Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (57 page)

We’re standing in a reception area where stewards in fancy white uniforms wait for something to do, their eyes scanning the passengers like a little flock of hyenas. Probably deciding who’s likely to give the biggest tips. A line of guests in much fancier dress than me stand ahead of us, getting checked in as quickly as the frazzled desk clerk can process them.

I glance at Gavin, who’s looking everywhere but me. Dressed casually too, he makes me feel less like the odd girl out. Worn jeans, though I’m sure they’re designer something or other. A plain black t-shirt, his biker jacket thrown over his shoulder and leather motorcycle boots on his feet. We get a few looks, but whatever. What are they going to do? Throw us off the ship?

He turns to me and catches me watching him. With a grin, he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close, making me squeak. “Oh Marie,” he says, using Mom’s name. “I can’t wait until we get hitched.” He leans in to give me a kiss, but I dodge it. “Oh, come on, babe.”

I sigh dramatically. “Not until we’re married, Herbie.” At first he frowns at the nickname, but it quickly turns to a laugh. He’s enjoying this game way too much. And so am I. For now, we’re in on this together, and it's kind of fun.

He whispers to me loudly, but I don’t think anyone else can hear, “I’ll have to settle for dreaming of you on our wedding night. On all fours, with your gown up around your waist.” He leans closer. “Just waiting for me.”

“Well, keep dreaming, since that’s as close as you’ll ever get.”

He laughs again. “We’ll see about that.”

I’m about to throw another retort his way when a voice speaks up. “I tell you Mabel, liners these days wouldn’t know luxury if it bit them in the ass. Making us stand in line, of all things. Remember back when we were young? When the only pause before a steward showed us to our suite was to pick up a cocktail?” The voice is worn with age, but clear and loud. Also it’s right behind us. I peek over my shoulder.

The woman who spoke looks old enough to be my great-grandmother, but she stands tall and her eyes are sharp, scanning the reception critically. Stylish and slim, she carries herself like she’s half her age, though that’s still old enough to be my mom. Her mouth is a slim straight line as she examines the line in frustration.

“Do you think the—the buffet is open, Joyce?” Standing next to her, hunched over a walker is her companion, who I assume is Mabel from Joyce’s tirade. Contrary to her friend, Mabel looks her age, crooked and bent, clutching her handles with shaking hands. Her floral dress, while probably expensive, hangs loosely.

Joyce huffs noisily. “I’m sure it will be soon. Though if the line doesn’t start moving faster, I do believe we may meet our end here, Mabel. It’s all over.” Her tone moves smoothly from frustrated to melodramatic. I’d say she was bitchy, but then I see the way her eyes soften when she looks at her friend, and how she’s supporting her while they wait. She’s just impatient, and this waiting isn’t easy for Mabel.

Well, Mom always said to do the right thing. “Excuse me.” I get Joyce’s attention, her gaze hawk like again. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t much, but you can go ahead of us at least.”

Joyce’s expression softens again, and she actually cracks a smile. “Thank you, dearie. It’s nice to see that good manners haven’t completely died out. Some days...” She trails off while I get out of the way. I’m glad to see Gavin moving as well, but then he frowns a moment. He throws me a sly glance, as if to say
watch this.

“You know what, ladies? Making you wait like this is unacceptable. Follow me.” And as simply as that, he forces his way through the crowd. “Come on, people. Let the ladies through. What kind of misanthropes are you?”

Misanthropes? I’m surprised he even knows the word. Still, the crowd parts reluctantly, letting the four of us past, until we’re standing at the desk with the surly concierge glaring up at us. “What’s going on?” The couple he was helping, the man in skinny jeans and a polo jacket, the woman in a designer dress and some awfully big and gaudy jewelry, glare at us, their eyes shooting daggers. They obviously want to object, but Gavin’s a pretty scary guy when he wants to be. They stay to the side and fume quietly.

He flexes as he leans on the concierge’s desk, looking down with pure disdain. His tattoos shift enticingly, though I’m pretty sure that’s not what the man in front of him thinks. Gavin’s voice is even, calm and full of steel. “I’m not sure what you think customer service is around here, but this sure as hell isn’t it.”

The concierge sighs dramatically, then explains in a bored voice, as if he’s already had to do this several times today, “Sir, we’re processing the line as quickly as we can. If you’d just go back to your position—”

“Listen...” Gavin takes a look at his name tag. “Richard. Dick? Can I call you Dick?”

