Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(15)

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.

If she didn’t answer, he’d assume she’d fainted or some shit and let himself in.

He was only checking on her because she was a tenant. Making sure she hadn’t hurt herself was his job. The fact that she’d climbed up a tree to save a cat, and bantered with him in a weird, stuck-up, posh-girl kind of way, meant absolutely nothing. She was an unrepentant snob who’d possibly spied on him last night. He didn’t give a fuck about her sarcastic sense of humor, or the cute little cardigans she wore, or her fantastic bloody face. But on a regular human-concerned-about-another-human level, he really wished she’d answer the door.

He knocked one more time, raked a hand through his hair, and started worrying. When she’d left, her mouth had been tight, her skin gray beneath a sheen of sweat. Her words had grown rushed, strained, even sharper than usual. She’d moved stiffly, her body hunched with something more than cold. It was obvious she had some tree-related injury and didn’t want to admit it, but Red was not above bullying it out of her. He had plenty of practice bullying his mother, after all.

He was reaching for his key when the door finally opened a crack. A large, dark eye peered suspiciously out at him.

Red arched an eyebrow. “Where are your glasses?”

“You’re a very nosy man,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Word on the street is, you’ve got a cat in there.”

She looked him right in the eye and said, “Mr. Morgan. Would I ever?”

His lips twitched into a smile he didn’t want to give. “I think I’ll check, if you don’t mind.”

“I mind awfully.”

“Still, though.”

With a sigh gustier than a hurricane, she let him in.

Chloe was one of those women who always looked tidy. Even up a tree, she’d been in color-coordinated walking gear that could only be called appropriate. So the state of her home made him stop in his tracks.

She didn’t appear to notice. She was too busy shuffling down the hall, dodging empty bottles of water lined up like bowling skittles and what seemed to be countless Amazon Prime delivery boxes. He picked his way through the chaos and followed her into an equally disordered living room, where fancy furniture was covered with pillows, books, empty mugs, and video-game cases that said PS4 on the front.