When I heard tapping at the door around three in the afternoon I was surprised. I had been going through a particularly hard and stressful day, forgetting completely about Bob’s son in the process. I was still sitting in my office with nothing but bottoms on, so I had to run to the bedroom to throw a t-shirt on before going to the door.
I rushed to the door and opened it, stopping dead in my tracks as I did. Someone had the wrong house. A young, very muscular man stood on my porch. He had on nothing but a thin white t shirt, the sleeves of which hugged his rather large biceps. He had short, dark brown hair but icy blue eyes and had a healthy amount of facial hair that screamed, ‘I’m in college.’
“Can I help you?”
He held out his hand. “Hi Mrs. Duval, I’m Phil. Your husband called to hav
