Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(14)

“Actually, I was going to bring up the time you made Frank Leonard from 4J cry.”

Chloe huffed out a breath. “I did not make him cry. He was already teary when the conversation began. It was all a misunderstanding, really.”

Red grunted skeptically.

“Honestly, I see no need to rehash the past when I am in a tree, selflessly saving a cat.”

“If you want to make this a competition,” he countered, “I’m in a tree saving a cat and a woman.”

“You are absolutely not saving me, thank you very much.”

“Oh? Shall I get down, then?”

“Fine. Throw a tantrum, if you must.”

“Throw a—?” Red’s incredulity was quickly cut off by a growl. “I’m not doing this with you.”

She blinked down at him. “Doing what?”

“Arguing. I don’t argue with people.”

“That sounds dull,” she murmured.

“You—just—hurry up before I lose my shit, would you?”

“You’ve not already lost it?”

“Swear to God, Chloe, you’ve got three seconds.” He waved the proffered hand around for emphasis. There was a smudge of magenta ink beneath his thumbnail.

Chloe sighed, then picked up the cat to see if it would permit such familiarity. It did. Reassured, she unzipped her jacket a bit, stuffed the cat inside, zipped it up again. A furry kitty head rested against the hollow of her throat, a warm body curling up against her chest. The sensation was so wonderful, for a moment she almost forgot the pain clawing at her senses.

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.”