Page 2 of Don’t Fall for your Best Friend's Brother

Scared out of my wits, I jump with fright while my heart pounds in my chest.

What on Earth?

Spinning to see who on Earth is making such an unholy racket, my mouth falls open, and I glare at a woman standing next to the breakfast bar in the kitchen. The lighting is poor, and I can’t see her properly, but I don’t need perfect vision to know that she’s clearly terrified. The clue is right in front of me, given that she’s just standing there, screaming at the top of her lungs, sounding somewhat like Janet Leigh from Psycho. To be fair, that’s likely a valid comparison.

I’m so stunned that I’m frozen to the spot for a second. In that same second, thoughts fly through my mind at the speed of light. Who is she? What is she doing in my parents’ kitchen? Why is she screaming?

I need to shut her up before she wakes the whole of Sharon Springs. This town is just not used to this kind of hysteria. Reaching a long arm toward the back door, I flick on the kitchen light. I then turn back to her, moving forward with my hands in front of me, trying to calm her. “You have to stop screaming,” I say.

I don’t think she can hear a word I’m saying over her own racket. Besides, she clearly sees my approach as threatening behavior and skirts around the island, still screaming.

“It’s okay. Please. Stop!” I bellow. I have no choice but to shout now. I’m just trying to make myself heard. If it turns into a competition, I’m certain which one of us will lose; I’d bet money on it. For such a small and slender woman, she has quite a set of lungs on her. The closer I approach, the further she steps back, to the point that it’s getting ridiculous. I know I look a little rough, but to be mistaken for a burglar is a bit much.

“Please, stop screaming,” I try again.

“Get out,” she shrieks. “Get out!”

I am now wondering if Mom and Dad might have taken in some stray who might not be all there upstairs. Or maybe she’s escaped, but I’m pretty sure there are no asylums in the near vicinity. At least she’s cute. Now that the light is on, I can see her clearly. She’s got the whole pixie look going on, with thick, short, choppy brown hair, like that girl out of Twilight, and wide, chocolate-brown eyes. Eyes that are currently looking at me like I might wrap my hands around her throat at any second.

While her yelling continues, I hear thundering footfalls coming down the stairs at great speed. A second later, Dad barges into the kitchen, wielding a metal baseball bat high above his shoulder, looking like he’s ready to strike me. His face is twisted, a combination of terror and rage. Due to the commotion this woman is making, he’s clearly prepared himself to rid his house of the intruder.

But his face suddenly falls when he sees me. A little like me just moments ago, he’s completely stunned at the scene he’s charged into. Looking at the woman, and then back at me, he eventually drops the bat. Mom and my sister, Sylvie, now rush through the door behind him.

“Finn?” Dad blurts.

“Oh, shoot,” Sylvie says.

The woman has fallen silent. I look at her, and she stares at me. She then stares at Dad, and then Sylvie, and then back at me again. It’s like a Mexican stand-off with no Mexican.

“Oh, God,” she says, in this delightfully proper British accent. Those chocolate-brown eyes are now wide with an obvious realization of what has just happened. “I am so very sorry.”

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