Capturing the Moment

Chapter 4

Ryan

There's a burglar in my yard.

That has to be it. A very pretty, very slow burglar. I'm mesmerized.

Weird stuff doesn't usually happen here, not like this. My neighborhood in the Boston suburbs is too nice for daytime crime, and there are plenty of witnesses. Everyone's outside today enjoying the perfect autumn weather. Everyone's watching.

But I think I'm about to get robbed anyway.

I guess there are worse things than being robbed by a beautiful woman. At least, I think there are. Though that probably depends on what she steals and how much of a mess she makes in the process.

Or if she's armed.

I give her a good once-over – for safety reasons, but I don't think there's any where she could hide a weapon. Her pants fit too well to hide anything, and even her blouse, a silky number that's at least five sizes too big, is halfway tucked in the front, revealing her weapon-free waist.

That would seem strange – halfway tucking in your shirt – if it didn't make her look so good. She's been casing this place for a while. A strange car parked outside all morning, but I barely noticed her. Now I'm noticing her too much.

Holding tight to my mug of coffee, I keep watch over my lawn as she continues her advance across the grass. Sneaking toward my door with careful steps.

Whatever she's up to, she's bad at it, and I kind of love how obvious she is while trying to blend in. It's made my morning bearable. A nice distraction from the human disaster asleep on my couch. My brother grumbles as he tosses and turns in his sleep, and I try to stay distracted, to not feel half as irritated as usual.

Given our history, it's a real struggle.

There's a soft knock on my door, like maybe a mouse has shown up to visit, and I open it instantly. Way more amused than I should be.

"Can I help you?"

Her sunglasses are back in place, as if she lowered them into position just for me, and they look expansive up close. So do her clothes. Far too expensive to be sneaking across anyone's lawn.

Is she wearing high heels?

I still can't shake the feeling from earlier, that I know her somehow. But once she's standing in front of me, I'm also certain I don't know her at all. If I had met a woman like this in real life, I would remember.

"I'm looking for Conner Chase," she whispers like a fugitive. "Is he here?"

And just like that, every good feeling in me turns sour. She's here for my brother. Now it makes sense.

Her outfit is still all wrong for sneaking around, but a pretty woman showing up to meet the famous Conner Chase? That's something my family got used to a long time ago.

I'mm not sure how she found him. Me and my brother are beyond estranged. He's basically just someone I used to know. At least, he's supposed to be.

That's why he showed up here when he got out of rehab. My house was the last place on Earth anyone would look for him.

But here she is.

An overdressed woman wearing sunglasses and heels.

I take a sip of coffee and stare her down. She doesn't flinch, but neither do I. "Conner who?"

"Chase?"

"Never heard of him."

I close the door nice and slow, letting it click shut in her face. Then I lock it, deadbolt and everything.