The Best Friend's Sister

by Sophie Blue

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte

  Walking down the aisles of The Home Depot, Ollie following behind with a trolley, I let my inner designer come out to play. We decided on an ocean theme. Lots of blues and whites. Making it light and airy. I’m far too excited for this renovation project. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m looking forward to something. Not looking back at everything and overthinking. And it feels great.

  Moving down the paint aisle, I scan the tins to find the perfect colours to complement one another.

  “How about this one?” I ask, pointing to a tin of baby blue paint.

  “Sure, looks good,” Ollie says with a shrug as he grabs a few tins and loads them into the trolley. I turn to look at the darker shades, thinking about which colour will look good with the lighter shade and trying not to notice how his muscles bunch when he lifts the tins.

  “Ooo! This one will work nicely. What do you think?” I ask, pointing at the tin labelled Olympic blue.

  “Yeah. That’ll work.” He once again grabs a few tins and adds them to the trolley.

  “You’re very easy to please,” I joke, moving to the white paint section and helping him grab a few tins.

  “It’s just paint.” He chuckles as he steers the trolley round to the paintbrush aisle.

  “Rude. This is more than just paint. This is the tools of artists,” I say with a dramatic flair, shooting him a playful smile.

  Laughing, he says, “My apologies, Picasso. Please continue in your quest for the perfect tools for your craft.”

  “Thank you.” I offer him a dramatic bow and continue on my quest to find the perfect paintbrush, enjoying the sound of his rough chuckle behind me. This house is going to be picture perfect by the time I’m done with it.

  As we make our way to the tills to pay, we find ourselves walking through the kitchen aisle. Seeing the new kitchen displays has a lump forming in my throat. Carl and I had a new kitchen fitted earlier this year. Ours was dated and desperately needed updating, but he was reluctant. He said it was an expense we didn’t need so I offered to put it all on my credit card and he agreed, assuring me he’d help me pay it back in instalments. Looking back, it made sense that he had no intention of sticking around. Why pay for a kitchen in a house you weren’t intending on staying in?

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Ollie’s soft voice pulls me out of the memory and I startle when his hand rests on the small of my back, the touch heating my skin.

  “Sorry, I was miles away,” I joke, trying to block out the past and focus on the here and now.

  “Yeah, I saw. Wanna talk about it?” he asks, his kind eyes boring into mine as we join the queue to pay for our materials. His forehead is pulled down into a frown, and I find myself wanting to reach out and smooth it away. Wanting to reach out and touch him.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.” I offer him a tight smile and am thankful when he drops it. This is a fresh start, memories like that have no place here. I want to leave all my baggage behind and be my old self again. And the last thing I need is to throw myself into something new with my brother’s best friend.

  Chapter 6

  Ollie

  After a productive day moving the furniture out of the living room and foyer and repainting the rooms, we decide to order a pizza and call it a day. The place is already looking more modern. Gone is the dated wallpaper Gram put up all those years ago, and in its place is a light, open space. Credit where it’s due, Charlotte has a good eye for this stuff. I was worried I’d be sad to see the place change so much, with it being my last piece of my grandparents. But no one can take the memories of them from me, and they’re the most valuable thing I can have. A house without them isn’t a home.

  “Pepperoni ok?” I ask, as I bring up the local pizza delivery website on my phone to place our order.

  “Sounds good,” she calls over her shoulder. She’s currently boxing up utensils and pans from the kitchen so we can make a start on painting it tomorrow. Bent over by the counter, I try not to let my eyes linger on her arse clad in denim, but I am a man. How she fills them out should be a crime. I have to avert my gaze and remind myself that she’s my best friend’s sister once again. It doesn’t get much more off limits than that.

  “Sorted. Thirty minutes and it’s all ours,” I say, walking to the fridge to grab a cold beer. “Beer?”

  “Not for me, thanks. Just a water, if you don’t mind?” She tapes up the box she just filled and places it in the corner with the others.

