Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(18)

“I’ll see if one of my sisters has time for an emergency kitty litter run.”

Red sighed, resigned to the pitfalls of his own nature. “I’ll do it.”

She gave him one of her usual looks, all irritated and snooty. He was trying not to bristle when she followed up with actual words, words he really hadn’t expected. “You’re so lovely,” she scowled. “I don’t think I can stand it.”

He blinked, an unsettling warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Which meant—bugger this skin of his—that he must be flushing like a teenager. He looked away and shoved his fingers through his hair. His voice was gruff when he said, “It’s nothing.”

There was a pause before she laughed, the sound low and disbelieving. “Oh, my goodness. You blush.”

“Nope.” He knew full well his face was bright red, but he lied anyway.

“You do. This is hilarious. I should compliment you more often.”

“Please,” he said wryly, “don’t.” Clearly, he couldn’t take it.

“Fine. I promise to be consistently awful.” She smiled, really smiled. It was bright and lopsided and absolutely stunning. It only lasted for a second, but he saw the impression of it behind his eyelids the way he might see a firework that had gone out. Then she frowned and raised her fingers to her lips, as if she was confused by her own moment of happiness. Which, aside from anything else, was pretty fucking depressing. She looked at him, her eyes narrow and considering, like he was some kind of lab rat. “Alive,” she murmured under her breath. “Hm.”

His eyebrows rose. “Pardon?”

She cocked her head. “I think … I do believe I have a proposition for you.”

There was nothing seductive in her tone, but the words sent a twisted kick of something through his chest. He’d watched too many rubbish spy films where propositions always ended in blow jobs. “What’s up?”

“It’s rather a long story.” She bit her lip. “Actually, never mind the story; you don’t need to hear it. The short version is that I need to ride a motorbike.”

He’d have been less surprised if she’d gone with the blow job thing. Chloe Brown. Motorbike. Didn’t really compute. He wracked his brain for a passable response and finally came up with “Okay?”

She nodded. “And you, obviously, have a motorbike.”

“… Yeah, I do.”

“Would you like a free consultation? For your website?”

“… I might.”

“Then it’s settled.” She closed her eyes again. “I’ll give you one, and you’ll take me for a ride. Do you mind if we handle the details another time? As it turns out, I am rather tired.”

He opened his mouth to say something like “Now wait a fucking minute,” but all that came out was “Uh.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

That’s what she said. I’ll be in touch. Like she’d just interviewed him for the position of motorbike chauffeur and would let him know how he’d done in due time. Christ, she was so far up her own arse, it was a miracle she could see the sun.

“Good-bye,” she added.

He was stuck between telling her to piss off, remembering that she was a tenant, and wanting to die of laughter.

Then she cracked open one eyelid and said suspiciously, “You’re not one of those men, are you? Because you’d be surprised by how loud I can scream. Years of vocal training.”

Red stood. “Nope. No. Don’t worry. Going.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He went.

Ten minutes later, he was in his own living-room-slash-studio, watching Chloe “rest her eyes” through the window. She looked pretty fucking asleep to him, but that was none of his business. He just wanted to check that the cat hadn’t curled up on her face and suffocated her or something. Cats couldn’t be trusted, as Vikram was telling him through the phone.

“Nasty little buggers. They piss behind sofas, you know.”

Red ran a hand through his hair and turned away from the window. “If you say so. Look, it’s just until we find the owners. Woman from 1D grabbed the thing out of a tree, so she’s not about to chuck it over to the RSPCA.”

“Hm, 1D,” Vik mused. Red shouldn’t have mentioned specifics. Vik was too clever for his own good and had a fantastic memory. “Ain’t that the one you’re always moaning about?”

Red glared at thin air. “Always?”

“Always.”

“Nope.”

“Alisha!” Vik bellowed. “Red’s on about the rich bird from 1D again.”

In the distance, he heard Vik’s wife holler back, “Oh, he isn’t. Tell him to bloody shut up about her.”

“See?”

“Fuck off.”

Vik sighed dramatically. “There’s no shame in having a type, mate. The posh ones never did it for me, but—”

“Vik.”

“—your tastes leave a lot to be desired.”

“Vik.”

“One month, and the cat’s got to go,” Vikram said, smoothly changing the subject. Thank Christ. “And don’t let it out of the flat. If anyone sees it, there’ll be hell on earth.”