“I—” The concierge doesn’t get far.

“Listen,
Dick
, these two ladies have lived far too long to have to wait for a weasel like you. If you guys don’t have an express lane for seniors, well, then I’m opening one now. Starting with them.” He looms closer for emphasis.

“Sir, we don’t— I can’t—” Dick is so shocked he can’t make words.

“You can and you will.” He gestures magnanimously for Joyce and Mabel to step up to the counter, then hangs back just far enough to never leave Dick’s field of vision. Crossing his arms over his powerful chest, he glares until the sour concierge helps them check in.

Wow. I don’t even know if he’s an ass, a hero, or both. I’m glad the two old ladies don’t have to wait any longer, but holy crap.
He
obviously doesn’t care, but I can feel the eyes of everyone around us boring angrily into my back.

Joyce turns to us with a remarkably childish grin. “Thank you so much, young man. You’re a brute, but you used it to our advantage, so we appreciate it.”

Gavin shrugs. “I do what I must.”

“You do indeed. You remind me a lot of my fourth husband, actually—” Mabel interrupts her by pulling on her sleeve. “I suppose I’m needed. Thank you again.”

I give them a little wave and a smile as they walk towards the elevators. Meanwhile, Gavin’s turned back to the counter.

The concierge tries to take charge again. “Sir, you’re not a senior. Please get back in—”

“Oh shut up. You want to get rid of us, so here’s your chance. Herbert Caldwell and Marie Wilson. We have a suite.” Gavin talks right over him, but when he hears the names, it’s like the concierge is a whole new person. He lights up, smiling broadly, eager to help. I roll my eyes. What a suck up.

Gavin receives our key cards and hands one to me which I jam in my pocket. He thanks the concierge for his help, then picks up both of our suitcases and sets off towards the elevators with long strides, giving me nothing to do except follow. I catch up, just in time to hear him mumble something like, “...ass-kissing motherfucker.”

Maybe not in those words, but for once we agree on something.

T
he door opens to our room, and even Gavin whistles. “Nice choice, Dad. It’s the fucking bridal suite.” He steps inside with our suitcases, leaving me in the doorway with my mouth hanging open and my eyes flitting around the room.

Our cabin’s huge. Two rooms. The bright white walls are covered with floral murals that are so detailed that I half expect to be able to smell them. I can’t keep from running my fingers over everything, like I have to check if it’s real.

The room has all the typical hotel room things, a sitting area, a minibar, closets and drawers, but everything looks money. Stainless steel and polished wood. Gold trim. The two love seats are so white I’m afraid to sit down and get them dirty. The pink heart shaped pillows are a little hokey, though.

A gorgeous bouquet of roses stands in a vase on the low glass coffee table, as well as a bucket of champagne and a box of fancy chocolates. I don’t know champagne, but I bet it’s the good stuff. While Gavin carries our suitcases into the bedroom, I sneak one of the chocolates, and it’s amazing. Smooth and delicious, filled with some sort of alcohol that melts in my mouth and warms my stomach.

Large windows line the opposite wall, framing a door that leads out to a huge balcony. It opens easily, and crisp ocean air fills my lungs as I step out into the night. This close to the city, there aren’t a lot of stars out, but the view from this high up is breathtaking. Not quite as nice as Gavin’s apartment, but close.

I should check out the bedroom, if only to make sure Gavin isn’t rooting through my underwear or something. I peek my head in, but all I catch him doing is lying on the bed without having taken off his shoes. He looks up when he notices me and smirks. “Going to join me on the bed? Plenty of room, though I do like to spread out. You might have to sleep on top of me. Or under.”

God, he just won’t quit. I’m not even dignifying that with an answer.

I kick off my heels. The plush carpet is smooth and soft under my bare feet. Roses and lilies spread in full bloom across the walls, continuing the amazing patterns from the living room. Romantic if, you know, you were actually here for romance. And not stuck here with an idiot stepbrother.

The only real piece of furniture in the bedroom is the bed, but it’s huge. White satin sheets, mounds of white pillows, a thick white down comforter. Everything is white. A white lacy canopy, attached to the ceiling, hangs around it, tied back with satin ribbons. Old fashioned, but in a modern way. Any bride would be thrilled to be here.

