Page 5 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

Think, Alexia. You remember how, don't you?

I give my brain another two or three seconds.

Nothing.

I cannot believe I got caught in my brother's kitchen in nothing but a towel and a ripe banana, by two of the last three men I ever wanted to see again.

I decide a third head-bang is warranted after all. I'm winding up when three sharp raps hit the door. My heart stops; I jump forward, and the towel hits the floor.

I'm staring down at it in horrified betrayal when the knock comes again.

Followed by, "Alexia?"

Zachary. Of course it's him and not... not the other one. Typical.

I look down at my naked body and wonder if, in six years, there's any way Zachary's developed X-ray vision.

Well, if he has, he'd have seen through the towel in the kitchen, my brain points out.

Not helping.

"Alexia?" Low. Rough. "You okay in there?"

Shit.

I bend, yank the towel up, back away from the door.

"Er, yeah, I'm fine! Just... getting..." Getting what? Un-nudified? Less tits-in-the-wind? "Er... dressed." That works. Then, for no explicable reason: "I'm still naked!"

A distant throat-clear.

"Okay. Sorry if we scared you." A pause. "We got a call at the airport, there’s a problem with our new bar. Had to come back, Leon went on without us. Guessing he didn't get the chance to tell you before he took off."

"Er, no," I say, as pleasantly as gritted teeth allow, glaring skyward towards my beloved brother's plane seat. "He did not."

Another, longer pause.

"We're only dropping by to grab something quickly before going to the bar. I'm throwing together some sandwiches, join us in the kitchen if you're hungry."

I've never been less hungry in my life. "Er, th-thanks. I'll be out in a minute."

As a researcher, I've learned to be careful with the concept of absolute certainty. So let me say, with the most absolutest of certainties: I will most definitely not be out in a minute.

I wait for his footsteps to retreat and let myself enjoy the relief.

Then I drop the towel, on purpose, this time, and dig through my suitcase for the first thing I can grab: pink jogging shorts and a black knit turtleneck. Whatever. It'll do.

Dragging on the shorts, I take a moment to observe my first foray into going commando, then wrestle the turtleneck over the towel still on my head. Feet into the ballet flats I kicked off last night, towel ripped free, hair tumbling in a mass of tangles, I look frantically around for anything worth shoving into the suitcase.

Because I am not staying.

Cannot be here.

Not with him. Not with the other one. Not for another second.

Through the window, I can see the tops of a few bushes.

Thank god for Leon and his hatred of heights, he'd have insisted on a ground-floor bedroom no matter what. I drag the suitcase to the window, shove Leon's desk aside, wrestle the window and screen open, and with strength I don't normally have, push the suitcase out. A leafy thud. I don't stop to look.