My Best Friend's Brother (A Bashir Family Romance Book 1) (7 page)

“
You’re going to
England
for Christmas?”

I took a long drink of tea and then set it down on the dining room table, trying to mask my envy. Mrs. Bashir has just told us that one of her cousins in London was getting married over the holidays, and the whole family would be going to the wedding.

Everyone but me, that is.

“Why can’t Scarlett come with us?” pleaded Annika. It was an awkward moment. I knew why I couldn’t go. I was an outsider and it would be inappropriate to bring me to such important religious ceremonies.

“I have so much work to do…for midterms. I couldn’t go even if I wanted. Besides, I really want to see my dad this Christmas.” I smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Bashir who seemed grateful to have my cooperation. They hated giving into Annika’s demands, but probably did it too often for her own good.

“You are welcome to stay here, Scarlett, as long as you like, and your father is welcome too,” offered Mr. Bashir, gracious as always.

Annika gave it one last shot.

“I have an idea! She could come but just stay at the hotel when we go to the wedding.”

“Annika, don’t Muslim weddings last…for
several
days?” I pointed out with an amused grin.

She sighed in defeat. “It’s just…it will be so boring there without you.”

“Yeah, but being holed up in a hotel while you’re having fun doesn’t sound great either.”

Then it dawned on me that Dev might be going too. He hadn’t mentioned anything to me last night on the phone. I looked at Mrs. Bashir and tried to act casual lest she figure out her eldest son had become the object of my affection. I needed to tread carefully.

“I suppose Dev will meet you there?”

“Yes, and Shyra will be coming with him,” she answered, trying to contain her excitement.

“Mom, you have to stop pushing them together!” interjected Annika.

I felt myself reeling from the news.
He won’t be here. He’ll be with her. In London.

“They’ve been dating, Annika. I’m sure we’ll have news of another wedding soon,” Mrs. Bashir said enthusiastically before taking a sip of tea through her wide grin.

Mr. Bashir joined in her jubilation. “They’re perfect for each other! Maybe he’ll propose at the wedding. Wouldn’t that be nice, huh, Scarlett?”

I offered him a weak smile. I could feel my heart sink, and I wondered if I had been delusional this whole time.

I thought he liked me. I thought there was something between us.

It was obvious that I was wrong.

Why does fate enjoy adding salt to my wounds so often?

My dad called me later that evening and announced he would be going to Denver…with his
girlfriend
for Christmas.

“I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend, dad. Thanks for the update.” I said bitterly. Didn’t anyone want to be with me at Christmas?

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you until I knew it was serious. Renee can’t wait to meet you.”

Her name was Renee. I hated that name.

My dad actually sounded happy. I felt a tear break free and travel down my cheek, but it wasn’t because I was happy for him. I hastily wiped it away. I wouldn’t cry over this, even though no one could see me.

“And you both can’t come here, dad?” I sniffed loudly. Too loudly.

“Honey, you alright? You’re not…crying or nothing?”

“Just allergies, dad.”

“I don’t miss the cedar out there, that’s for sure. Anyway, I’m going to meet Renee’s parents in Colorado.” He paused. “Hey, why don’t you come out with us?”

It was the last place I wanted to be. In a stranger’s house…an outsider…not belonging. I had enough of that in my life.

“Thanks dad, but the Bashirs invited me to stay here.”

I didn’t mention they would be on a different continent. What would be the point?

Then my dad started to cough.

“Dad, that’s a bad cough. Are you okay?”

He had always had a cough—thanks to the damn cigarettes—but it had never sounded so deep and rumbling, like his lungs were full of gravel.

He finally found his voice. “Fine, Scarlett. Just a touch of bronchitis. Doc has me on antibiotics.”

“Make sure this
Renee
looks after you. Maybe you shouldn’t go to Denver. You’ll heal faster if you’re resting at home.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

She better take care of him. He’s all I have left.

After I hung up with him, my cell phone rang.

It was Dev.

