Mr. Imperfect

© 2013 Wicked Sassy

All rights reserved.

Original publication: February 2013

This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in reviews and articles.

Chapter 1

Mike’s sister was up to something. That was nothing new, really, but this time something was a little different—a little more elaborate. Elaborate enough that Mike’s mom was poking her nose in.

“Kris heading over,” his mom said when he picked up the phone. “She just passed on a girls’ night with Jessica to golf with Caleb.”

“The plot thickens,” Mike said, peeking out his window just in time to see his sister come into view. “I see her. Gotta go.”

“Golf, Mike. You know how she lectures your father on how many children could be fed each year on his golf fees.”

“Yes, Mom. I’ve caught that lecture more than once. Now if we don’t want Kris to catch me on the phone with you we need to hang up.”

“Just find out what you can.”

“On it.”

“I thought this was all about Luke at first, but he’s not here to catch any of this. It doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said, watching his sister move up to the porch.” Gotta go.”

“Love you, sweetie.”

“You, too.”

Hanging up, Mike quickly put on his work headphones and faced the wedding video on his computer screen. It was finished, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t convincingly move his mouse around. After all, his sister might be the one to come up with all the elaborate plots, but Mike always been the better actor. It seemed it was once again time to put his skills to use.

Chapter 2

Kris walked through the neighboring front door and was met with silence. It was always easy to tell when Luke wasn’t home. The guy always surrounded himself with noise—TV, radio, video games, whatever. As long as it caused percussion on the ear drums. Her brother, Mike, on the other hand, was all about silence. The only way to tell if he was home or not was to actually find him. Not that it was hard. Nine out of ten time he could be found in the exact same spot.

Moving through the entry, Kris turned left down the hall until she reached the half-closed door to Mike’s home office. When she pushed the door open there he was, sitting in front of his precious Mac with his noise-cancelling headphones on, eyes glued to the screen.

“Knock, knock,” she said, rapping her knuckle again the door frame of his home office. He didn’t look up. With those headphones of his meant to block out all things Luke, it could be the Fourth of July outside and Mike wouldn’t notice. Kris grabbed one of the mini foam balls that went with his toy basketball hoop and tossed it at his head. Direct hit.

Mike moved his headphones to drape around his neck. “I’ve got to start storing those balls farther from the door.”

Kris shrugged. “You take away the foam balls and I’ll just find something else to throw at your head.”

“Note taken,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “And what does the riffraff want today?”

“Golf clubs,” she said, grabbing another ball, and this time shooting at the hoop. “Caleb wants to take me to the range and impress me with how far he can hit little balls.”

Kris watched her