Fall in Love

by Anthology

  Or in this case, a driveway.

  “Bryan, this is my sister Kat.”

  I set down my duffel bag and extended a hand, quickly realizing she wasn’t a handshake kind of girl, so I wrapped her in a friendly hug. Nothing inappropriate, but damn did she feel good, even down to the metal of her necklace pendant that pressed into my chest. Warm and snug, she smelled like oranges and sunshine. I pulled back before my mind started drifting to tawdrier shores. “I feel like I know you already. Nate says you’re a huge movie fan,” I said, trying to keep the conversation on friendly topics. Topics that would remind me how I knew her – through her brother. “That when you’re not making necklaces you’re at the local theater. I’ve always said there’s nothing better than skipping class for a matinee.”

  She flashed a smile at me. “Matinee and popcorn. Doesn’t get any better than that.”

  “But what kind of popcorn?” I wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. “Regular? Buttered or kettle corn?”

  She rolled her eyes and parked her hands on her hips. “Is that some kind of trick question?”

  I arched an eyebrow. She was playful. Kill me now. My kryptonite was a woman who liked to banter. “Maybe it is.”

  “Obviously. The answer is kettle corn.”

  We were only discussing popcorn. I knew that. Still, I felt like Hugh Grant in Love, Actually when he meets the woman he falls for on his first day of work, and knows, just knows, that he’s a goner.

  I’d be fighting a losing battle resisting her. Just like he did.

  CHAPTER TWO

  She’s your best friend’s sister.

  She’s heading to college. You’re out of college.

  You’re starting a job in three weeks.

  But honestly, only one of those three reasons was truly compelling because the age difference between us was mostly insignificant. So she couldn’t drink? So what? She was out of high school and on her way to university. Even the job part wasn’t a real issue.

  But there’s just an unwritten code. You don’t mess with a friend’s sister unless you’re prepared to marry her.

  Right?

  Because if you break her heart, you’re the ass who broke your buddy’s sister’s heart.

  I tried to shake away the thought as we finished our pizza on the deck later that night, chatting about movies.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” she asked.

  “Office Space. Hands down. Best movie ever,” I said, smacking my palm on the table in emphasis. “I can watch that over and over.”

  “Yeah, we're going to need to talk about your TPS reports,” Kat said, quoting the boss character from the film.

  “That’s just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him,” I said, tossing her another line, and she laughed too, flashing me a smile that was damn near addictive. Her smile was like a gage on a thermometer; it made the heat rise in me.

  “Okay, those are good. And that movie is a classic. But best ever? For me, it’s a total toss-up between Raiders of the Lost Ark and Shakespeare in Love,” she said.

  I was about to ask why when Nate stood up. “I’ll get us more beer,” he said, then looked at Kat and wagged a finger. “But none for you.”

  She held up both hands and laughed. “I haven’t even touched the stuff. I’ll have a Diet Coke though.”

  “Keep it that way.”

  “I’m going to switch to water or something. Or if you have another Diet Coke that’d be fine,” I said.

  “Lightweight,” Nate muttered jokingly.

  “Copycat,” Kat added.

  “Fine, you caught me on both accounts,” I said, as crickets chirped and the warm night air surrounded us. Why did it have to be a perfect summer night? Everything was colluding to make me fall for her. Like a damn conspiracy.

  Once Nate was inside, I turned my focus back to Kat, trying my best to ignore how hot she looked with the moonlight playing on her face, from her pretty lips to the bare skin on her shoulders since she wore a tank top. Sister, I kept telling myself. She’s his sister. I decided to focus on my own sister to keep my mind clean. “My sister Jess is into movies too. She’s kind of a walking encyclopedia of Hollywood. She lives in L.A now so she can tell you pretty much anything about any celebrity.”

  “So she’s a star watcher,” Kat said, stretching her legs out on the lounge chair on the deck.

  Look away. Look in her eyes, not at her legs. “She totally has stars in her eyes.”

  “Is she an actress?”

  I shook my head. “No. She’s actually an amazing scientist.”

  “What is she? Like a researcher?”

  “She’s actually only fifteen,” I said, quickly explaining myself. “She just started high school. But she’s super focused, and good at school.” What the hell? I was sitting here babbling about my kid sister with the most beautiful girl I’d ever met? I wanted to kick myself in the forehead. “I think she already knows she wants to be a doctor.”

  “So you’re twenty-three and she’s fifteen,” Kat said, talking like a detective assembling clues.

  “Go ahead. Say it.”

  She laughed. “Okay, let’s just call a spade a space. She’s an oops baby right?”

  “She has to be, don’t you think?” I said as if it were the most scandalous thing in the world.

  “Eight years is a lot. Nate and I are only five years apart.”

  “Does that make you an oops baby?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it because I’m pretty sure my parents never had sex. Parents just shouldn’t do that. Have sex,” she said, slowing down to punctuate that word, and it was a straight shot to my bloodstream. The way she said it, that word traveled through me, and I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about parents doing it. Not in the least. I’d been trying to shift gears to safe subjects. But with one joke, and then one word, I was right back in her orbit. Hearing it on her pretty lips was yet another step in making me forget all the reasons why I should stay away from her.

