by Hazel Kelly
My body, which had become a vessel of adrenaline and fear, went straight to checking the perimeter not like a sleepy-head in his boxers but like a killing machine, ready to bash the next noise that freaked me out into a pulp.
The chorus of dogs barking in the distance didn’t make me feel any better about things, but by the time I realized the upstairs and ground level were secure, I was feeling much better. In fact, I was halfway to convincing myself the noise had come from someone else’s house when I heard a voice. It was muffled and faint, so I couldn’t make out the words. All I knew was that it was under me.
I exhaled sharply and tightened my grip on the bat as I headed for the basement door, my racing mind a montage of potential horrors. I cracked it slightly and stared into the darkness below, holding still. Holding my breath. And then I heard it again. A faint cuss. Except that voice…
For fear of losing my nerve, I didn’t waste another second. Instead, I flicked the light on and went running down the stairs, shouting as loud as I could as if I’d heard there was nothing burglars feared more than extras from Braveheart.
Before I reached the basement, my cries were met with the shrillest scream of all time, and it was only when I reached the bottom of the stairs that I felt safe enough to stop yelling. Because, as it turned out, the burglar causing all the ruckus appeared to be a young woman. Or rather, the bottom half of a young woman.
It took me a second to come to grips with the bare ass hanging in the high mounted window, since it was so far from the masked man my imagination had prepared for. Or maybe it was several seconds. It was hard to tell. Time moves strange in the middle of the night when you think you’re going to war and you get mooned instead.
“Brie?” I asked, thinking I recognized those short legs from somewhere. But the scream kept coming and the legs kept kicking, and whoever it was started trying in vain to pull herself back into the window well. “Stop screaming!” I shouted, dropping the bat at my feet.
I ran over to capture the unlikely intruder, ducking left and right to avoid getting a sandaled foot to the jaw before throwing my arms around the hanging legs. “Shut up!” I cried, my face cheek pressed against her left butt cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you!” I dragged the spasming body back into the house, slipping on the handle of a screwdriver and crashing to the ground.
My hostage managed to scramble away from me then and scuttled away on all fours. I sat up off the cold basement floor and turned to meet her wild eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Brie shouted as she jumped up and smoothed her dress down, her face redder than I’d ever seen it.
“I was going to ask you the same question,” I said, rising to my feet carefully so I wouldn’t step on any of the nails or screws around me.
“I live here!” she screamed, still trying to draw blood from my ears.
“I want to believe that, but I just caught you coming in through the window.”
“Damn it,” she said, stomping one of her feet. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Likewise,” I said, stepping over to slide the window closed. When I turned around, I could see exactly why the noise had been so loud. Two large toolboxes had fallen from a high shelf, each filled with so much junk that the basement floor looked as cluttered as the page of an I Spy book. No way I was cleaning this shit up.
Brie slumped onto the basement stairs and put her head in her hands, her slight shoulders rising and falling like she was still catching her breath.
“You okay?” I asked as I walked over to her.
“No,” she said, not appreciating my concern. “My fucking life flashed before my eyes.”
I laughed.
She didn’t.
“Why didn’t you use the trellis?”
She looked up. “What?”
“Outside my bedroom window.”
She blinked.
“Did I never mention that I reinforced it?”
“No,” she said, her heart-shaped lips pinching. “You didn’t.”
“That’s how I used to sneak in,” I said with a shrug. “And there are no toolboxes on the other side.”
“Are you done?”
I went to hook a thumb in my pocket and remembered I was only wearing boxers so I took a step back. “Where were you?”
She groaned as she stood and stomped up the stairs without answering, pausing with her foot in the air when the doorbell rang. A hard triple-knock followed.
“Probably the cops,” I said, amused that her reaction to having been so frightened was to be so supremely pissed off.
She flicked the light off on me when I was only halfway up the stairs, and a smile slipped out one side of my mouth as I climbed the rest of the way and headed for the front door.
“Evening, officer,” she said, beating me to it.
“Let me guess,” I said, the cool night air giving my half-naked body a chill. “Noise complaint?”
Officer Friendly turned his mustache my way.
“It’s my fault,” I said. “Knocked down a toolbox in the basement.”
“This is your place?” he asked suspiciously. Not that I blamed him. I’d be surprised to meet someone my age who could afford a home in this neighborhood, too.
I forced a smile. Turns out modeling my skivvies for the cops wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be. “It’s my dad’s place. I’m housesitting while he’s in Florida with his wife.” I could practically hear Brie fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “James Mason,” I said, extending my hand.
He looked at it and made a point to ignore it.
Officer Rude it is then, I thought, folding my arms.
“Keep it down, James.” Then he nodded once at Brie and took two steps back before turning towards his squad car, which would no doubt take him on another gripping adventure. Probably to a nearby burger place where, if he was really lucky, he might both get a snack and an opportunity to bust some teenagers for underage drinking.
Brie scoffed after I closed the door.
“What?”
She shook her head and dragged to the bottom of the stairs. “You’re a real piece of work.”
So are you, I wanted to say, my mind flashing back to the way her ass looked mounted on the wall. Instead, I bit my tongue.
