Page 10 of Desiring My Brother's Best Friend

I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. "Yeah. Sure."

He nods, squeezing my shoulder before he heads for the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I walk out onto the porch to watch him go, but as the truck disappears around the corner, I have the strangest sensation that someone is watching me. Crossing my arms over my chest, I look over and see a figure standing on the porch of the blue house three doors down.

It's Mr. Grayson … who just saw Owen leave, dammit. With a shiver running down my spine, I step back into the house and lock the door behind me. Wishing desperately that my sexy carpenter was still here, I check every door and window, making sure they're safely latched and locked.

I think Owen is right. There's something seriously off about that guy.

4

LENA

It's just past 11 PM when I hear something downstairs. This house is undeniably old, and it creaks and groans all the time, but this sound is different. It's too deliberate. Too calculated.

I slip out of bed and creep down the hall toward the staircase. My heart races as I peer around the corner, straining to see anything in the dark. There's nothing there.

But I'm sure I heard something. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, then I descend the stairs as quietly as possible. I listen for any hint of movement, but it's quiet. Too quiet.

I reach the bottom of the stairs and look around the foyer, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The front door is still locked. The windows are all shut tight. Nothing seems out of place. But I can't shake that something is wrong. With my hands shaking, I slowly pull the curtains aside from the big bay window in the living room … and see a figure rushing through the dark away from the house.

I feel like a bucket of cold water has been poured over my head. Panic settles in my chest as I run upstairs, quivering as I grab my phone and open the recent call list, planning on calling Jake, but for some reason, I call Owen instead.

He answers on the first ring. "Lena?"

"Owen, please," I say in a strained voice, "Please come back."

I can hear the urgency in his tone. "What's wrong?"

"Someone was here … looking in the windows of the house," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I think they're still here."

There's a long pause, then Owen's voice cuts through the silence, calm and reassuring. "I'll be right there, okay? Don't worry, Lena. Just stay put."

He hangs up, and I clutch the phone to my chest, feeling both terrified and relieved that Owen is on his way. Ten minutes later, I peek out the bedroom window and watch as a truck comes racing down the street and skids to a stop in front of the house.

Owen jumps out, looking around frantically for any signs of danger. He sees me at the window, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze even from a distance. He motions for me to stay put, and I nod, watching as he circles around the back of the house.

After a few minutes, he reappears, jogging up to the front door. I fling it open before he can knock, and he immediately pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

"I'm fine," I murmur, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I'm just … I'm so glad you're here."

He rubs my back soothingly, holding me close. Owen doesn't ask questions, and I don't offer any answers. We simply stand there in the foyer, holding each other. It feels good and right to be in his arms like this. To know that he's here for me, no matter what.

Eventually, Owen pulls away slightly, looking down at me with a concerned expression. "What happened, Lena?"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. "I heard something downstairs. When I checked the windows, I saw someone running away."

Owen frowns. "It was probably just some dumb kids messing around."

I shake my head. "No, it wasn't kids. It was..." My voice trails off, and I hesitate, not wanting to sound crazy. "I think it was my neighbor earlier, Mr. Grayson."

He blows out a long breath, but the tension in his muscles tells me he's beyond angry. "I'm going to go handle that motherfucker?—"

"Wait," I say, laying a hand on his chest. "We don't even know for sure that it was him. I mean, I think I'm right, but I don't want to risk us being wrong."

"I'm not going to leave you alone here with someone potentially stalking around your house, Lena."

"Then stay."

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