by Lexi Ryan
When Mason told me he was headed to the damn bar with Keegan so he’d be there when the girls were ready to go home, I realized the flaw in my logic.
Opposite Bailey, Grace is cozied up next to Sebastian Crowe, and the sight makes me want to introduce my new running back to my fist for reasons I’d rather not analyze.
“Oh, look, Grace,” Bailey says when I approach the table. “It’s your roommate.” She turns to Sebastian and gestures to me and Grace. “You know these two are going to share a room this summer?”
Sebastian cocks a brow. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” I growl. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“I was just getting to know your sister,” Sebastian says. I’m guessing he can see murder in my eyes.
“They’re not actually siblings,” Bailey says.
“Yeah,” Grace says, “he’s more my babysitter than my brother.” Her words are slurred. Of course they fucking are. Because she’s been drinking. In a bar. Illegally. Thanks a lot, Bailey.
“If I’m your babysitter, does that mean I can spank your ass?” Fuck. I meant to let her know I was angry and to suggest that maybe she needs the babysitter she accuses me of being. But the second the words are out of my mouth, I hear all of the sexual tension I’ve been carrying around since Thursday—and I’m pretty sure my friends hear it too.
Bailey bites her lip, and Mia ducks her head as she tries to hide her laugh. Even Sebastian’s face says he’s fighting like hell to contain his amusement—and I wish I could take it back, but hell, Grace makes me so crazy.
Sebastian slides out of the booth and directs me into his spot, but Grace is already climbing out. “I’m not sure it’s my thing, but I’m up for trying anything once.”
Bailey isn’t as nice as Mia, and she laughs so hard she snorts.
“Bail,” I warn. “You don’t want to start with me. Seriously.” I lower my voice so no one else will hear. “She’s not twenty-one.”
“Oh my God,” Grace says. “Have you ever broken a rule in your whole life?”
“He’s not much of a rule breaker,” Mia says. She holds her hands a couple of centimeters apart and squints at the space between them. “Straight and narrow.”
“Are you all drunk?” I ask, then I spot the miscellany of empty shot glasses on the table. It was hard to see anything else when all I could focus on was how cozy Grace and Sebastian looked next to each other. I sigh. “Fucking fantastic. I’m taking Grace home. Mason’s here, and he’ll get you two home when you’re ready.”
“You’re embarrassing me,” Grace says. She looks at the girls and makes a pouty face. “He doesn’t mean to be such a spoilsport, but he takes his job very seriously.”
“And that job would be as your nanny?” Sebastian asks, playing right into her hands.
Grace lifts her eyes to the ceiling, as if contemplating the word. “My manny?”
The girls burst into fits of laughter, and Mason joins us at the table. “What’s so funny over here?”
“Chris,” Bailey says. “He’s even cuter when he’s frazzled.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, hoping to find patience but catching Grace’s scent instead. The smell of her does anything but calm me down. In fact, I feel a little crazy, and part of my brain is turning over the possibility of dragging her out of here, getting her home, and smacking her ass just to see what she’d do. “Come on, Grace.” I wrap my arm around her waist to steady her. “Let’s go.” I look to Bailey and Mia, who are still giggling at my expense. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
As we walk to the back exit, Grace tilts her face up to me and smiles. “I’m not that drunk. I can walk on my own.”
“Well, there’s an excise officer out front, so I’d rather keep a hold of you and sneak out the back if you don’t mind.”
“Just don’t be trying to cop a feel or something.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I mutter.
“Don’t you trust your friends?”
I turn to see her watching me, her eyes narrowed as if she’s trying to figure me out. “I trust them.”
“Then why did you swoop in there and drag me away like that? We were just having a good time.”
Because I didn’t like the way you were smiling at Crowe. Because I hate that you’re not off-limits to him, but you are to me.
When I went to Tracy’s bar, I told myself it was to keep an eye on Grace, to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid while in a place she shouldn’t have been to begin with. It was only after I saw her with Sebastian that I got a stick up my ass.
