Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  I told myself that I was going to give up men for a while, and then I went straight into another one's arms. It's not like it's a new pattern. I chose him. The only person I can blame for making another shitty choice is myself.

  With a surprising amount of energy, I bound out of bed. I let myself get sidetracked, but now I know what I have to do. I head for the shower and after a quick rinse, I pick out a pair of jeans and a blouse and head over to the main house for breakfast.

  Just as I take the last bite of my cereal and walk over to the sink to rinse out my bowl, I hear movement at the door to the hallway. I turn to see Carter staring at me. He looks uncomfortable, nervous even.

  "I wanted to—"

  "You don't have to," I cut him off, raising my hand. "It's good that you left. I fell right back into old patterns, and now I'm snapped out of it. I mean, I couldn't even abide by my own no men rule for a couple weeks. Pathetic, really. But when I drink I always make bad choices, which is why I promised myself I'd cut that out, too. Sorry, I'm rambling," I say with a shake of my head, and put my bowl into the dishwasher. "Maybe we could be friends? It would make our security guard and protectee relationship a little easier."

  "Yeah, friends," he says with a nod, a ripple going across his face that changes his expression into one of blank indifference.

  "Good. Because I need to go somewhere, and I'm guessing you're going to insist on driving me."

  "You guess right."

  I smile and after a stop at the boat house, we walk next to each other toward the garage. I can't deny that I still feel a shiver go down my spine when I'm close to him, but I'm sure that will go away eventually. The important part is not to act so impulsively on my feelings. Maybe my will power is a muscle, and it will get stronger with time.

  "Where to?" he asks as he pulls the Audi out of the garage.

  "University of South Florida," I say, pulling out my phone to look up directions. Even with my eyes down, I can see him glance at me in surprise. "Don't make a big thing of it, OK? I don't know how long it would take me to graduate, or even what I'd want to study."

  "Really?" he asks, and I narrow my eyes at him. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

  "Feeling a little smug, are we?" I tease him. "Well?"

  "Well...it seems like you should do the thing you were pretending you were doing."

  "English, please."

  "In Paris, when you were working at the bakery, you told your family you were working at a startup, helping displaced women or something, right?"

  "Right..."

  "So I think that wasn't just for them. I think that's what you really want to be doing."

  "Business? I don't know."

  "You chose that story pretty specifically. You could have made up anything, why'd you choose that one?"

  I chew my lip while I think for a moment. "I like the idea of helping people, especially women who haven't had opportunities like I have. And I just thought I could see myself doing that—oh, I see what you mean."

  "Right?"

  "My father is a businessman," I say with a frown.

  "There are lots of different kinds of people in business. You don't have to be anything like him," he says softly.

  "If I end up doing this, are you going to rub my face in the fact that it was your idea?"

  He laughs. "No. Only when I need something."

  Chapter Eighteen

  "Am I interrupting something?"

  I glance toward the door of the gym to see Jack standing by the shoulder press machine, arms folded across his chest, a smirk on his lips. I roll my eyes at him, but I feel a blush spread across my cheeks.

  "Ten more seconds," I say to Carter, ignoring Jack, as I press down further on top of him as I stretch his hamstring. He nods, and after one more deep breath, I slowly lower his leg back to the mat. "Did you need something?" I ask my older brother sarcastically.

  "Jack? Where'd you—" I hear Bree's voice and then her footsteps along the hallway. "Oh, hi," she says, looking between me and her brother. "Am I interrupting something?"

  I burst out laughing. "Sorry, but Jack just said the exact same thing. Maybe you two have been spending too much time together."

  "Gross," Bree mumbles.

  "Are you guys going to this gala on Saturday?" Jack asks, sitting on one of the benches. Bree hops onto the mat and crosses her legs.

  "I guess. You?"

  "I have a bye week, so I don't really have any excuse. If we all go, it'll be less boring."

  "The Driscoll kids and the Stratton kids, a united front," I say with a smile.