I hit “ignore” and then took a long shower trying to wash his memory out of me. I allowed the tears to flow. Mingled with the hot water, I could pretend I wasn’t crying my heart out. When they stopped, I stepped out of the shower somewhat renewed. As I dried my long hair, I mentally planned out my solitary Christmas with Jane Austen books, lots of trashy reality TV and plenty of chocolate cake.

Yes, there would be a massive amount of chocolate cake.

I resolved to not communicate with Dev any more after that day. What would be the point? I was clearly falling for him and it was made apparent to me that I would only get my heart broken. He had never mentioned going to London for Christmas…or mentioned that he was dating Shyra. He was obviously keeping secrets from me.

Maybe he was just playing with my head.

Perhaps his kindness was just a cover for more clever and sadistic version of himself.

The night before the Bashirs left, we all sat down to dinner to an amazing butter balti chicken. While I was savoring bites of the insanely delicious curry, Mr. Bashir went over a list of things I needed to remember: security codes, how to turn off the water if a pipe breaks, and where the fuse box was located. Then Mrs. Bashir added something that made me a little nervous.

“The security man at the front gate told me the Miller house down the street was broken into last night. Make sure you lock the doors and set the alarms, Scarlett.”

I assured them all I would lock everything up tightly, but I had never spent the night alone in a house before, and I wished she hadn’t told me about the break-in. I knew I would be a basket of nerves lying in my bed and jumping every time I heard a noise.

In the morning, after they had left for their trip, I found an old wooden baseball bat in the garage, and I placed it against the wall next to my bed. If anyone broke in, I would try and make them regret it.

On Christmas Eve I didn’t feel like cooking for only one person, so I curled up on the sofa with my bag of trusty salted almonds and slowly crunched them one-by-one while reading
Pride and Prejudice
for the third time. Just when I got to my favorite chapter—when Mr. Darcy finally declares his love for Elizabeth—the power went out.

Like a scene from a horror movie, I was alone in a big house and in total darkness.

The wind lashed against the windows outside in what was to be the biggest ice storm of the last ten years. I tried the breakers just in case, but I knew there was a power line down somewhere, and I wouldn’t be watching all the fantastic TV I had planned for later on.

I lit some candles and then sulked for a moment.

Could it get any worse? Could this be the saddest Christmas of my life? Even when my mother had left us, Dad still found the heart to string up lights and put out a plate of cookies for Santa. Now that he had a girlfriend and a new family to celebrate with, was it my destiny to be alone like this?

With nothing left to do, I blew out all but one candle and decided to go to bed. I checked the locks and the alarm—but it wasn’t working.

No power, no alarm.
Crap.

Upstairs, I double checked to make sure the baseball bat was within arm’s reach. Amazingly, with the covers over my head so I wouldn’t focus on the creepy shadows in the room, I finally fell asleep.

Suddenly I was wide awake.

Something had jarred me out of my sleep. Maybe it was the wind, which still howled outside. Or maybe it was the cold. The heat was off and it had to be 20 degrees outside. I slipped out of bed, grabbed Dev’s sweater from my closet, pulled in on over my short nightgown, my long legs, still bare. I was searching for sweatpants when I heard a bang downstairs.

I froze.

I told myself it was probably nothing. But maybe I should take a peek or there was definitely no chance of falling asleep again.

I grabbed the baseball bat and tiptoed down the steps, trying to control my breathing. When I got to the bottom, I peered around the corner into the foyer.

My heart stopped.

A tall, shadowing figure was inside the house and messing with the security alarm, a pocket flashlight in one hand.

He’s turning it off so that when the power comes on, it can’t be tripped and alert the police.

In that moment, I finally understood the meaning the phrase, kill or be killed. My hand tightened around the bat and I stepped quietly toward his exposed back. When I was just behind him, I closed my eyes and cocked the bat behind me. I was going to hit him with everything I had.

I swung.

The crunch of the bat on his side was sickening. The intruder turned around quickly, and I prepared for another attack, the bat poised dangerously over my head.

Then I smelled his cologne.

It was Dev.

“Dev?”

“Scarlett…” He crouched before me, arms placed protectively around his face.

