British Bachelor - K.K. Allen Page 0,3

alone week—off together, which meant I was always starting or ending my shift at irregular hours. I planned to relish my week without responsibilities, with nothing but my muse churning inspiration in my mind.

When my belly was completely satisfied, I reached for my blue notebook and lay stomach-down on the couch. I took up my black pen that bookmarked the page I had last scribbled some thoughts on and settled for a moment, rereading what I’d written that morning. They were largely character-development notes about a book I’d already written six drafts of but couldn’t drum up the courage to let out of my clutches. I just kept picking it apart, chapter by chapter, until the story had evolved in ways I’d never imagined.

After making the decision to drop out of grad school to nanny full-time and write more often, not a single day had gone by in the past two months that I didn’t wonder if I’d made a horrible decision. I was giving up the safety of a great education and potentially a large-salaried job for what? An unexplored writing career? It felt crazy to think about, but I didn’t want to spend my time regretting not following my dreams. I wanted to spend my time bringing them to life.

I’d only started to make some additional book notes when I grew heavy with exhaustion. My pen fell from my hand, and my eyes drifted closed. Darkness settled over me while The 1975 lulled me into deep relaxation. The calm didn’t last long.

My entire body startled awake at the sound of rock music blaring right outside my door. What the hell? I jerked to a sitting position, my heart thundering in my chest while I looked around. My head was still thick with fog from my sleepy state. My muscles ached from the awkward position I’d drifted off in. After a few seconds, I realized the music was coming from the Hogues’ patio speakers.

How can that be? The Hogues were long gone, and no one else was supposed to be here.

I shook away the fog in my brain and eased myself into a sitting position as a giant splash came from the pool right outside my window.

What the hell?

My heart jolted into my throat, and I shot forward onto my feet and into action. I snatched my phone off the coffee table and pulled up my employer’s phone number. When I got to the front window that looked out at the pool, I slowly pulled down the wooden blind and peeked through it. All I could see was water splashing as a figure I couldn’t make out swam across it.

My hands shook as I pushed the button to call Simon Hogue.

It might have been my safest bet to call 911, but it wasn’t like someone was breaking into the pool house. They were just… swimming.

I released the blind and threw my back against the wall, rationalizing all the possibilities while the phone rang and rang. Perhaps Simon and Bridget had cut their vacation short. Maybe they’d given a neighbor permission to use the pool.

Neither of those options seemed likely. The Hogues would have informed me if they’d given someone permission to enter, and they certainly would have warned me that they were cutting their trip short.

I swallowed at the other possibility, the one I desperately didn’t want to believe. What if it was a complete stranger? Someone who had decided to take a late-night dip in a random pool, thinking that no one was home. The last thought brought a shiver up my spine.

When Simon’s phone sent me to voicemail, I let out a frustrated groan. What options did I have? I could confront whoever was out there or flicker the lights to let them know someone was here. No, I couldn’t do any of that. I would have to call 911. Before I could begin to dial the emergency number, my phone’s screen lit up in my hands, and it started to vibrate, alerting me of a call coming through.

Pulling in a deep breath, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to steady my nerves. I was being ridiculous. “Hey, Simon,” I rushed. “There’s—”

“Hiya, Chelsea,” Simon started before I could even finish my sentence, seemingly unfazed by my panic. “How are you getting on? Good, I hope.”

My eyes turned to the front window still masked by blinds. “Let’s just say I’m glad you called. I know it’s late where you are, but—” I swallowed, willing my nerves to