Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) (3 page)

Chapter Four

I feel his head fall against the back of my neck. The hair
of his beard tickles my sweaty skin as he softly brushes a kiss on my spine. As
he stands back up, I raise my head and slowly open my eyes. I feel like I was
just transported, and am surprised to be seeing that I've been in this airplane
bathroom the whole time.

I blush as he locks eyes with me in the bathroom mirror,
surprising myself. I'm not ashamed of what's just happened, but I'm feeling
oddly vulnerable. He pulls out, and I grab a tissue and hand it to him, taking
one for myself. My mind is a blank, and I can't think of anything to say, which
is quite unlike me.

"What?" I finally say as I catch him looking at
me.

"Nothing. It's just been a while since I've met someone
like you."

"Well, haven't you been in a war zone?"

He lets out an abrupt bark of laughter. "Good point.
Ladies first," he adds sweeping his arm toward the door.

I check myself in the mirror. I'm certainly flushed, but the
cabin is dimly lit now anyway. I unlock the door and close it behind me. No one
looks my way as I sit back down in my seat. Outside the window, I can see the lights
of the Florida panhandle below us. Almost home.

Next to me, I hear the veteran's limping walk as he returns
to his seat. I don't turn my head, and a frown creases across my forehead. I
was hoping to get men out of my system for a while with this last fling, but
right now, all I want is a second round with this one. And a third, and a
fourth...

I usually can't orgasm with someone I've just met. The sex
will still be fun and all, but usually I have to be in a long-term relationship
for the comfort level I need to orgasm. And not to mention, that orgasm was one
of the best I've ever had. Maybe the best. OK, definitely the best. I feel like
my head just popped off my body.

No. No, no, no. This guy, this fling, this whatever, is no
different from the others. I do this every time. I become immediately
infatuated and lose myself and all perspective. And with every one, I tell
myself that this one is different. But it never is. This just confirms that I
was right to swear off men altogether.

Outside, the engines make a whooshing sound, and the flaps
on the wings change angles. The seatbelt light turns on and Luc comes down the
aisle, peering into every row. I fasten the belt over me, and Luc smiles as he
passes me. I can't tell if he's just being polite, or if he saw me go into the
bathroom with the stranger. I'm sure we're not the first people to join the
mile-high club on his watch.

"It was a suicide bomber."

I turn my head toward him. He said it so quietly that I
wasn't sure I heard him correctly. He's staring out the window past me, eyes
glazed.

"I know you didn't ask. But you're the first person
I've actually wanted to tell. We were training members of the Afghan army, and
one of them had a vest on under his clothes. Got four of our unit, including my
best friend."

He looks up at me, though his mind is somewhere else behind
his eyes. The thousand yard stare. I've heard of it but never seen it before,
though somehow I recognize it immediately. I want to reach across the console
and take his hand in mine, but something stops me.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe there's safety in being
strangers," he murmurs. "Hell, most of the time I just want to head
out into the wilderness and never come back."

I smile sadly and nod. See? I was right. The other shoe
always drops. I always manage to be attracted to the completely unavailable
men. This one's so damaged he doesn't even want to be a part of society
anymore.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I know it's not pity you're
looking for," I murmur. "Whatever it is, though, I hope you find
it."

"Hope," he repeats. "Hope," he murmurs
again, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. I leave him to them, turning back to
the window.

The plane begins its descent in earnest. Soon the pilot
lowers the landing gear, and we make a smooth touch down. As the plane taxis to
the gate, the passengers around us undo their seatbelts and turn their cell
phones back on. I reach under my seat for my purse and stand up as the jetway
is attached. Luc appears at our row with the man's crutches.

"You go ahead," he says.

I nod and step around him. I'd like to say something, but
with Luc standing there and the other passengers walking past, it feels
awkward. I turn back, and all I can do is smile. He nods, and I follow the rest
of the passengers into the terminal.

I walk quickly, trying to shake off any lingering emotions
and leave them on the plane. This is the start of my new chapter, and I can't
be bringing a bunch of emotional baggage with me. Physical baggage, though, is
a different story.

I wait for my suitcases at the carousel. It takes a while
for them to be unloaded from the plane, and I grab a trolley to help me carry
them out. Finally, the alarm sounds, and I spot the first piece of my luggage,
followed closely by the second and third. I heave them onto the trolley and
pull it out toward the pickup area.

I take out my phone and scroll through my emails, searching
for the one from my dad's assistant, telling me the make and license plate of
the driver's car. I told him I could just take a taxi, but he was quite
insistent, and he got his way as usual.