“Alright, I’m thirsty.” Gavin jumps off the bed, miraculously not leaving any stains on the sheets. Rooting in the bar cabinet, he examines the bottles carefully before choosing one. The liquor is so dark it’s almost brown. He pauses and arches an eyebrow at me. “You want some?”

“Uh, no. I’ll go with water for now.”

“Suit yourself.” Opening the fridge next to the bar cabinet, he pulls out a bottle of water and tosses it at me. “Think fast.”

I catch it. Go me. “Doesn’t that stuff cost a fortune?”

“What do you think this is, a motel? For what we’re paying I could call that stick-up-his-ass desk jockey up to serve for me.” He grins and screws the cork off the bottle, pouring himself a solid dash in a glass tumbler before recorking it and returning it to the cabinet. “So now what? Christen the bed? Or the couches, maybe? Oh, I know!” He grins over a sip of whisky. “We should do it on the balcony.”

What? “You do realize that we’re not going to fuck, right? And that you’re sleeping on that couch in the other room.” Boundaries. We need them, ASAP.

He eyes me skeptically. “It’s a big fucking bed. Plenty of room for us even without me getting between your legs.”

“Couch.”

“You’re a cruel bitch, Sis.” He sighs melodramatically. “But I suppose I knew that.”

My train of thought as I try to come up with a reply is interrupted when the ship’s horn blows loud enough to make me jump. Three long blasts and then the floor shifts just slightly under my feet. Outside the windows, the city seems like it’s moving very slowly. I want to go look, but I don’t want to act like a tourist.

Gavin solves it for me. “This is your first time, right? Let’s watch.” He grabs his tumbler and heads for the balcony.

I don’t really want be anywhere near him right now, but I do want to see. I might never be on a luxury cruise ship again, so I follow him outside. It’s windy this high up, making me shiver. I should’ve dug my sweater out of my suitcase, but if I take the time to find it now, I’ll miss it.

Gavin sees me shiver and stands behind me. “I’ll keep you warm, if you want.”

Rolling my eyes, I bite back over my shoulder, “Don’t touch me.”

He steps back, raising his hands. “Hey, just offering, Sis. It’s the kinda stuff big brothers do, right?”

Whatever. I know exactly what kind of brotherly love he has for me, and chivalry has nothing to do with it. Besides, I have a luxury liner departure to watch.

It’s not quite like in those old movies with the transatlantic ships setting out and the docks packed with cheering people and streamers, but there’re at least a few people down there under the floodlights keeping the dock lit, waving as the ship pulls out. I wave back, though I’ve no idea who they are. They probably can’t see me up here anyway. Gavin throws me an amused glance before looking the other way, towards the open ocean.

As the ship picks up steam, it’s not long before the only sounds left are seagulls, water streaming by below us and the rumble of engines deep within the ship. It’s beautiful, but watching the shore pull away is a little scary too. There’s no running away now.

Gavin drops into a deck chair and sets his drink on the table next to it. The sun set a while ago, and the only light is what streams out from our room, so from my angle he’s mostly hidden in darkness.

“You’re being unusually quiet. I haven’t heard a crude comment in minutes.” I sit in the chair across the table from him.

“I dunno. Thinking about this marriage shit.”

“If I’m not letting you fuck me, I’m sure as hell not letting you marry me.”

He laughs. “We’ll see about that. What about you?”

“What about me?” I have lots of feelings about the marriage, most of which I don’t intend to share with him.

“What do you think of this whole marriage thing? Your mom’s getting hitched to a multimillionaire, if not billionaire. I lost track of how much money he makes a long time ago. That’s got to be a little weird for a girl... um... in your situation.” He trails off.

Ouch, direct hit. “
In my situation
? And what situation is that exactly?” My eyes shoot daggers at his outline.

“Well, you know... I mean, I guess you’re not homeless exactly, but now you’re suddenly heading into super rich territory. What do you think you’ll get out of it?” He takes a sip. “College money? Fancy clothes? A car?”

That is so far beyond insulting, words almost fail me. “Screw you, Gavin. I can work for my own damn things, if that’s what you’re so worried about. I’ve got a free ride to Stanford.”

“Fuck, should’ve known. You’re smart
and
sexy. What are you going for?” His question sounds like an inmate’s.
What are you in for?