  "Carter, you have to get a tux," Bree says, poking her older brother with her foot.

  "Yeah, as soon as you get a gown," Carter replies sarcastically.

  "I already have one," Bree retorts with a smile. "And this isn't my first gala."

  "You never wear dresses," Carter says, turning over into a plank. I reach over and adjust his hips slightly.

  "Sometimes I do," Bree replies. "You've been away for a while."

  "Why don't we get ready together, Bree?" I suggest. I've been thinking that I need to expand my friend circle to include people that don't go to clubs on Wednesday nights, and I like Bree.

  "Aw, look at you two, bonding," Jack says.

  "Shut up," I tell him playfully.

  "First of all, yes, and also, Carter told me you're going to go back to college?" Bree asks brightly.

  I glance at Carter and raise my eyebrows. "Maybe. I said maybe," he says. "Thanks, Bree."

  "Sorry! I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret."

  "Well, just keep it under wraps for a little while. I want to have all my ducks in a row before I tell my dad what I'm thinking."

  "He'll love the idea," Jack assures me.

  "Maybe," I reply. Jack has always had an easier relationship with my dad than I have, so I'm not sure he's seen how manipulative my dad can be. Jack's always ready to believe the best in him, and I'm always ready to believe the worst. "Is your boyfriend going to come to the gala?" I ask Bree to avoid more of a conversation about my father.

  "No, he can't. Out of town."

  "I want to meet him," Carter says, picking up an exercise band.

  "No, you want to interrogate him," Bree replies with a smile. "Mom met him, and she liked him."

  "Is it serious?" I ask.

  "Um...I think so," she says with a blush.

  "Ooo," Jack says teasingly. "Sounds like love to me."

  "Is it?" Carter asks, frowning.

  "Hey, both of you back off! Let the girl have her privacy," I intercede, seeing how Bree is squirming.

  "Thank you," she says, shooting the men in the room a withering glance. "I'm glad to see someone has my back."

  * * *

  "Gorgeous," I say, running my fingers over her low-cut satin gown. "I can't wear things with this kind of bodice or I look like I'm in a porno."

  "Well, on the upside, you have big boobs," Bree says with a grin, and I burst out laughing.

  "I guess I shouldn't complain," I reply, cupping my full Cs and admiring them in the mirror.

  "This is still really sexy," Bree says, pointing to the deep purple lace dress hanging in the garment bag on the back of her bathroom door. I don't disagree with her. It's a column dress with a long slit running right up the front. The lace extends all the way to the halter neckline, but it's sheer so you can still see a line of cleavage through it.

  "Thanks. It's pretty old, but it still fits. You don't own very much makeup," I observe, looking at the small bag of makeup on her sink, compared to the giant bag I brought over from the boat house.

  "No, and I don't really know how to put on what I have. My mom was too busy working to show me when I was younger," she says with a shrug.

  "I learned at boarding school from the other girls," I tell her, then hold up a black eye pencil. "Want me to give you a smoky eye?"

  "Oh, sure. I've never done that, but I like how it looks in magazines." She sits on the toilet
, and I bend over, carefully applying a line across her upper lashes, then a thinner one across her lower lashes.

  "Now I'm going to smudge it with the other end, and put some black eyeshadow over," I tell her, showing her the products I'm using. "I feel like one of those women at department stores," I say with a smile. "But if you ever want to use any of my makeup, just go in my bathroom in the boat house."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah, I have a ton. OK, look," I say, leaning back and nodding to the mirror.

  "Hey, look at me," she says, turning her face back and forth. "I mean, thanks."

  "It was easy. You're gorgeous," I tell her, unzipping my garment bag.

  "Sometimes I feel pretty," she says thoughtfully. "Like when I'm with my boyfriend. You know what's funny?" she adds, turning to me. "You're just the kind of person I always thought would be good for Carter. More outgoing, fun...someone to draw him out a little."

  I try to look nonplussed. "That is funny. Too bad we're going to be family."

