I met Josh’s father first. He sat in the living room, watching the Cowboys versus Lions game like Josh had predicted. Michael was shorter than his son, but his chiseled face and sharp eyes made him appear taller than his five-foot-eight inches.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” I held his gaze, unflinching, when I shook his head.
Michael grunted a response.
Josh was a third-generation Chinese-American, which meant his father had been born in the U.S. Michael had been the model son, a straight-A student who’d attended top-tier schools and founded a successful company despite the fact his own parents never finished high school. Similar to my father, except mine had been born in Ukraine and immigrated to the U.S. in his teens.
My chest tightened. When Josh found out I had no family to celebrate Thanksgiving with other than my uncle, who couldn’t care less about the holiday, he’d invited me to celebrate with the Chens. I was both grateful and somewhat irritated. I hated being the object of anyone’s pity.
“Josh, have you—oh.” The female voice behind me halted.
I turned, my cool gaze assessing the petite brunette in front of me. She wasn’t actually that short—probably five foot five, but compared to my six-three, she was miniature-sized. With her rosebud lips and delicate face, she resembled a doll.
She beamed, and I fought a grimace. It wasn’t normal for smiles to be that bright.
“Hi! I’m Ava, Josh’s sister. You must be Alex.” She held out her hand.
I stared at it long enough that her smile faded, replaced with an uncomfortable expression, and Josh nudged me in the ribs.
“Dude,” he coughed out the side of his mouth.
I finally shook her hand. It was tiny and delicate, and I couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to crush it.
This girl and her sunshiney smile wouldn’t last a day in the real world, where monsters lurked around every corner and people hid their dark intentions behind masks. I was sure of it.
A scream yanked me out of my memories and into real life again, where the shadows grew long and the body next to mine writhed with distress.
“Stop!” Stark terror drenched Ava’s voice. “No! Help! ”
Five seconds later, I’d turned on the bedside lamp and was out of bed, gun in hand. I always kept a firearm by my side, and I’d installed a new, top-of-the-line security system right after I moved in. I didn’t know how an intruder got past all the defenses without triggering an alarm, but they picked the wrong house to break into.
When I looked around though, I didn’t see anyone else in the room.
“Please, stop!” Ava twisted on the bed, her face pale. Her eyes were wide open but unseeing. “He—” She choked like she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs.
Nightmare.
My shoulders relaxed before tensing again.
She wasn’t having a nightmare; she was having night terrors. Powerful ones, if her reaction was anything to go by.
Ava screamed again, and my heart tripped. I almost wished there were an intruder so I had something physical to fight.
I couldn’t wake or restrain her; that was the worst thing you could do when someone had night terrors. All I could do was wait for the episode to pass.
I left the bedside lamp on and kept an eye on her in case she hurt herself with all the thrashing. I hated feeling helpless, but I knew better than anyone that no one can fight our mental battles for us.
Half an hour later, Ava’s screams had quieted, but I continued my vigil. It wasn’t like I could sleep. My insomnia meant I only slept two or three hours a night, though I often crashed for naps in the middle of the day when I could.
I opened my laptop and was reviewing new business documents when my phone pinged.
Josh: Yo, I’m bored.
Guess I wasn’t the only person who couldn’t sleep tonight.
Me: What do you want me to do about it?
Josh: Entertain me.
Me: Fuck you. I’m not your circus monkey.
Josh: I woke up my roommate, I snorted so loud. You should def dress up as a circus monkey for Halloween.
Me: Only if you dress up as an ass. Sorry, I mean donkey.
Me: You’re already an ass.
Josh: What a comedian. Don’t quit your day job.
Josh: P.S. You think I won’t do it? I’ll do it just so I can blackmail you with the monkey pics.
Me: You don’t tell someone you want to blackmail them before getting the blackmail material, dumbass.
As Josh and I joked and gave each other shit, I glanced to my side, where Ava slept with her face buried in one of my pillows. A trickle of something that might’ve been guilt wormed its way into my stomach, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like we’d messed around.
Besides, sleeping in the same bed as my best friend’s sister wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever done…or would do.
Not by a long shot.
10
Ava
Something smelled delicious, like spice and heat. I wanted to wrap it around me like a blanket.
I snuggled closer to the source, enjoying the strong, solid warmth beneath my cheek. I didn’t want to wake up, but I’d promised Bridget I would volunteer at a local pet shelter with her this morning, before my afternoon shift at the gallery.
I allowed myself one more minute of coziness—had my bed always been this big and soft—before I opened my eyes and yawned.
Weird. My room looked different. No photograph prints papering the walls, no vase of sunflowers by the bed. And did my bed just move by itself?
My eyes latched onto the broad expanse of bare skin beneath me, and my stomach dropped. I looked up, up—straight into a pair of familiar green eyes. Eyes that stared back at me with no hint of the humor from last night.
He flicked his gaze down. I followed it…and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkov’s dick. Unintentionally, and he had on sweats, but still.
I. Was. Touching. Alex. Volkov’s. Dick.
And it was hard.
Mortification washed over me in a tidal wave. Move your hand. Move it now! My brain screamed, and I wanted to. I really did. But I stayed frozen, paralyzed by shock and humiliation and something else I would rather not name.
A brief image flashed through my mind of what Alex must be packing beneath his pants. I had a feeling—pun intended—it would rival that of any male porn star.
“Please remove your hand from my cock unless you plan on doing something with it,” Alex said coolly.
I finally yanked my hand away and scrambled back, my heart beating a wild rhythm in my chest as I tried to get my bearings.
“What happened? Why am I here? Did we—did you and I—” I gestured between us, sick with anticipation.
Oh, God, Josh would kill me, and I couldn’t even blame him.
I’d slept with my brother’s best friend.
Shit!
“Relax.” Alex rolled out of bed, lithe and graceful as a panther. Sunlight streamed through the windows and illuminated his sculpted frame, casting his perfectly carved chest and abs in a pale glow. “You fell asleep during that dog movie and it was raining, so I brought you up here. The end.”
“So we didn’t…”
“Fuck? No.”
“Oh, thank God.” I pressed a hand to my forehead, relief a cool balm to the heat on my cheeks. “That would’ve been awful.”
“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” Alex said dryly.
“You know what I mean. Josh would’ve murdered us, brought us back to clean up the mess, then murdered us again. Not that I want to sleep with you either way.” Liar, an annoying voice in my head whispered. I shoved it aside. “You’re not my type.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “No? Then who, pray tell, is your type?”
It was too early for this. “Um…” I scrambled to think of a safe answer. “Ian Somerhalder?”
He let out a derisive snort. “Better than the sparkly vampire,” he muttered. “Newsflash, Sunshine, you and Ian aren’t happening.”