"Ms. Stratton?" a voice says. I look up to see a
short, balding man smiling obsequiously at me. He gestures behind himself to
his stretch limo. "May I take your bags?"

"Um, sure," I murmur. "Wait, no," I say,
as I find the email. That car's been sent for me, actually." I nod to a
burly man in a dark suit standing by a similarly dark Escalade. I double-check
the license plate, and give him a wave. "How did you know my name,
though?"

"Recognized you from the society pages. My client
missed his flight, so..." he trails off with a shrug.

"Ah, gotcha." I turn toward the Escalade. Hi! I'm
Lex," I introduce myself to the large man and shake his hand. He almost
breaks mine with his monster grip.

"Ma'am," he says formally. "Let me get your
bags." He loads them into the trunk as I hop in the backseat. When he gets
into the driver's seat and shuts the door, I lean forward.

"What's your name?"

"Roger Gleason, ma'am."

"You don't have to call me that. You can call me
Lex." He pauses, seeming to waver. I glance out the tinted window and spot
the veteran. He's got two duffel bags slung across his wide chest and is still
walking with his crutches, glancing around, probably looking for the taxi line.
And I'm the one who gets a driver. I know we said we'd go our separate ways,
but I can't just leave him struggling like this.

Roger starts to pull away. "Hang on a sec," I tell
him, and roll down the window. "Hey, stranger! Need a ride?"

He glances up. "I can handle it."

"Alright, then let's just say I want the company."
I turn to Roger. "Help him with his bags, will you?" I murmur. Roger
hops out and takes the duffels. The veteran frowns, but lets him. He stares at
the car for a second, then walks toward it. I shift over to the other seat so
he can take the closer one, and push the door open for him. He lays his
crutches on the floor and then hops in. Roger gets back in the front seat and
looks in the rearview mirror.

"Where to, sir?"

"Um, one second. I'm not sure of the address," he
replies, taking out an old flip phone and scrolling through his texts.

"Not going home?" I ask as Roger finally pulls the
car away from the curb.

"Well, I guess it's home now. My mom's getting
remarried, and this is her fiance's house."

"Oh, that's funny. My dad's getting remarried," I
remark. As I hear the words come out of my mouth, my heart skips a beat. It
can't be... He's still looking down at his phone. I lower my voice.
"What's your last name?"

"Thought we were doing this whole anonymous thing."

"Your mom is getting remarried. My dad's fiancé just
moved into his house with her daughter," I recap. His eyes widen.

"No. Oh, fuck," he swears. "Is your last name
Stratton?"

"Yep," I answer shortly, leaning back in my seat
with a grimace.

"Fuck," he repeats.

"What exit should I take?" Roger asks from the
front seat as we speed along the highway.

"It's just going to be one stop," I reply.
"Turns out this is my future step-brother."

Chapter Five

The ride back to my house,
our
house, is awkward to
say the least. I have to ask Roger to turn the radio on because the silence is
so deafening. If only the music could quiet my thoughts. I can't stop berating
myself for making yet another stupid decision. I need some kind of very
specific life coach that will take over all the decision-making when it comes
to men.

So much for staying strangers. I'm going to be
living
with this guy! Carter is his name, I remember from my brief talks with Jack.
Now that I think about it, I do remember him saying that the brother was in the
military, but I thought the brother was the younger sibling, so I was picturing
a fresh-faced private, not a bearded, full-grown professional soldier
.

I steal a glance at Carter. It goes without saying that
we're going to keep this a secret, right? My instinct is that I don't have to
worry about him. He seems like he'd be discreet, barring his one confession
toward the end of the flight. I wonder if he regrets opening up to me now. Oh,
shit.
I told him the truth about what I've been doing in Paris. Perfect. Just
perfect.

At the security gates to our private neighborhood, Roger
leans out and flashes his ID. The guard takes his time looking it over, and for
the first time, I notice Carter shifting around in his seat. He's been
completely still ever since we figured out the truth of our...relationship.

Finally, we're let in, and I glance out the window at the
passing homes, glaringly bright even in the darkness. The measure of opulence
is so different here. In Paris, it was quieter, a whisper. Here, people are
shouting about their wealth from the rooftops of their gilded mansions.

Roger pulls into the circular driveway and stops at the
front door. As he hops out and goes to the trunk for our luggage, I lean over
and whisper hurriedly to Carter.

