everything delivered to a downtown address, we’re just calling to-”

At first, I figure it’s just a mix-up. They’ve confused all our stuff with someone else’s.

“Uh, no.” I correct them, butting in. “I gave the address, which is correct to each and every store we shopped at. I don’t have an assistant,” I hear myself barking until it slowly dawns on me.

Phoebe’s shivering in her seat next to me. Hugging her elbows as Trixie starts to whine.

Looks like her stalker’s upped their game. First sending a photo of Phoebe with me out walking and now this.

“Who was this assistant?” I ask. “And what was the address they wanted everything sent to?” I demand from the monotone voice on the other end of the line.

“Sorry, Mr. Bear. If it wasn’t your assistant calling, I can’t give out any private personal information regarding names, numbers, or addresses…”

I feel my hands tighten around the steering wheel, a low growl in my throat.

“Then why are you even calling me? You can cancel the delivery. I’ll be canceling all the sales on my credit card,” I snarl before hanging up, more determined than ever to take matters into my own hands and end this.

“It’s just stupid clothes, Max,” Phoebe says, her teeth nearly chattering she’s so frightened.

“We’re getting to the bottom of this,” I tell her, trying not to let my anger show too much and failing.

I know she doesn’t care about the clothes and everything else we bought but it’s the principle of it that makes me so mad.

How dare someone, anyone, take it upon themselves to make someone else’s life so miserable.

“Let’s just go get my things from my apartment and forget all about it, Max.” Phoebe finally suggests.

As if by her moving away we can just forget about it.

I know she’d like to just switch off from it, but this is escalating and fast. I don’t see whoever it is just backing off.

No point upsetting her any more than she already is, and I don’t want us to start arguing about it, that’s for sure.

“Alright,” I agree. “We’ll just go pick up your things, then maybe we can head out to the countryside after all. I’ve got a place there,” I tell her.

But she’s more concerned about me missing my appointment with the realtor.

“What about your office thingy? Don’t put that off just because of me. You can do that while I get my things organized.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble, “and I’m not leaving you alone for a second. No way,” I insist.

“It’s right across the street, Max. The mall delivery was probably just a mix-up, it’s broad daylight anyway. Who’s gonna come creeping after me in the middle of a Sunday afternoon?”

There’s a tone of caution in her voice too, reminding me she’s still her own person and how me taking charge all the time isn’t always what she wants.

“Fine.” I agree against my own feelings. “But I’ll be right behind you. I’ll be in and out of that office in no time,” I tell her.

“I thought you wanted to keep me on a short leash around the realtor anyway?” I ask, trying to bait her into coming along and staying with me. Both of us together.

She rolls her eyes and gives me a sidelong look. “Nice try, Romeo. I was jealous, for about two seconds, but I think we can trust each other, don’t you Max?” she counters, cocking her brow and making us both laugh, although a little dryly.

“You know you can,” I remind her. “But just come up to the office with me, please?” I beg, hoping that will work if she won’t take any of my bossiness.

She doesn’t answer, picking up Trixie instead, she snuggles her face into her baby’s fur with her long golden locks covering the tiny dog as we drive the rest of the way in silence.

My mind’s reeling by the time we get to the office block opposite her apartment. But Phoebe seems to have relaxed, and cheerfully points out a space she sees as it becomes available.

“You don’t want any more parking tickets,” she tells me with a smile.

Once we get out of the car, it’s clear Trixie wants to go do her business, and Phoebe produces the tell-tale black plastic baggie from somewhere.

“Nature calls,” she chimes, and I move to follow them both but Phoebe looks up at the office, the huge ‘For Lease’ sign on the roof.