  Grabbing a glass from one of the cupboards she’s yet to empty, I make her a cold glass of water and pass it over to where she’s standing.

  “Thanks.” She smiles before taking a sip, leaning against the counter and looking around the bare room.

  “We made better progress than I thought we would today,” I admit, taking a swig of my beer and enjoying the taste.

  “Yeah, it’s looking brighter already. I’m thinking kitchen and dining room tomorrow. Then we can tackle the upstairs at the weekend.” Her forehead crinkles as she thinks up her plan and I stifle the smile I can feel growing. She’s cute.

  “Sounds like a plan. Then once all the painting is done, we can think about furniture and ornaments and all that stuff.” I motion my hands around to the bare interior before taking another slug of beer.

  “All that stuff.” She laughs, shaking her head. The sound makes me smile, and I find myself wanting to make her laugh more often. “Spoken like a true designer.”

  Chuckling, I say, “Never claimed to be. You’re the buff, remember?”

  The conversation is easy and before I know it, the doorbell rings and the pizza is here. Charlotte grabs a couple of plates and we sit on the floor of the newly decorated living room. Since most of the furniture has been moved into the dining room while we were painting, we have to make do with conversation over dinner rather than TV.

  “So, what’s your story?” she asks, sitting back on her heels and looking over at me. Her bright blue eyes seem to look straight through to my soul. It’s both unnerving and refreshing.

  “Wow, cut right to the chase why don’t you?” I joke, grabbing a slice of pizza and taking a bite.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just curious as to why you’re renovating the house now. You said you needed the money. Did something happen?” Her question is hesitant, like she knows it is a sensitive subject and she knows what it feels like to not want to talk about something.

  Sighing, I finish my slice of pizza and take a long drink of my beer to ease the tightness forming in my throat.

  “Yeah. My ex happened,” I croak, shaking my head at the memories of that back-stabbing witch.

  “Shitty ex? Been there.” She laughs, but it’s half-hearted and doesn’t reach her eyes. Her gaze finds her hands and she links her fingers. I find myself wanting to fly halfway across the world to punch this douche in the face.

  “Turns out she was only after my money. Ran up credit card bills in my name and when the money dried up, so did her interest in me. I’m still beating myself up over the fact that I didn’t see what was happening.” I take another swig of my beer, trying to replace the bitter taste talking about Becky leaves in my mouth.

  “Wow. What a bitch,” Charlotte says, shaking her head, the disgust evident in her tone. Her brows pinch together as she scowls at the thought.

  I give a humourless laugh and rub a hand over my face, the tightness in my chest easing at her flippant comment. “Yeah, apparently so. When she realised I didn’t have any more money for her to spend, she found someone new and moved on.”

  “Good riddance to bad rubbish,” she says, lifting her water glass for me to toast.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” I admit, clinking my bottle to her glass and then taking a drink. It surprises me how easy it is to talk to Charlotte. It’s not forced, not uncomfortable, and neither of us feel the need to fill any of the silences.

  “I’m surprised her beady eyes didn’t light up at
this place. I’m sure you’d earn a pretty penny from selling it.” I watch her gaze flit around the room, smiling at her fast-formed love for the house.

  “I never told her about it. Looking back now, that probably should have been my first clue that the relationship wasn’t working. The fact that I didn’t want her to know about this place. I wasn’t looking to sell, and I guess subconsciously, I knew she’d push for it.” Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I kick myself now for not seeing what sort of person she was. But love truly does make you blind. I thought we were meant to be. I made excuses for her crappy behaviour. And look where that left me. Broke and broken.

  “So she never met your grandparents?” Charlotte asks, grabbing another slice of pizza and looking up at me in curiosity. The genuine interest in her eyes has me opening up more to her than I have to anyone in a long time.

  “No. We were only together for eighteen months and they passed before then.” My voice breaks slightly, the thought that they’ve gone still hurts even though it’s been a few years now.

  “I’m sorry.” I offer her a smile in thanks and help myself to the penultimate slice from the box.