  She nods. "Not by blood, though. But you're right, of course."

  I take my dress from the back of the door and step into her bedroom to change. In the bathroom, she does the same. I wonder if she meant anything by her comment about Carter and me, or if she was just thinking out loud. She does seem to say most of what's on her mind.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We walk down the stairs together. Our brothers are already waiting in the foyer. I watch them for a second before they turn around. They're not talking, but boys are different...that doesn’t necessarily mean there's tension between them. I hope Jack's not holding any ill will toward Carter due to the nature of their first meeting. Carter's holding a white hat under his arm, but I don't realize why until he turns around.

  He didn't get a tux like his sister suggested, instead electing to wear his dress blues. The dark navy fabric stretches proudly across his broad shoulders, and I spot an array of medals on his chest, though not the Purple Heart. I don't think it would be possible for a man to look better than he does right now. I blush as he glances at me, but give them both a friendly wave to cover it. I hear our parents laughing together from the hallway above us, and they appear a moment later coming down the steps.

  "Well, we all clean up well, I think," Anne says with a proud smile. I see my father's hand resting comfortably on the small of her back, and watch his relaxed expression. I think he really does care for her, in a way I wasn't sure he was capable of.

  We walk outside to the waiting Escalade. I see Carter's mouth twitch as he sees the low cut front, and back, of his little sister's dress. We end up in the far back seat of the car, and I glance at his thigh as he drums his fingers against it.

  "I'm not saying anything," he mutters to me.

  "Yes, you're showing remarkable self-restraint," I reply with a smile. "Are you off-duty tonight, security-wise?" I ask as Roger pulls the car out of the driveway.

  "I'm never off-duty," he replies grimly.

  In about twenty minutes, we pull up at the Tampa Museum of Art. The modern cube of a building is lit up with bluish lights that reflect off the water behind it. We exit the car at the red carpet that's lined with photographers from the local newspaper. Carter hangs awkwardly back as the rest of us gamely pose for a few photos. Even Bree smiles shyly as the photographers snap away. The security car that's been following us pulls away with the Escalade, leaving its three giant passengers to escort us up the steps to the large, covered terrace.

  There's a strong breeze coming off the water, but there are tall heaters set up along the wall to counteract the chill. Women in glittering gowns flit from conversation to conversation, as men in tuxes shake hands and try not to talk business. My father and Anne are quickly surrounded, and I instinctively reach out for a flute of champagne from a passing tray before I remember my promise to myself.

  "See how good I am?" I ask Carter, who is slinking behind me at my elbow. He looks like he wants to melt into the floor and disappear.

  "Talk about self-restraint," he says with a wry smile.

  "Oh, thank god!" I hear behind me, and turn to see Nikki making a beeline for me. She's disregarded the black tie dress code and is wearing a short dress absolutely drenched in sequins. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to Carter. "My, oh my," she murmurs. "Don't we look handsome." Carter grunts uncomfortably in reply.

  "I didn't know you'd be here!" I say.

  "Jonathan dragged me. I thought I was going to faint from boredom before I saw you. You need a drink?"

  "No, thanks."

  "I'm on my third. Or somewhere around there. There's a really beautiful painting in one of the first rooms inside," she confides. "I think it would look great in our living room."

  "It's a museum, not a gallery, Nikki."

  "Everything's for sale, for the right price," she says with a shrug. "I'm going to go find out about the seating arrangements. I want to make sure we're at the same table."

  "OK, but don't switch my—" I begin, but she's already off. And I know she'll be able to make whatever changes she wants to; she knows every event planner in town from hosting her own lavish parties.

  "Look," Carter says, nodding across the water to the shadowy turrets of the University of South Florida in the distance. "Your future school."

  "Do you agree with Jack? You think my father will like the idea?"

  "I don't know. He's a hard man to read."

  "Well, one thing I think I know for sure. He's crazy about your mom."

