Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)

She rather liked this cat.

After fiddling for as long as possible, she put on her big-girl knickers and reached for the hand awaiting her. It was the third time she had ever touched Redford Morgan. She knew, because the first time—their first handshake—had sent a thousand tingling darts shooting up her right arm, darts that had dissolved into a strange, pleasurable sensation that was not unlike a muscle relaxant, and she had not approved. The second time, when they’d bumped into each other a few days ago, had only reinforced her decision to avoid all physical contact with the man.

Yet here she was, feeling his callused palm in hers, this time not for a handshake but a—she reluctantly admitted to herself—rescue. The usual darts of sensation returned. Red didn’t appear to be sending them on purpose, so she decided, for once, not to hold it against him. Sometimes, when she saw him roaming the halls or the courtyard with a heartrending smile for everyone but her, she wished she had nothing at all to hold against him.

Usually when she’d taken her strongest painkillers and was therefore high as a kite.

“Can I keep it?” she asked, to distract herself, more than anything else.

“Keep what?” he frowned as he helped her climb down. His grip on her was steely; his other hand cupped her elbow. He supported almost all of her weight and pulled her onto a lower branch.

“The cat,” she said, and concentrated on not falling tragically to her death.

“What are you asking me for? Put your feet here, look.”

She put her feet where she was told. They were now a meter closer to the ground. Red climbed down a little bit, then reached up to help her again.

“I’m asking you,” she said, as he maneuvered her like a particularly unwieldy doll, “because you are the superintendent, and pets are not allowed.”

“Oh, yeah. You can’t keep it then, can you? On your left, now,” he added. “Left, I said. Chloe, d’you know your left and right?”

“Be quiet,” she muttered, and finally put her feet in the right place. “Can’t you bend the rules due to extenuating circumstances?”

“Extenuating circumstances such as . . . the fact that you’re an extra special princess?”

“Precisely. I knew you’d understand.”

“How d’you know the cat doesn’t belong to someone?”

“No collar.”

“Still, it—good God, woman, what are you doing? This branch. This one.”

“Don’t get snippy,” she muttered.

“Are you trying to break your neck?”

“So dramatic. I’d break an arm at most. Of course, it has occurred to me that if I landed poorly, I could break my neck at any height. Especially since, as I’m holding a cat, I’d probably twist to avoid squashing the poor thing to death.” She paused, considered. “But that’s a worst-case scenario. I’m sure we don’t need to worry about it.”

Red halted his steady descent to stare at her. Then, from out of nowhere, he burst into laughter. It was a short, bright sound accompanied by a stunning smile, and she enjoyed it an unhealthy amount. She decided to ignore him and focus on studying the branches below. When she craned her neck a touch too vigorously, her body responded with a stab of pain through her shoulder blade. He, being a certified nuisance, noticed her slight wince and abruptly stopped laughing. Those sharp eyes excavated her expression. She’d seen him look at one of his paintings just like this, shortly before picking it up and throwing it against a wall.

He said, “Something’s wrong with you.”

She flinched. Her chest cracked wide open. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You sure you didn’t hurt yourself? Seems like you’re in pain.”

Oh. Of course. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, her tension easing away. “It’s nothing.”

After a slight pause, he continued their descent. “You know,” he said conversationally, “I think we’re about the same age. I, too, enjoyed the era of Xena: Warrior Princess and Captain Janeway.”

“How nice for you.”

“And just because I’m rescuing you—”

“Incorrect.”

“—like a proper knight in shining armor, don’t mean I think you’re all . . . you know. Damsel-in-distress-like.”

Chloe huffed out a breath, a cloud of air pluming from her nostrils. Definitely more dragon that damsel. “Point?”

“Point is, if you’ve hurt yourself, I’m not gonna be a prick about it.”

“Oh?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Yeah. Like I won’t insist you come back to mine so I can have a look at you.”

“Good.”

“But I will suggest that you let me see you home and get you settled. And make you a cuppa. To warm you up.” Before she could quite get her head around that, he said, “Here we are, then,” and jumped down. When his booted feet hit the ground, she realized they’d done it. They’d finished. Well, almost. She was crouched awkwardly on the last branch.

She wondered how badly the landing would hurt her already-screaming bones.

Red smiled up at her. It was the kind of sweet and effortlessly handsome smile that heartthrobs deployed in rom-coms, and she didn’t trust it an inch. “Want me to catch you?”

“I’d rather die.”

He shrugged, put his hands in his pockets, and started humming “Devil Woman.”

She clutched the cat against her chest and jumped. Coincidentally, landing felt a little bit like dying. Her body had become a giant bruise. She swallowed a thousand curses, breathed through the urge to vomit, and felt like the silliest woman on earth. Why in God’s name had she done this to herself? The cat licked the hollow of her throat, its sandpaper tongue warming her shriveled heart. Ah, yes. She’d done this because she was a pathetic ninny.

Red didn’t bother to hide his concern. “You okay?”

For once, the apartment building’s sweetheart was turning his nice-guy brand of nosiness her way. It might’ve been satisfying if she’d actually wanted his attention.

With great effort, she straightened up and attempted to smile. It felt more like a grimace. He winced at the sight as if horrified. She stopped. “I’m fine. Good-bye.”

With that 100 percent believable lie expertly deployed, she made her escape. It was slow and steady, with little dignity, great pain, and greater determination. Being rescued from trees was all well and good, but she didn’t need a rescue from herself.





Chapter Four




Red let Chloe limp off to her flat with a cat stuffed down her jacket. Then he found the motorbike he’d dumped shortly after spotting her, parked it, and settled in for a thrilling evening of minding his own damn business. He lasted about five minutes before grabbing his ring of master keys, turning up at her door, and knocking.

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