Gripped: A Stepbrother Romance (Bonus Story: Stepbrother Forbidden) (2 page)

“When did you get in?” asked Dad as we loitered in the empty waiting room. The scent of coffee spread throughout the room, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Two hours ago,” said Reid. “I came straight here. Didn’t even get time to book a hotel.”

“You don’t need to,” said Dad. “Plenty of room available back at the house.”

I looked between Dad and Reid.
Say no
, I pleaded in my head. I didn’t want Reid staying with us. In the short time since his arrival, feelings for him I thought dead and buried had resurfaced. Imagine the torment I’d endure if he was living with us again.

Reid glanced at me before forcing a smile at Dad. “Thanks for the offer, Harry, but I’ll pass.”

Even though he said what I wanted him to say, I felt a tiny bit of hurt. Why did he look at me before rejecting Dad’s offer? Then I remembered our relationship during the seven years we lived under the same roof. I remembered his impatience and annoyance with me. Our constant bickering borne from his dislike for me, and my frustration that he would never, could never feel the same way about me as I did about him.

Dad shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Reid. If you’re going to stay here for some time, a hotel would become costly.”

“Cost is not a problem.”

Dad moved closer to Reid, settling a hand on his shoulder. “Please, Reid, come stay with us.”

“Dad, don’t force him—” I began nervously, but I broke off at the vulnerable look on his face. Dad needed this. With Vera’s looming death and my impending wedding, he needed to have Reid in the house so that he could have a semblance of a family again. Reid must have seen the look on Dad’s face because he reached up to pat his hand.

“OK. I’ll stay at the house.”

CHAPTER THREE

Reid

For most of my childhood, I believed my mother invincible. And she was, to an extent. Tough. She did what she needed to do to maintain a sense of family and put food on the table when my deadbeat father wouldn’t step up to the plate.

Once, when I was about nine or ten, he tried to hit her. He liked to beat on her as all asshole deadbeats liked to do to their wives. He was drunker than usual that night. Burst into the house after one of his all-nighters, stinking real strong of booze and piss. She told him to get the fuck out of the house and clean himself up before embarrassing himself in front of his kid.

He got angry, shouted at her that she couldn’t tell him what to do in his own goddamn house. And as a matter fact, how she was a miserable cunt who had ruined his life the day he had married her fucking ass. He’d only gotten hitched because she was pregnant with a kid which he never believed was his, anyway.

Same old, same old. He had shouted those things at her before. But that night was different. That night, the more he went on, the angrier he got. Then he charged and made a swing at her.

She ducked out of the way—it’s pretty easy to dodge a drunk—and he crashed into his trophy case. Shards of glass and his various awards from his failed career as a football star tumbled around him. His face and hands were cut up pretty bad, but that didn’t stop him.

He got up and saw me. I would always remember that look. Blood and bits of glass all over his face and that wild, angry stare like a man at the absolute last end of his tether, ready to commit a desperate act to save himself.

He lunged at me. I cried out and raised my hands to cover my head like an idiot instead of getting the fuck out of his way. I heard his laboured breathing as his big, meaty hands came sailing down at me and I heard my mother screaming too.

The blow never came. My mother hooked an umbrella handle around the bastard’s neck and yanked him to the floor. My father was a huge guy. That took some real strength. She grabbed up one of his heftier trophies and whacked him over the head with it. She whacked him again.
Don’t you ever fucking touch my kid
. Each word emphasized by a whack. Then a few times more even after he’d passed out. Later, she told the police she did it all in self-defence.

My mother was a fierce woman who had beaten her first husband’s face in with a trophy. My mother had worked multiple jobs without complaint to make sure I never lacked for anything important. My mother was a beautiful woman who’d turned heads with her thick, dark hair, healthy figure, and glowing smile.

My mother was not the bald, emaciated creature I’d seen lying in the hospital bed a few moments ago.

A month. She had a month left to live thanks to the lung cancer ravaging her body. And where the fuck had I been? Lima. Bangkok. Seoul. Tokyo. Beirut. All over the damn place except the place I was meant to be: at home by my mother’s side, taking care of her just as she’d taken care of me. Being with her so she wouldn’t go through this on her own.

Well, she wasn’t on her own. She had Harry who loved her with every breath in his body. And she had Mackenzie.

Mac.

God, she hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same with her soft chestnut curls and dark brown eyes. Still beautiful and even more so now that she’d become a woman.

I tightened my fists in my lap as I glared out the window at the passing scenery. Fall had come to Seattle, evidenced by the rain, the yellowing leaves on the trees, and the chilly nip of the breeze. Rainwater squeezed through the gaps in the car’s windows. Mackenzie’s perfume, flowery and light, wafted over to further antagonize me.

Agreeing to stay with her and Harry was a bad idea. I figured all these years away I’d finally grown past what I felt for her. Yet the instant I was back the old temptations I’d fought for years had resurfaced like they never left. I should have taken Mac’s cue when she’d screwed up her face at the hospital. She hadn’t wanted me to come home with them. That much was obvious. But how could I have turned down Harry when the man practically begged me to stay?

I’ll book a hotel as soon as I get back to the house.

And give them what excuse? Harry would be broken up about it, as much as that idea shocked me. Needless to say, we’d never been the best of friends since the day we first met. I’d like to think we’d grown to a grudging acceptance of each other because of my mother, but the way he’d looked at me as though I was his last hope of good news was almost a bit disturbing. I guess an impending death in the family can change a person that much.

It changed me too, because, no, I wasn’t going to run away like I always did. I was older. Far more capable of controlling whatever shit went on inside my head. Especially when it came to Mac. I had my mother to focus on right now. Whatever stupid ideas that popped up about wanting Mac would be squashed into non-existence.

