She unlocked the door and dragged her carryon through the doorway, kicking the wood closed with her foot.
“Kris? Are you home??”
The only light on was the one above the stove, and that usually meant that no one was in the house. But after the concussion, it wasn’t strange to have soft lighting on to make sure that he could find his way everywhere. Also, it was an off day, and he knew she was coming home…
“Where is that man,” she mumbled to herself as she set the mail on the counter and threw her keys on top of the small pile of envelopes. She was just about to turn around when she felt, more than saw, someone enter the kitchen behind her. Before she could find something to protect herself, two hands settled on her hips, and spun her around.