  "Yeah? That's his crazy?" he asks, nodding toward my father's impassive face.

  I laugh. "Yup, believe it or not. That expression means he's head over heels."

  "Her too," he says. We watch Anne's face, upturned toward Ray as he nods in agreement with someone. Nikki hurries back over with a grin on her face.

  "Fixed it! Moved our seats to your table. You won't be sorry," she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

  "Oh, no. What does that mean?" I ask suspiciously.

  "You'll see!" she replies gaily. "Jonathan!" She hails her husband with a wave and goes scampering off.

  Jack and Bree find us, and we manage to escape much of the small talk that we usually have to go through at these types of events. Jack is only asked for a few photo opportunities, as most people here consider themselves before asking someone for a selfie, even if he is an NFL star.

  Eventually, the crowd starts to move inside, stopping to find their names and table numbers at a banquette by the doors. The atrium is softly lit, with huge centerpieces filled with orchids towering over every table. In the middle sits a dance floor, though it's currently occupied by a string quartet.

  "Is there an auction or something?" Carter asks me quietly as he glances around.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Don't they always raise money at these things?"

  "Yeah, my dad bought the seats. Your donation is paying for your spot at the table."

  "So he paid for all of us..." he concludes with a frown.

  I nod. "It's really just a drop in the bucket for him."

  "Not for me. Everything has strings attached."

  I can't disagree with that statement, and it is a relief to have someone in the family be distrustful of my dad like I am. I can never talk to Jack about the way I feel, he's too quick to defend him.

  As we take our seats, I spot Nikki walking up with her husband Jonathan and another man. I shake my head at her, realizing immediately why she wanted to change seats so much. This is a set-up.

  "Jonathan, you remember Lex, of course," she says as they reach us. Jonathan, a good-looking if slightly pudgy older man, and I kiss on the cheek. "And William, this is my friend Alexa Stratton. Lex, this is William Easting."

  "Lovely to meet you," I tell him, offering him my hand.

  "Likewise," he says, with that glint in his eye that tells me that he finds me attractive. It's mutual, if completely theoretical. I can't deny that he's conventionally handsome, with light brown hair and an e
asy smile, but I have absolutely no interest in getting involved with him.

  "Why don't you sit next to her, and I'll sit here," Nikki suggests. I have to restrain myself from rolling my eyes at her naked matchmaking.

  "Ray, good to see you again," William says, and walks over to my father instead of taking his seat. Jonathan follows, and the three of them talk on the other side of the table.

  "Wharton graduate, family money, in energy," Nikki whispers hurriedly to me as we sit.

  "I didn't ask you to fix me up with anyone," I hiss back.

  "You're welcome!" she replies infuriatingly.

  Chapter Twenty

  The four courses pass quickly. William is a good conversationalist, and Jack brightens any social gathering just by being his ridiculous self. Bree has snuck a couple glasses of wine and has a cute flush to her cheeks, though Carter has been mostly silent. I don't think galas are his scene. Nikki is having an absolute ball, though I notice Jonathan's hand on her arm, discouraging her from having a seventh vodka soda.

  As the dessert, a delicate raspberry chocolate mousse, is served, the string quartet vanishes, replaced by a jazz band with at least fifteen instrumentalists. I take a couple bites, but I'm pretty much stuffed already. I hand the rest over to Jack, who quickly inhales it. He's always been a reliable garbage disposal, consuming any food I can't.

  I turn my chair to watch the couples, and can't help tapping my foot to the swing music. "You dance?" William asks.

  "A little."

  "Where'd you learn?"

  I grin. "From a retired dance teacher in Paris. You?"

  "Required class at my boarding school," he answers, extending his hand to me. I pause, and then put my hand in his. I do love to dance.

  He leads me out into the middle of the floor, and then with a flick of his wrist, he pulls me into him. He has excellent form, his left arm strong but relaxed, and his right hand guiding me at the small of my back.

  "Where'd you stay while you were in Paris? The Four Seasons?"