  “What about you, what’s your story?” I ask, taking a bite out of my greasy goodness and eyeing her curiously. Other than what I remember from years ago, and what little her brother has told me, I know very little about this beautiful woman.

  I see the shutters come down immediately. Her entire body tenses and she pales. Whatever she’s running from, it’s hurting her. And she’s not ready to talk about it.

  “I, uh…” She avoids eye contact and I feel like a dick for bringing it up and making her uncomfortable. Way to ruin a good night, hotshot.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s talk through our plan for tomorrow,” I offer, trying to bring back the laid back atmosphere we’d created during dinner. She offers me a grateful smile and launches into her ideas for the kitchen.

  Whoever her ex was, he sure did one hell of a number on her.

  Chapter 7

  Charlotte

  After the best night’s sleep I can remember having in a long time, I roll over and grab my phone. Turning it on, I see a message from my brother and smile.

  Alex: How’s your holiday going?

  Me: Good. This place is gorgeous! The beach is literally at your front door and I’m in decorating heaven.

  Alex: You’re so lame.

  Me: Shut up.

  Alex: You doing ok? Ollie looking after you?

  Rolling my eyes, I dial his number and he answers straight away.

  “Hey, Lottie,” he says, slightly out of breath and I know I’ve caught him on his way out of the gym. Who goes to the gym on their lunch break? Weirdo.

  “You know I’m an adult, right? I can look after myself.”

  “I know. But it doesn’t mean other people can’t look out for you too,” he reasons and I shake my head at him. He’s always been like this. Mr. Protective. It’s sweet but since Carl, it’s gotten worse.

  “How’re Mum and Dad?” I ask, sitting up and stretching, wondering if Ollie is up yet.

  “Enjoying having their space back, I assume,” he teases and I laugh.

  “I’m a great housemate, thank you very much!” Walking over to my suitcase, which I haven’t bothered unpacking yet, I start to pull together an outfit for today.

  “Sure you are. But you’re cramping their style.” I freeze.

  “Never. Ever. Say that again. Gross.” I shudder at the thought and throw my chosen outfit onto the bed, checking my reflection in the dresser mirror.

  Alex’s bark of laughter has me pulling my phone away from my ear.

  “You’re too easy to rile. You’re good though, right?”

  “I am. I really am. Stop worrying. I need a caffeine fix so I’m going to go, but I’ll call you soon, ok?”

  “Ok. Love you, Lot.”

  “Love you too.”

  Once I’ve dressed and brushed my teeth, I make my way downstairs and find Ollie in the kitchen rummaging around in the fridge. With a pair of fitted pale blue jeans, my eyes are drawn to his pert bum. He definitely has grown up. But I need to stop perving over my housemate and focus on the job at hand. My heart was just broken in spectacular fashion, the last thing I need is another man messing with my head.

  “Morning!” I say, a lot chirpier than intended and internally chastising myself.

  Ollie turns to greet me, flashing me a smile. He’s wearing a short-sleeved checked shirt that makes me think of a cowboy. I bet he’d look good in a cowboy hat. Straddling…

  He pulls me from my ridiculous thoughts, my face no doubt flushed, when he speaks. “Morning. Sleep well?”

  “Like a baby, thanks. And the view from that bedroom is to die for! This B&B is going to be fully booked all the time.” I would gladly book a room for the year. The beach, the weather, the house. This place is amazing.

  “That’s the plan.” He chuckles, putting the milk carton on the counter and shutting the fridge door. “Coffee?”

  “God, yes, please.” Collapsing onto a stool in front of the island, I run a hand through my messy hair and take in the kitchen. I saw it last night, but now it’s revamp day, I pay more attention to the details. It’s a pale-yellow colour, dated but homey. The work surfaces are white granite and look good as new. The appliances all seem in relatively good condition too, which is good news, especially since Ollie mentioned the budget wasn’t great.

  The sound of a boiling kettle draws my attention. Looking back to Ollie, I see him adding instant coffee to a mug and waiting on the kettle to boil.