"We first met when we were coming out of baggage claim
and you have no idea what I was doing in Paris, OK?" He nods in agreement
and I hear the trunk open. "And my name's Alexa. Lex."

I hop out of the car and look up as the front door opens. A
very attractive woman with her dark hair worn in a long bob opens the door with
a welcoming smile. Anne, I presume, my father's fiancée.

"Hi," she says. "I'm—" she breaks off as
she glances to the other side of the car where Carter is stepping out onto the
paving stones. She gasps, tears springing to her eyes. She runs toward him,
catching him off-balance as she flings her arms around his neck. He rubs her
back as she sobs against his chest. I avert my eyes, wanting to give them some
privacy. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?" she says,
leaning her head back and slapping him on the shoulder.

It never occurred to me to wonder why no one was picking him
up from the airport. "I didn't even know until a couple days ago that I
was being given the all clear to go home, so I figured I'd just let it be a
surprise," he answers, looking a bit bashful.

"But I don't understand," Anne says, glancing at
me and the car.

"Alexa saw me at baggage claim and offered me a ride.
She didn't realize who I was."

"That was kind of you," Anne says, wiping her
cheeks and walking over to give me a hug. "Were you on the same
flight?"

"Looks like it," I confirm.

"How funny!" she remarks innocently. I smile
ruefully, but I've already decided that I like her. Whether or not I can
picture her with my father is a different story. "Well, let's get your
bags inside. I'll get it, hon," she tells Carter as he leans down for one
of his duffels.

"Mom—"

"Carter," she says firmly, and he relents. I smile
and grab the handle of one of my bags. "We can go around the side, Roger.
My room's in the boat house."

As we turn to walk around, I spot a young woman silhouetted
against the front door. She looks frozen for a moment, and then runs toward
Carter. He laughs and drops his crutches as she nearly tackles him.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us!" she shrieks
as she dangles from his neck. "You
would
do something like
that!"

"Bree, I've only got one good leg here!" Carter
protests, and she lets herself drop back down to the ground. She spots me and
turns. Her gregariousness with her brother disappears, and she smiles shyly at
me.

"I'm Lex," I say leaving my suitcase to shake her
hand.

"Bree," she says. As I get closer, I can see that
she's strikingly beautiful, with high cheekbones and long, thick blonde hair
pulled up on top of her head. She wears boyish, baggy clothes, making her
petite frame look even smaller. Even though I'm only five foot seven, I tower
over her.

"Does Jack have a game this week?" I turn to ask
Anne, with siblings on my mind.

"Yeah," Bree answers for her mother. She clears
her throat. "I mean, I think so."

Anne nods. "I'll never get used to the NFL having
football games on Thanksgiving, and I've had plenty of time to adjust."
I'm not sure what she means, but I smile anyway. "So! Why don't you two
get settled, and then we can reconvene in the living room! I know it's getting
late, but I want a full report of the trip. And your father should be home
soon," she adds, turning to me.

"Great," I reply with a smile. "See you in a
bit." I take the handle of my suitcase again and Roger follows me, using
the small stone path that hugs close to the side of the house and stretches all
the way to the boat house. He helps me lug my suitcases up to the second floor,
and I push the door open to my bedroom. "Thanks, Roger. Will I be seeing
you around again?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm working here full-time now."

"Oh. Well, good then," I say, a bit surprised. He
turns and walks back down the steps. I watch him go, wondering if there are any
more changes around here I don't know about. Maybe my father hired him to drive
Anne and her daughter around? Who knows...his motivations have always been
difficult for me to understand.

I turn back toward my bedroom, pulling in my suitcases off
the landing. It smells a bit musty in here, though I can tell someone's cleaned
the dust off everything and left a window open. I sigh, trying to remember the
last time I was here. It must have been the summer after my sophomore year,
because I headed to France just after the start of my junior year.

I leave my bags by the sitting area, deciding I'd rather
have a shower than unpack right now. I flick the lights on in the bathroom and
strip off my clothes as the water warms up. I forgot how immediately sticky the
Florida air can make me feel, even in November. Though I also didn't get a
chance to clean up after having sex in the airplane bathroom, so that might not
be helping matters.

I shiver even as I step under the hot water, remembering the
way he touched me. He was so commanding, but still gentle. I run my fingers
over the back of my neck where he kissed me, and can almost smell him in the
air. My eyes fly open. I cannot let myself get all hot and bothered by him. I'm
about to go hang out with his mom and his sister, for fuck's sake.