“Pretty cold the way he didn’t shake your hand,” she said, pausing halfway up the stairs to taunt me.
“I like to think he shook it with his eyes.”
She laughed.
“And even if he didn’t, at least he didn’t moon me.”
Her smile fell away. “I’m really sorry about that.”
I let her apology hang in the air just to torture her. Should I say I forgive her? Say I already forgot all about it? Surely that’s what she wanted to hear. Except I hadn’t forgotten. And I wasn’t sorry it happened either.
“James.”
I raised my brows.
“Are you deliberately trying to torture me?
I cocked my head. “It is sort of my brotherly duty.”
“Kiss my ass,” she mumbled, continuing up the stairs.
“Maybe next time!” I called, waiting for the predictable slam of her bedroom door.
And just like that, we were housemates again.
F O U R
- Brie -
They were blissful, those first moments I had upon waking. Until the night before came rushing back to me…
Losing my keys. Dangling my ass in the window. Trying to pretend I wasn’t completely uncomfortable with James’s casual nakedness in front of local law enforcement. What a nightmare.
I let my eyes drift towards my nightstand without lifting my head from the pillow. It was almost nine. Not bad for a girl who was usually up with the sun. I wasn’t a morning person or anything. I just wrote better when it was quiet.
That’s why I was so excited when my mom and Bill told me I’d have the house to myself for a few months. It was exactly the lucky break I needed to get my manuscript (and my MFA program) finished. Not th
at I told them that. Wouldn’t want them to misconstrue my ecstasy for rudeness.
It was hard to hide my glee, though. The morning Bill packed his jeep, I could barely hold still much less sit down. It was the closest thing I’d felt to Christmas morning joy as an adult.
Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t terrible people or anything. Just crazy. And while I certainly had my own brand of crazy, I was proud to say I wasn’t an alcoholic like my mother or a gambling addict like Bill, nor did I need the help of an imaginary friend in order to stay on the rails.
That said, if the God they talked to was the reason my mom was still sober and Bill hadn’t sold the house from under us, then I wish I had the guy’s address because he deserved at least an annual Christmas card from me.
My point is, they were a distraction. Frankly, anyone is a distraction when you’re trying to write book. Anything even. The bird on the windowsill. The wind in the trees. The tick of the kitchen clock. The hum of the air conditioner. Social fucking media.
Those were the things I thought I’d have to contend with for the next few months. But James Mason made all those things look as inconsequential as junk mail. If anything, I wish he’d arrived before I’d enjoyed two weeks of idyllic bliss. Then again, timing never was his strong suit. Which reminded me, I must ask him exactly what he’s doing here and how long he planned to do it.
I perked up my ears and squinted, but the house was silent. I smiled. At least he hadn’t started snoring since the last time he slept under this roof. Maybe I’d be able to get some work done today after all.
I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and bopped my Harry Potter alarm clock on the head, hoping he’d come up with a spell that might drive my unreasonably attractive and annoying stepbrother from the house. Unfortunately, he thought Expecto Patronum would be sufficient. It wasn’t the pleasant surprise I was hoping for, but the text I got from Crystal, which said, “I got your keys, dumbass,” certainly lifted my spirits.
Until I heard the clattering of metal downstairs.
It wasn’t a mysterious noise. It was one I recognized instantly as the sound the pans make when you try to pull the bottom skillet out from under the saucepans, and everything comes tumbling out of the cupboard onto the kitchen’s hardwood floor. It was also the kind of noise that would’ve woken me up if I hadn’t already been awake.
I rolled my neck, peeled myself out of bed, and slid my fuzzy socks into my slippers. Then I headed downstairs to make sure the house wasn’t burning down, though I was comforted by the lack of smoke in the air. “You trying to get me back for last night with that racket?” I started to ask before I rounded the corner. What the—?
James glanced over at me from where he was reloading the low cupboard in nothing but gym shorts and white socks.
I swallowed when I saw the row of deep notches in his chiseled side. “What’s going on?” My eyes strayed over to the stove, where a sizzling pan was releasing a steady coil of steam.
“What does it look like?” he asked, forcing the cupboard shut before rising to his feet. “I’m making breakfast.” Four slices of toast popped up behind him as if on cue, and for a split second, his eyes fell to the bottom edge of my oversized T-shirt where my little terry cloth shorts were poking out.
“Oh,” I said, crossing my arms. “Kind of sounded like you were making a mess.” His hair was damp with sweat like he’d been working out. “Where’d you get the bread?”
“Bennison’s,” he said, gesturing towards the high stools on the opposite side of the light granite butcher block. “You’re welcome.”
I approached the counter when he turned around, my breath shallowing while I watched the muscles in his toned back flex as he turned the fluffy eggs with a spatula and seasoned them. “I didn’t know you could cook?”
“It’s eggs, Brie.”
“Still.”
“I figured after the night you had, it wouldn’t be right to let you eat eggs on crackers.”
“Don’t bash it till you’ve tried it,” I mumbled, glancing at the sweaty shirt on the barstool beside me.