  “Seriously? I thought Americans were all about real coffee. Not instant crap. Have you not learnt anything while living over here?” I joke. I had thought it yesterday but didn’t want to make a bad second ‘first’ impression by mentioning it.

  Ollie chuckles, a deep sound that comes from his chest and makes me smile. Running a hand through his messy hair, my eyes follow the tensing of his muscles at the movement. His ink draws my attention once again, the black and white hourglass on his forearm intriguing me. I’ve never found tattoos overly sexy on a guy before, but on him, I’m mesmerized. I want to trace every inch of them.

  “I didn’t realise you were a coffee snob. What’s wrong with instant coffee?” he asks, turning to face me and leaning up against the kitchen counter with his arms folded over his chest. It takes every ounce of my self-control to keep my gaze on his and not let it drift down to his bulging biceps.

  “What’s right with it? How don’t you have a coffee machine? That needs adding to our list. A good B&B would definitely serve decent coffee.” I would walk out of a B&B if they didn’t serve decent coffee. It’s surely an arrestable offence.

  “You reckon?” He chuckles at me, clearly thinking I am ridiculous.

  “Ummm… yeah! B&B. It stands for bed and breakfast so you know those two things need to be on point. And coffee is a staple of a good breakfast,” I say, watching as he turns to add the water to my sorry excuse for a coffee and shakes his head with a smile.

  “Milk? Or does that offend you too?” he jokes, looking over his shoulder at me and I roll my eyes.

  “Yes to milk, thank you.” Once he’s made it, I take it from his outstretched hand, trying to ignore how my traitorous heart skips a beat when our fingers touch. Taking a sip, I hold back a grimace. Definitely not great coffee, but hey… first thing in the morning, I’ll take whatever caffeine fix I can get.

  “So other than a coffee machine, I’m thinking we need to replace the blinds, they’re super dated. And then we’ll need a new table and chairs, this one has seen better days.” He nods to the furniture in question.

  Looking over at the small kitchen table and four chairs, I frown. They look fine, a bit worn, but nothing a lick of paint won’t fix.

  “Why don’t we sand them down and paint them a pale blue? It’ll match the blue we’re using on the walls and save some money,” I offer, taking
another sip of my coffee.

  “Yeah, you think that’ll work?” he asks, leaning on the island and looking over at me.

  “Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with them. They just need a bit of TLC.” I have watched more DIY programmes than I care to admit. It’s a relatively easy fix to spruce them up, and a lot more cost efficient.

  “Ok, so more paint, some sandpaper, a coffee machine apparently.” He quirks his brow at me in amusement and I bite my lip to hold in my smile. “Blinds, new tableware, and that should do for now?”

  “Sounds good.” I take another drink from my mug and must pull a face as I swallow because he chuckles and shakes his head.

  “Tell you what, your royal highness. Why don’t we grab a coffee and some breakfast on our way to The Home Depot?” he asks, turning and grabbing his truck keys from the side.

  “Now you’re talking.” I smile and walk around the island to pour the remainder of the liquid atrocity down the sink. I reach for my bag from the table and follow him to the door.

  Chapter 8

  Ollie

  Holding the door for Charlotte, I motion for her to enter first and follow her in. Walking up to the counter, I take a minute to browse the new additions to the wall mounted menu before picking what I’ll order. I may not mind the instant stuff, but I can appreciate good coffee. Turning to Charlotte, I notice how uncomfortable she looks. She’s playing with the hem of her royal blue t-shirt and her eyes are darting around the shop. It’s a side I’ve not seen before, and I don’t like it.

  “Are you ok?” I ask, concerned she may not be feeling too good. She hasn’t eaten since last night, maybe she’s feeling light-headed.

  “Yeah. I’m… not too great with crowds,” she admits quietly, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here. This place is pretty popular, being so close to the beach, so it’s already filling up. A group of teenagers are laughing and taking selfies by the door, as an older couple sit nearby reading the morning paper.