EMILY

George called an hour later to let me know the police were on their way. I had already checked out the security camera in the front of the house.

Nothing.

I had a giant Yucca tree and several other very tall cacti blocking the view of the street so I couldn’t see anything at all.

I walked around the house checking locks on the windows and double-checking any possible way someone could get inside. I was probably overreacting but everything was making me nervous. I couldn’t think of anyone who would do this to me.

Even the jerks I used to date wouldn’t have cared enough to find the energy to harass me. They were no more attached to me than I was to them.

First the beer bottles and now a rock. I was lucky it didn’t go through a window. That would have really made me mad, besides scaring the living daylights out of me. This was bad enough. I was starting to wonder if whoever left me the rose was a part of this, too. Nothing like wrecking my little fantasy.

I decided to walk out front and wait for George’s friend. I made sure the sliding door was locked and I grabbed my keys to let myself back in. You never knew who was lurking around, hiding behind things that you didn’t even notice.

I could see George working on something in his garage, and as I walked across the street, a police cruiser pulled into his driveway. I never had many dealings with the police before. I always thought of them like the old TV show, Mayberry R.F.D., and Barney, that really goofy cop, the one who always screwed everything up. My grandmother loved that show.

The man stepping out of the cruiser was no goofy cop. Holy Moses, arrest me now, he was pure eye candy to look at. Cropped blond hair and nicely tanned, Ray-Ban Aviators hiding his eyes, he looked like he worked out several times a day—he was so built. And that gun holster getup and all the toys on his belt were so damn sexy I almost couldn’t breathe. My jaw dropped somewhere around my knees. He caught me staring at him with slack jaw and grinned. Busted! Trying to regain some composure, I stepped forward and extended my hand.

“Hi, I’m George’s neighbor, Emily Golden, and the recipient of the flying rock.”

He took my hand in his and more squeezed it than shook it.

“Hi. Tom Campbell, Chandler Police department. Is this the first time anything like this has happened to you?” he asked, all business.

“Well, someone left some empty beer bottles, one at a time, a few weeks back. They were on my front step. Early in the day one of the bottles had fallen and was broken on the sidewalk so I cleaned it up, not really giving it a lot of thought, and then later when a girlfriend came over, there was another one left there. I thought it was kids or something.”

He just looked at me.

“I didn’t leave them out there,” I explained, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I don’t even drink beer and when I have friends over, we drink wine. I don’t even buy beer.”

I wasn’t sure why I was becoming so defensive, but he was just staring at me.

George jumped in. “Emily is really quiet, Tom. I’ve lived by her going on six years now. There has never been anything disorderly going on around here before. She’s a good girl.”

I coughed to suppress the laugh threatening to bubble up. I mean—I was a nice person and all. No loud parties or fighting. I was friendly with the neighbors. I led a quiet life, but good girl? That might be a bit of a stretch.

Officer Campbell looked me over again, glanced at George, then back at me again, appraising me.

“Okay, did you make anyone mad lately? Or dump some guy with an attitude problem? Anything?” he asked.

Is it a cop thing to ask if I dumped someone? George asked the same thing, as if I asked for this or something.

Keeping my attitude in check along with my temper, I answered. “No, I can’t think of anyone who would do something like this.”

“It might just be kids, although there has not been any other reports of pranks like this in the area. You have security cameras facing both the front and back of your property, and an alarm system if someone tries to get in, right?” he asked.

“Yes, but it doesn’t cover the street with the plants in the way by the driveway. I have security on all the doors and windows in the house, too. I don’t usually turn the system on when I’m home, but I think I will now. This is making me a bit edgy,” I told him.

“That’s a good idea. You have the security system installed, you should be using it. I’ll write up a report so we have it on file. I’ll also let the department know so they send patrols around more often. We can keep an eye out for anything going on. By the way, do you have a gun?”

I was a bit taken aback by his question.

“No … should I have one?”

I’d never thought about buying a gun. In fact, I’d never even held one, much less fired one. I wasn’t sure I could.

“No, I’m not telling you to get one. And if you don’t know how to use one, definitely not. Do not get a gun unless you go through gun safety. I made my ex-wife go through the classes when she decided she needed one.”

He paused, then went on. “If you decide to get one, let me know. I can recommend several classes for you, and George can help you too. He was damn good with firearms in his day.”

George lifted his head a notch and expanded his chest.

“I still am,” he bragged.

“I don’t really want a gun. They scare me. I’m afraid I would shoot a friend by accident or someone would turn it on me. And there might be the tiny, little temptation to shoot an old boyfriend if they come around and harass me,” I joked.

“I DID NOT HEAR THAT!” Tom Campbell’s voice was loud and stern.

OKAY! I hit a nerve and concluded no shooting ex-boyfriend jokes with a serious cop. Crap, no points for me. But I remembered the ex-wife comment. File that one away for a rainy day, or one of my friends.

Tom talked a bit of shop talk with George before he headed out. He shook my hand, gave me his card, and assured me that they would be keeping an eye on the neighborhood. He made me nervous, not because I was afraid but because he was so great to look at. Yummy.

George told me to put his number on my speed dial in case I heard anything or got scared. Claimed his cell was always with him, habit of a former detective. I told him I would do it right away and headed back inside.

This was way too much drama on a weekend to deal with. After locking the front door behind me and adjusting George’s number to speed dial status, I grabbed my iPad and curled up on the couch.

I was thinking maybe a dog would not only be good company, but also a little extra security. A part of me had wanted a dog for years now, but with the lifestyle I used to lead, constantly on the go and rarely home, I never felt it would be fair to own a pet.

Now it was different. I wasn’t out there chasing the demons, hitting the bars, and running from myself so much. I was content to spend more of my time at home, at least when someone wasn’t trying to scare me. A dog could be the perfect roommate, company, protection … and the great part? They wouldn’t be borrowing my clothes.

I started searching the local rescue sites for a new roommate. An affectionate, playful companion I could curl up with or take on my morning run. And a watchdog that would make someone think twice before bothering me. That’s what I wanted.