I groaned. I was going to have to jack open a window. I stomped up to the closest window and tried to wrench the old wooden frame up as hard as I could. It didn’t budge. Cocksucker…obviously the humidity had affected more than just the doors. I systematically tried each window in the kitchen, none of them shifting in their ancient frames. Irritation was building, and I tried to tamp it down. None of the dining room windows opened either. This was getting ridiculous. There was one more I could try, and then I’d have to break a window. When I approached the large bay window overlooking the porch, I didn’t even bother trying to open it–the frames were painted shut. I could chisel it open…if I had my chisel. Which I didn’t. Because why would I have any of the tools I needed?

Annoyed now, I stormed back through the kitchen, ignoring all the details I had been so captivated by when I first saw them. I snagged the decorative tea towel hanging off the stove, and wrapped it around my fist. It was the first time I had been locked in a house instead of out of it, but I figured the tricks would be the same. I needed to decide which window would be the cheapest to replace. The bay window in the dining room would probably be the easiest to crawl out of, but expensive. Unless I could manage to smash one of the small panels to the side. It would be a tight fit, but big enough for my ass to crawl through, and the sides didn’t have any stained glass.

I tightened the tea towel around my knuckles, winding my arm back. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath in, and swung forward.

My hand didn’t move. I opened my eyes, a scream inching its way up my throat when I saw fingers wrapped around my fist. From a hand that didn’t belong to me, attached to a tanned arm, connected to a lean body. A man–an incredibly good-looking man–held me back from smashing my window of choice.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

2. Felix

My only source of entertainment was watching realtors use the house as bait. It was a tactic to sell whatever house they actually wanted to lure their clients into buying. I knew what a realtor was thanks to Theo, and I knew what they were doing thanks to my own powers of deduction. Because you see, after years of having nothing else to do, people were incredibly easy to pick apart.

They always arrived early in the morning–obviously the first visit of the day. The realtor never even bothered to walk up the steps. And the same people never came twice. These were the rules of the house buyers.

I liked rules.