In Pursuit Read Online Free

care of me.” Like you? That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement for what sounds like her older brother. Odd, considering Claire only had positive things to say about him – including an open invitation to his private deck.
    Pounding footsteps stomp toward the kitchen and I keep my eyes trained on the batter I’m stirring.
    “Who the FUCK are you?” His voice roars behind me and I jump around like a scared rabbit. It’s the glorious specimen from the photo in the hallway. But the real life image easily surpasses the picture, despite his scowl. He’s angry, his dark gray eyes crackle with fury.
    The first word I think to describe him, after intense, is tall. If I felt small next to Claire, I’m your average insect next to this guy, who towers above me behind the other side of the kitchen counter. His once long dark blond hair is buzzed super short. Underneath his gray t-shirt are muscles so chiseled, he looks like he is a real life sculpture from Ancient Greece. Minus the small penis, because if his overall size is any indicator, then this guy is huge. Everywhere.
    The thought shocks me. Sex, at a time like this?
    He has a strong jawline and high cheekbones. I could not have designed a better looking man if I was granted access to the DNA. As pissed as he looks, this Harry is sizzling hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with that kind of muscle definition up close. Normally I’m shy, but now I feel downright jittery.
    “Oh, um, hi. I’m -”
    I feel the weight in my hand redistribute and look down to see batter sliding off the spoon I’m holding on my new dress. Great.
    “Don’t scare the little mouse, Harry.” Claire appears at his side, smiling coyly. Her tone drips with insincerity.
    Little mouse?
    “Eddie. My new roommate.” Her gray eyes show disdain.
    I'm not sure if her emotions are targeted at me or her older brother, so I keep quiet.
    “Sarah Mendel sent her my way, and she is just about the sweetest little mouse I’ve ever met.”
    There’s that pet name again. It’s hard to say which way the connotation swings – positive or negative. By the smug expression on her face, I struggle to think Claire’s not beingcondescending to me.
    The grim, Thor-with-a-buzz-cut lookalike doesn’t respond, just passes stern glares between Claire and me. Tension vibrates between the three of us, a gnawing glacier of anxiety growing inside nearly makes me shudder.
    Claire interrupts the hostile temperament. “What are ya cooking?” She taps her brother patronizingly on the shoulder, and moves around the granite counter to join me.
    Harry – he definitely doesn’t look like a Harry – makes a sound that is reminiscent of a growl, and he stomps out of the apartment without a backward glance. The door slams so hard, I wonder if it has fallen off its hinges. I stare at Claire with a wide-open mouth and then she giggles.
    “Harry ̶ that’s Harris to you, only I’m allowed to call him Harry ̶ has a huge stick up his ass. Sorry you had to witness that. Unfortunately it happens somewhat regularly. Brothers and sisters, right?”
    “I, I wouldn’t know,” I stammer. “Only child and all.”
    She sticks a finger in my batter and then pulls it out, sucking on it playfully. “It’s mine and Harris’ normal behavior, so get used to it. Yummy! What are we eating?”
    There isn’t enough time for me to analyze her comment, but her words don’t pacify my edginess.
    “Blueberry oatmeal pancakes and turkey bacon. I was going for the healthy type of thing.” My words fall flat, my earlier good mood disappearing.
    My heart has taken on a frantic beat at the argument I just witnessed. To hide my reaction, I turn away from Claire to take a few calming breaths. She doesn’t appear to be studying me, so I busy myself with reading the recipe on my phone, even though I’ve made these at least ten times, so I don’t need the help.
    Angry people make me feel overwhelmed. My dad spent all of his time