I could handle this. I had conquered bigger tasks than this at work. Overcoming my inappropriate feelings for my stepsister would be a piece of cake.

CHAPTER FOUR

Reid

“Are you hungry?”

I looked up from my phone, midway through texting my assistant. He was new to the gig and while I didn’t trust him yet with field work, I’d assigned him paper trails to follow while I was absent. I had yet to unpack my suitcase. This was my life. All work and no time for relaxation.

Mac leaned one shoulder against the door jamb, her arms folded beneath her breasts. My eyes followed the curvy line of her waist and hip. Only some merciful deity stopped my foolish ass from using some ridiculous line about not being hungry for food but for something else. Wink and nudge included.

I scowled. “No.”

“What’s with the face? I’m not forcing you to eat if you don’t want to.”

“Good. Now go away and let me get back to work.” I continued texting Jeremy.

She scoffed as she entered the room, completely ignoring the glare I threw her way. “Work? I thought your work involved hopping and skipping all over the place chasing money.”

“I don’t chase money, I chase criminals.”

“Who are worth loads of cash.”

I shrugged. “What’s it to you, anyway? A job’s a job. You do the work and you get paid for your efforts. It’s just the same as what you do at Joe’s.”

“
Joe’s
? Wow, Reid, you’ve really been living under a rock.” She laughed, the sound as light and pleasant as her sweet scent. “I’m not a cashier anymore.” Her smile was smug as she touched her hand to her chest. “I’m a librarian.”

I opened my mouth to respond when my gaze honed in on the gleaming piece of jewellery on her finger. Holy fuck. It’s an engagement ring. The size of it an obvious tell that the guy who gave it to her had some deep pockets.

I got to my feet and closed the distance between us. Without thinking, I grabbed her hand so I could eyeball the ring a bit more. I ignored how soft and small her hand felt in mine.

“You’re engaged.”

She tried to tug her hand away but I held on.

Her tone grew defensive. “Yeah. So?”

“To who?” The corners of my lips turned down. “To Kirk?” If it was, I had every intention of paying that asshole a visit and reintroducing him to my fists. Vaguely, I wondered if he remembered the pain from the first time I punched his face in. The idea that Mac was about to settle down with that cheating, abusive douchebag left me a little sick to the stomach.

She scoffed, rolled her eyes and yanked her hand free from my grasp.

“No, Reid. Kirk and I have been over for years since you beat him up. I’m actually seeing someone decent now.” She smiled and it looked forced. “He’s a lawyer from downtown.”

Silence filled the room and the bit of space between us. The gentle patter of the rain against the windows the only sound. Mac gazed up at me, her eyes big and brown, begging my approval.

Suffice it to say that almost all her relationships had come to an abrupt end the moment I got wind of its existence. I was her big brother. I had to look out for her. Her choice in men was absolute shit. Those were the lies I told her and told myself, covering up the inappropriate jealousy simmering underneath.

“His name is Tom,” she continued, fiddling with the ring. “He’s a junior partner at Dad’s firm.” Her smile was like a nervous twitch at the corners of her mouth. “He’s…good. I’m happy.”

I gritted my teeth but put on a mask of boredom. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Her eyebrows knitted in a scowl. Her mouth acquired that well-known pout of irritation that always made me want to grasp her lower lip between my teeth and suck on it. I backed away from her because the urge to do it was way too strong.
She’s my stepsister
, I reminded myself. Then I tacked on another one:
she belongs to another man
.

“You know, Reid? You haven’t changed,” she said. “All that travelling and world experience and yet you’re still like a damn dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade. I
am
happy. I don’t need convincing and I certainly don’t need to convince you.”

Gracing me with a parting glare, she stormed out of the room. I remained standing for a while, inhaling the soft remnants of her scent. I tried to stuff all the anger, jealousy, and the feelings I harboured for Mackenzie back into a deep, dark and forgettable box.

CHAPTER FIVE

Mackenzie

Are you trying to convince me or yourself?

Three days later and Reid’s words still rang in my head.

I breathed in the cool, early-morning fall air as I strolled along the park trail. The light-grey sky stretched wide, brightening the trail and enhancing the vibrant, earthy colours surrounding me. A light breeze disturbed the dried leaves littering the uneven floor. The thick clusters of bushes and various tall trees on either side of the path made it appear narrower. A few paces ahead, a man walked his dog. Judging from the red ball he had in his other hand, no doubt they headed toward the sound where they’d play a game of fetch on the shore.

I smiled at the thought and touched the camera swinging from the strap around my neck. I’d definitely take a few shots of the man and his dog mid-play. Dogs were some of the best subjects for photos. Sometimes they had that eerie ability to stay perfectly still and wait patiently as you captured them. I liked seeing that light in their eyes or even that ghost of a smile when they panted, their tongues lolling out of their mouths.

Taking pictures of animals, of people in play or mid-laughter, pictures of
life
brought me immense joy. When Vera was healthier, she’d laugh and say I was like a vampire. A good one, she’d say. I fed off of people’s happiness from my photos and my hunger never seemed to abate. And I suppose she was right. I often began my day taking at least a few shots that brought a smile to my face.

I guess Reid’s words bothered me because his implication that I was lying about my happiness held truth. For years I felt like I was stuck. I’d lived in Seattle since I was a kid, never venturing out, never attempting to fulfil the few dreams nestled in my heart. I’d jumped from one bad relationship to the next. Even now I was engaged to a guy I didn’t love because my father wished it. A guy who was only interested in me because of my father’s influence on his career. In the measly two months we’d known each other, the only thing we’d done as a ‘couple’ was go on a ferryboat ride together which was filled with stilted, awkward conversation.