mail? Her brow furrowed. Had the estate agent already been and collected them? No, that didn’t make sense. Not over a weekend. She stood in the darkness and debated her options. Technically, since the house was sold, she was trespassing. Or breaking and entering. Did it count as breaking and entering if she had a key?
Sod it.
She hovered in the doorway for a second. Well, she was here—in for a penny, in for a pound and all that. She might as well check the kitchen to see if the mail was there.
Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her. Her footsteps were silent on the soft carpet as she weaved her way through the dark house. It felt weird being in here alone. All the furniture was gone, the rooms empty and eerie, walls bare of the photos Mrs. Phelps had cherished of a family who never visited her.
That had annoyed Daisy. Her parents had died when she was a teenager, and she had no grandparents or other family. She’d have loved a grandmother like Mrs. Phelps.
She headed into the kitchen and froze when her heels clattered against the tiles. A chuckle escaped her. The house was empty, so why was she so jumpy? It wasn’t like anyone was going to catch her, not at this time of night. Spotting the pile of mail on the counter, she smiled in triumph.
Mission accomplished.
*
Will heard the sound of a car pulling up through the semi-doze he’d fallen into and listened to the engine until it pulled off. Perhaps it was one of his new neighbors heading in after a night out? Eyes still closed, he wrinkled his nose. Seemed a bit late. So far, they’d all looked like part of the silver brigade, all retired and more likely to be breaking out the cocoa than busting a move on the dance-floor.
The rumble of a pull-along suitcase up the drive made him nod to himself. The owner of the house next door had returned, from a holiday rather than a club by the sound of it. That made more sense. He’d have to pop over tomorrow and introduce himself.
He shifted under the duvet to get comfortable, his big body relaxed in the large bed. It was the only bit of furniture he’d managed to move in. The rest would arrive tomorrow, but he hadn’t been able to wait to sleep in his new place. The first house he’d bought. His career had really taken off in the last couple of years, even though he was a few years older than most players. First he’d signed with the Strathstow Sharks, and then tried out for the national squad. Yeah, this year was so his year.
His eyes snapped open at the sound of a front door being unlocked, which he didn’t have a problem with—except when it was his —front door. Frozen in place, he strained his ears to try and catch something else. Some hint of a sound. Was he being robbed?
Catching the chuckle of amusement before it escaped his throat, he sat up in bed, shaking his head. If someone was trying to rob the place, they had to be the most inept thieves in the world. The house was bloody empty. Apart from a couple of mugs, a jar of coffee, and a kettle in the kitchen, the only other items around the house were in his bedroom. With him.
Slipping from beneath the covers, he was light on his feet as he left the bedroom and moved onto the landing. The floorboards were creaky just by the staircase, so he avoided them, stepping lightly on the opposite side to head down the stairs. Well over six feet, he wasn’t a small man, but he could be quiet when he needed to be. Like when someone was breaking into his new home. He’d teach the little wankers a lesson they wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
His bare feet hit the carpet at the bottom of the stairs, right by the front door. They’d closed it after them. How considerate. He lifted his hand and turned the latch on the deadlock. It clicked, the soft sound almost deafening. He froze for a second. No response. No running feet. Good.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, he knew he wasn’t alone. The figure framed in the door into the kitchen was
Sod it.
She hovered in the doorway for a second. Well, she was here—in for a penny, in for a pound and all that. She might as well check the kitchen to see if the mail was there.
Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her. Her footsteps were silent on the soft carpet as she weaved her way through the dark house. It felt weird being in here alone. All the furniture was gone, the rooms empty and eerie, walls bare of the photos Mrs. Phelps had cherished of a family who never visited her.
That had annoyed Daisy. Her parents had died when she was a teenager, and she had no grandparents or other family. She’d have loved a grandmother like Mrs. Phelps.
She headed into the kitchen and froze when her heels clattered against the tiles. A chuckle escaped her. The house was empty, so why was she so jumpy? It wasn’t like anyone was going to catch her, not at this time of night. Spotting the pile of mail on the counter, she smiled in triumph.
Mission accomplished.
*
Will heard the sound of a car pulling up through the semi-doze he’d fallen into and listened to the engine until it pulled off. Perhaps it was one of his new neighbors heading in after a night out? Eyes still closed, he wrinkled his nose. Seemed a bit late. So far, they’d all looked like part of the silver brigade, all retired and more likely to be breaking out the cocoa than busting a move on the dance-floor.
The rumble of a pull-along suitcase up the drive made him nod to himself. The owner of the house next door had returned, from a holiday rather than a club by the sound of it. That made more sense. He’d have to pop over tomorrow and introduce himself.
He shifted under the duvet to get comfortable, his big body relaxed in the large bed. It was the only bit of furniture he’d managed to move in. The rest would arrive tomorrow, but he hadn’t been able to wait to sleep in his new place. The first house he’d bought. His career had really taken off in the last couple of years, even though he was a few years older than most players. First he’d signed with the Strathstow Sharks, and then tried out for the national squad. Yeah, this year was so his year.
His eyes snapped open at the sound of a front door being unlocked, which he didn’t have a problem with—except when it was his —front door. Frozen in place, he strained his ears to try and catch something else. Some hint of a sound. Was he being robbed?
Catching the chuckle of amusement before it escaped his throat, he sat up in bed, shaking his head. If someone was trying to rob the place, they had to be the most inept thieves in the world. The house was bloody empty. Apart from a couple of mugs, a jar of coffee, and a kettle in the kitchen, the only other items around the house were in his bedroom. With him.
Slipping from beneath the covers, he was light on his feet as he left the bedroom and moved onto the landing. The floorboards were creaky just by the staircase, so he avoided them, stepping lightly on the opposite side to head down the stairs. Well over six feet, he wasn’t a small man, but he could be quiet when he needed to be. Like when someone was breaking into his new home. He’d teach the little wankers a lesson they wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
His bare feet hit the carpet at the bottom of the stairs, right by the front door. They’d closed it after them. How considerate. He lifted his hand and turned the latch on the deadlock. It clicked, the soft sound almost deafening. He froze for a second. No response. No running feet. Good.
As soon as he stepped into the living room, he knew he wasn’t alone. The figure framed in the door into the kitchen was
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