  Then I reminded myself. There was not going to be any sex, not at all. There would absolutely positively not be any sex. I had control. I had restraint. I wasn’t going to jump Nate’s sister.

  But a kiss? My brain started whirring with possibility.

  After Nate returned, Kat yawned and passed on the Diet Coke. “I better go to sleep. Since I’ve got the Mystic Landing morning shift and all. You guys can stay out here and have your guy talk without me. No one needs the little sister around.”

  I was about to open my mouth to protest and say ‘I did, I definitely did,’ but she was already gone.

  * * *

  A little while later, Nate and I went back into the house.

  “I’m beat,” he said, running his hand through his dark hair, then retreated to his room. The sound of his door shutting echoed through the house, and the hall was strangely quiet for a few seconds as I headed to the guest bedroom, wondering if Kat was asleep. Look, I wasn’t thinking of slinking into her bedroom. It was the first night I was in her house. Even if it was the fiftieth night I wouldn’t do that. Sneaking into her bedroom would be the height of tacky.

  But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy when I bumped into her in the hall.

  She wore loose shorts and a gray tank top with a pink Hello Kitty across the chest, and I wasn’t checking out the illustration so much as I was lingering on what it covered up. More than I should. When I realized what I was doing – staring at her breasts, at their lush curves, and the barest bit of skin showing – I snapped my gaze up. Then I was looking right in those gorgeous brown eyes, so pure and such a rich shade.

  It was as if I had no choice in the matter. The wagons were circling me, and I was nearly toppled.

  She was breaking down all my defenses and she didn’t even know it. Everything about her was alluring, down to the fact that she wore a cartoon cat to bed. It was cute, it was retro, it was girly all at once. It also reminded me of my own favorite comic.
>
  “You like Hello Kitty?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said, as if she were thrown off by my question.

  “That’s really cute,” I said, trying to hold back a smile.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Definitely. Hello Kitty is totally adorable.”

  “Wow. Nate never told me his best friend was such a huge fan of cartoon cats,” she said playfully.

  “I’m personally a bigger fan of Bucky from the comic Get Fuzzy.”

  “I love that crazy Siamese,” she said, and I wanted to ask her out right then and there. She liked Office Space, she knew the characters in my favorite comic strip, and she was completely unaware of her effect on me.

  “I defy anyone who doesn’t find cats amusing to read that comic.”

  “That is an awesome challenge. Let’s make posters and start a campaign. I’ll even break out my Get Fuzzy T-shirt when we start planning a march to the capital,” she said, smiling brightly again, easily picking up the back and forth vibe of our late-night chatter in the hallway. Maybe that’s why I said the next thing. Because I wanted her to know. I wanted her to have an inkling that she was already working her way into my heart.

  “Generally speaking, I’m good with all cartoon cats,” I said, then paused, taking a beat. “Especially when cute girls wear them.”

  Her lips quirked up briefly, and before I did what I truly wanted to do – kiss her, ask her out, tell her that even though I’d only known her for twelve hours, was there a chance she was feeling some kind of spark too – I swiveled around and walked off.

  I wanted to do all of those things.

  So much. Too much.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kat

  I blow dried my hair the next morning.

  I rarely blow dried my hair in the summer.

  But I wanted to look good in case I ran into Bryan again in the hall. Or anywhere really. Evidently, I was going to have to make sure I looked good all the time since he was staying in my house for two weeks. But I was up to that challenge, because hello – hot and sweet guy staying in my house for two weeks.

  Lucky me.

  As I applied lip gloss, I asked myself once again how it was possible I’d never known that Nate had such a good-looking best friend? They’d been buddies all through college but it had never once occurred to me that the Bryan my brother had mentioned was gorgeous, with hair I wanted to run my fingers through, and eyes I could barely look away from – a forest green with gold flecks.

  The house was quiet when I left for the store, and I wondered momentarily if Bryan was still sleeping. Or if he was an early riser and was out for a morning jog. He looked the type. The guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, and his arms had the perfect amount of tone to them. Muscled and trim, and with that boyish smile, he was so easy on eyes.

  As I walked to the store, I realized his looks weren’t the only reason I wanted to make sure I had a good hair day. He was so easy to talk to, and we had an instant repartee from the second he’d hugged me in the driveway. I didn’t want to read too much into our connection since he was Nate’s friend, even though I couldn’t help but hope that he sensed a spark too when we’d been talking about movies out on the deck last night, or even when I bumped into him in the hall.

  I popped into my favorite cafe, picturing walking into this shop with him, ordering a coffee drink on a first date. Would be take me out for coffee if he asked me out? No, that was silly. He knew I was fond of movies, and he seemed like the type of guy who truly listened to a girl, the kind who would arrange a date to be exactly what she wanted. We’d go to the movies, and he’d hold my hand at some point as the storyline unfolded on screen.

