GrahamHer small house sat at the end of a winding street near the wine bar in an up-and-coming neighborhood south of the lake. I checked my watch to make sure I was neither late, nor too early.
Satisfied with my promptness, I climbed out of my SUV and made my way to Alexa’s door, which was painted a vibrant, sapphire blue. The color reminded me of her perky little sports car.
Next to the bell, I saw a small handwritten note.
Bell broken. Use the knocker.
So, I tapped the brass door fixture three times and waited. A clack of high-heeled shoes on tile came closer before the door peeled open.
Alexa had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail over her head. Rough tendrils fell beside her face, framing her high cheekbones and catlike brown eyes. Her makeup was soft, except for a deep red lip