I dropped the bat in horror.

“Oh no…I’m so sorry…did I hurt you?”

I prayed he hadn’t broken a rib.

He slid down to the floor and…
laughed
. Then he grabbed for his flashlight and shined it over my half-naked, shivering body. I tugged the sweater down to cover my thighs.

“Is that my old Little League bat?” He asked.

“Maybe,” I said, guilty. “Please tell me you’re not hurt. I hit you really hard.”

I kneeled down by his side and tried to see where I inflicted my injury. He had his hand over his left ribcage.

“If that was the best you got, Scarlett, then you might not want to quit your day-job.” He smiled at me through the shadowy darkness. “I’m fine, really. It will probably bruise a bit, but that’s all.”

“What are you doing here?”

I wondered, was the whole family back? Did the wedding get called off? Was Shyra with him? Was he engaged to her? Could he tell how happy I was seeing him?

“I needed to check on some things at the hotel…and I didn’t like the idea that you were here alone,” he answered. “You would have known that if you answered my phone calls. Or checked my emails.”

“Oh,” was all I could mutter in reply.

“And I had something to give you. For Christmas.”

I wasn’t sure what to think, so I said nothing.

He got up from the floor and offered me his hand, which was warm and delicious against my frigid skin.

“Scarlett, you’re freezing.”

“The power is out so I guess the heat is off too,” I explained, matter of factly.

He led me into the family room by the light of his flashlight. He shined it over the fireplace. With a flip of a switch, the gas fireplace illuminated the room.

Gas, why didn’t I think of that?

We could see each other much better now. His eyes moved over my body, his old sweater just covering my hips. I could feel the cashmere fall over my curves…and I was aware that the soft material didn’t hide what the cold air did to my breasts, or more specifically, my nipples. No doubt he could see that too.

He picked up a throw blanket from the couch and draped it around me, his warm breath on my hair. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me—and for a moment, I thought he would—but he moved away.

“You should sleep down here, where it’s warm,” he suggested, before moving toward the foyer.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to sleep in my room over the garage. It’s late. My earlier flight was cancelled due to the ice storm…I’m sorry I scared you like this. I didn’t mean to.”

“But it’s so cold, Dev. There’s plenty of space here…you can have the other couch.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I would feel better if you were in the house. I don’t like being here alone. Especially after realizing I can’t swing a bat very hard.”

I was being honest. I didn’t think I could sleep alone in that house again after such a scare.

He smiled. “As you wish.”

Dev took off his black, down filled jacket and sat down next to me on the couch. The heat from the fire started to do its job and I was feeling much better. He inspected his ribs where I wacked him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I moved over to him. “Here, let me see.”

I tugged at his black sweater politely, awkwardly. He saved me the trouble and pulled it off entirely exposing his chest…his beautiful chest. He was lean and muscular, with just a moderate trace of dark hair which trailed off below his bellybutton. The light from the fire danced over the hills and valleys of his well-crafted pecs and solid six-pack. I remembered with amusement what his chest used to like as a gangly 13-year-old at the pool.
How times change.
I lightly touched the reddened area over the left side of his ribcage.

“Does that hurt?” I looked up at him. He covered my hand with his and moved it up his chest to his heart.

“No, it feels amazing.”

That feeling in my stomach again.

He let my hand go abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett. We should…go to sleep. It’s after two.”

What could I say to him? That I wanted him to do more—much more? I could feel the sparks between us: enticing and dangerous. We had hardly said two words to each other in person while growing up, and now…
and now things were so different
. I moved to the other side of the large sofa and pulled the blanket over me. He put his sweater back on and moved to the other couch.

Now that I was warm and secure, I felt myself drifting off into a restful slumber.

“Dev…” I whispered, half asleep.

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” His voice started to fade. Before succumbing to sleep, he spoke again.

“Scarlett?”

“Yes?”

“My sweater looks nice on you.”

I smiled to myself. I wouldn’t be alone this Christmas. I decided I would worry about Shyra tomorrow. Tonight Dev was with me.