James slid a small plate piled high with fluffy eggs across the counter.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, pressing my palms together and squeezing them between my knees.
He put the perfectly tanned toast on a plate and set it within my reach. “I always make eggs when I’m an unwelcome houseguest.”
“You’re not unwelcome,” I said, feeling bad I didn’t sound more convincing.
He glanced at me out of the corner of his blue-green eyes like I wasn’t fooling anyone.
I forced a smile and considered getting up to grab the butter and a fork, but I didn’t want to get too close to him when he was coated in dried sweat. Plus, if I stepped around the counter, I’d be able to see his abs all the way down to where his shorts pulled across his hips, and it was hard enough to remember that he was my stepbrother as it was. Not to mention the fact that I was determined to play it cool after last night’s tragic mooning. “I didn’t mean to make you feel unwelcome,” I said, his silence eating me alive. “I was just frustrated about my keys, and then the one that’s usually under the flowerpot wasn’t there.”
“My bad,” he said, setting his own egg-covered plate on the counter across from me. “Forgot to put that back.”
I sighed and watched him shovel eggs into his mouth for a minute.
“Oh shit. Here,” he said, reaching over to set his fork on my plate before going to get another one.
“Will you grab a knife, too?” I asked, staring at the fork with his cooties on it.
He returned with the cutlery, grabbed the butter dish on the way, and got stuck back into his breakfast like it hadn’t even occurred to him that I might not want to swap spit.
So I bit my tongue and didn’t make a big deal about it.
After all, sure as hell beat eggs on crackers.
F I V E
- James -
I was trying to decide between the Moroccan chicken wrap and the spicy buffalo burger when Quinn pulled out the metal patio chair across from me.
“Hey,” I said, noticing he was alone. “Where’s Maddy?”
“She can’t make it.” He sat down and leaned back in his chair in head-to-toe Nike flyknit like he was one of the athletes he represented. “She’s working on her editorial calendar for next month.”
My eyes widened. “You could at least pretend to know less about fashion blogging.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “You should see the pictures I took of her by the lake this morning. I think I’m really getting the hang of this Insta-hubby thing.”
I shook my head. “Unbelievable.”
He laughed and grabbed a skinny menu from the middle of the table.
I wanted to be happy for him. I did. It was just hard because his happiness seemed to be inextricably tied to sleeping with my little sister and encouraging her to take increasingly daring bikini shots on the bow of his dad’s speedboat. “Ever tried the Moroccan wrap?” I asked, dropping my eyes again.
“Nope,” he said, scanning the menu lazily. “I go buffalo burger every time. Sauce makes it. Can’t stray, won’t stray.”
“Gotcha.”
“So how was your first night in the country pile?” he asked, glancing at the other diners who were mostly well-groomed Northshore moms who looked far too slight to push their Hummer-sized strollers.
“This isn’t a rural area, Quinn.”
He scoffed. “Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you over all the birdsong.”
I rolled my eyes.
“So what’d you get up to after I dropped you off? A nostalgic wank in your childhood bedroom?”
I scowled. “I’m not sure what the fuck a nostalgic wank is but—”
“You know, when you jerk off to something that used to excite you.”
Brie’s ass dangling in the window popped in my head, and the color drained from my cheeks before I could get the image of hers t
o disappear.
“You alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, clearing a scratch from my throat. “Fine.” Just remembered I need to rinse my hippocampus out with bleach.
He raised his dark brows.
“Anyway, to answer your question, no. I’m more into aspirational wanks.” It was a throwaway comment, one designed to get him off my case, but the truth was, I didn’t come out here to relax and get comfortable. If anything, the less time I had to stay at my dad’s, the better. Accepting favors from him never made me feel anything but disloyal to my mom and sisters.
Quinn’s lips curled to one side. “As long as you relished the alone time.”
“Funny you mention that.”
“You miss the love nest already, don’t you? I thought that might happen. That’s why I only brought half the stuff you asked me to bring today.”
My eyes narrowed.
“So you don’t feel like it’s too late to keep playing Three’s Company with me and Maddy if you change your mind about moving out.”
“You didn’t bring my stuff?”
The briefest flash of remorse flickered across his face. “Okay, so I was running late.”
“Let me guess? Because you lost track of time taking pictures of Maddy?”
A devilish smile spread across his face like molasses. “Yeah. That’s what happened.”
I groaned. “Forget I said anything.” Just as well Maddy wasn’t there. One smug lunchmate was more than enough. “I’ll get the rest of my stuff on poker night.”
“Doubtful.”
I turned an ear towards him.
“How will you get it home after I take all your money?” He stared me down like I was actually susceptible to his pathetic attempts at intimidation.
“Let’s deal with that if it happens,” I said, confident in my ability to make him eat his words.
“Fair enough,” he said, tearing his eyes from mine to locate a server.
A teenager, who was probably a student at the local high school if I had to guess by the color of her blue and green braces, appeared beside our patio table with a wide grin. “What can I get you gentlemen?” Her confidence was adorably rehearsed, and she did a textbook job of taking our order, apart from the fact that her face got redder every time she made eye contact with either of us. By the time she was done, her freckles had all but disappeared.