  I smiled at that image. Then I promptly reprimanded myself for thinking of him that way. Even if we had an ease of conversation, even if he was handsome, even if we liked the same things, getting involved with him would be trouble for my heart. I was starting college in the fall, and he was starting the real world. There would simply be no us.

  Better to erase those ideas now.

  That was easier said than done though because my stomach flipped when I spotted him waiting outside Mystic Landing. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and the ends of his dark hair were still wet. Soon, I was near enough to breathe in that clean, freshly showered scent.

  “Hi there.”

  “I’m a morning person too,” he offered with a sheepish little shrug. “Hope you don’t mind if I share the morning shift with you. Nate’ll sleep past noon anyway.”

  “Not at all,” I said as I hunted for the keys in my purse, as if that action would mask the butterflies racing inside me from knowing I’d get to spend the next several hours with him.

  * * *

  Bryan

  I was slated for the afternoon shift with Nate, but hell if I was sticking to the schedule. I figured one of two things would happen the more time I spent with her. I’d learn she was annoying, a pain in the ass, or silly, and all of those would be great because I could get her out of my system.

  Case closed, problem solved.

  Or I’d discover the opposite. I’d learn that she was just as sweet and funny and smart as I’d already known her to be, and I’d fall harder.

  I’d be screwed.

  But for some reason, I didn’t stop. I walked right into the fire because I was dying to know all the things about her, down to what kind of coffee she drank. I gestured to her drink. “Must have just missed you at the cafe. Coffee, too?”

  “Caramel macchiato. Only frou-frou drinks for this girl.” Then, she inched closer, and she was so near to me I could smell her shampoo, some kind of tropical rainforest scent that made me want to thread my fingers in her hair, back her up against the wall, and kiss her. Right then, right there Forget everything else but the feel of her lips. She dropped her voice to a whisper, like we were co-conspirators. “I even got an extra shot of caramel.”

  She was playful and flirty, and I wasn’t going to miss the chance to keep up that kind of volley. I pretended the added caramel was the height of scandal. “So decadent.”

  “And you?”

  I tapped the lid on top of my cup. “Coffee. Just coffee, nothing more. I like my coffee the way —”

  She narrowed her eyes and waved off my remark. “I don’t want to hear one of those customary guy jokes. I like my coffee the way I like my women — hot, strong, with cream.”

  My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe she thought I’d say something so crass. All my crass thoughts were locked up safely in the far corner of my head. I’d be saving them for another time. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Oh. Sorry. How do you like your coffee then?” she asked as she unlocked the door to the store.

  Maybe it was because she wasn’t looking at me then. Or perhaps it was because I had a crazy hunch she liked romantic places too that made me answer her in a low whisper, “The way they drink it in Paris. Black.”

  She tensed briefly, or maybe she shivered. I wasn’t going to read anything into her reactions; all I knew was that I was damn glad I was a morning person, and was here with her.

  “It’s my dream to go there. I want to visit all the boutiques and shops and see all the gorgeous jewelry. I want to be inspired by the designs.”

  “There is little as inspiring as Paris,” I said, and I could picture being there with her, letting time slow down all around us. Just like I’d pictured having coffee with her at the cafe around the corner, now I was picturing kissing her in Paris, because she was the kind of girl who should be kissed by the river.

  “Have you been to Paris?” she asked, and her voice sounded wistful.

  “Only once. But I’m fluent enough from taking French in school, and the company I’m starting to work for has offices there, so I’m hoping go back,” I said as we walked into the store together, and she began straightening up the shelves, unlocking the register, and readying the store to open.

  “I want to work for your company. So I can go to Pari
s too,” she said with a wink. Her brown eyes sparkled, like we had another secret.

  “I’ll go ahead and book a flight. We’ll sneak away.”

  She stopped in her tracks behind the counter, then looked at me, her eyes meeting mine. Had I crossed the line? Shit. I thought I knew her, but the most I knew was how I felt when I was with her. I didn’t even know if she had a boyfriend, if I should be flirting with her like this.

  “Let’s do it. Let’s go to Paris. We won’t tell a soul,” she said in a whisper, her lips punctuating that last word with a beautiful O.

  “Wander around the city. No one will know where we are,” I said, and it was like a slow dance, and with each step we were somehow swaying closer to admitting what was happening.

  “Get lost in Montmartre on a cobblestoned, hilly street.”

  “Where someone is playing old jazzy music on a phonograph and it floats out the window.”

  “And then we’d –” she said, but I didn’t get to hear what we’d do next because our Paris reverie was broken by the sound of the bell jingling above the door. The first customers strolled in.

  Kat and I immediately segued out of our wanderlust and into business. We stayed like that all through the morning shift, and maybe it was because of our conversation, or maybe it was because we both knew there was this unmistakeable vibe in the air, but everything between us clicked.

  We were good together with customers. I talked to a pair of sisters visiting from Missouri who wanted a picture table book of the nautical old sea towns along the Connecticut coast. A little later, she chatted with an older couple who debated which serving plate to buy – the white one with yellow painted flowers, or the green one that was just the right size for asparagus, the woman said.