“I made a promise to your dad,” I say, and even if it’s the truth, it feels like a weak excuse next to everything else I’m feeling. “Can we just agree now that you’ll refrain from any and all illegal activities?”
She snorts and stumbles a little as we weave around a truck to get to my car. “All of them? That doesn’t seem likely, considering some of the antiquated laws still in the books. Did you know oral sex is illegal in Indiana? It’s also illegal for a man to get a boner in public.”
“What?” I rub my forehead. I might not survive this summer. “I’m not even going to ask how you know those things—”
“Weird sex laws are fascinating.” She grins. Her eyes float closed, which makes me think of getting her in bed, which makes me think of Grace in my bed, which makes me think of Thursday night and weird sex laws in Indiana, which makes me think of how fucking much I want her. Every minute I’m with her, I care less that we’re related by marriage. Despite my friends’ jabs, we’re adults, and our parents’ marriage doesn’t really impact our relationship aside from pushing us together to begin with.
But what does matter is that she lied to me. I don’t have to know what kind of trouble she’s gotten into in the past to be cautious of a liar. I’ve been burned before by someone who had only a causal commitment to the truth and, frankly, it sucked.
I’m not going to make that mistake again, no matter how tempting.
Get her home, get her in bed, and keep her safe.
I help her into the car, checking to make sure she can get her own seatbelt.
“I’m fine,” she promises.
I close her door, and as I walk around to my side of the car, I find myself face to face with Sebastian’s little sister. “Olivia,” I say, lifting my chin. She’s leaning against the back of my car in frayed cutoff jean shorts and a dark tank. “What are you doing here?”
“I saw your car. I want to talk.”
I exhale heavily. “I told you last week that I don’t have anything to say to you. That hasn’t changed.”
When I make a move to step around her, she closes the distance between us and loops her arms behind my neck. “I’ve missed you.”
“You’re full of it,” I mutter.
“Come on.” Rising onto her toes, she tilts her face up and rubs her nose against my chin. “You’ve missed me too, haven’t you?”
“I caught you with Keegan.” I take a big step back, and she can’t reach me anymore, so her arms drop to her sides. “I told you it’s over.”
“Is it really that easy for you?” She wraps her arms around her middle, as if she needs to protect herself from me. “Because it’s not for me.”
“Is this the girlfriend?” Grace asks.
Fuck. I didn’t even hear Grace get out of the car, and now she’s leaning against it, watching us like we’re free entertainment. How much did she just see and hear?
“No,” I say, and at the same time, Olivia says, “Yeah.”
I turn to Olivia. “What are you doing?”
Our “relationship,” if you want to call it that, was a few months that consisted of us sneaking around so her brother wouldn’t know we were dating. The whole arrangement made me feel like an asshole. One, Sebastian’s my teammate, and you don’t screw around with a teammate’s sister. Two, if you must break rule number one, you fucking own up to it. But Olivia was insistent that
we keep our relationship a secret, and I liked her enough that I agreed, even though it felt wrong. Then not long after I buried one of my best friends, I caught her kissing Keegan and put a stop to all of it. And now she’s going to tell Grace, of all fucking people, that we’re a couple?
Olivia frowns at Grace, giving her a once-over. “I’m Olivia Crowe. Are you the new stepsister?”
Grace turns her eyes on me. “Is there anyone you didn’t prepare for my arrival?”
“We were just leaving,” I tell Olivia, sidestepping her to get to the driver’s door.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia.”
I climb into the car and slam the door shut. I buckle in and wait for Grace to do the same.
Once we’re headed home, I breathe a little easier until Grace says, “So does Sebastian know you’re fucking his sister?”
Chapter Eighteen
Grace
I wonder if these people have any idea how lucky they are.
We arrived at Arrow Woodison’s house (cough—mansion—cough) thirty minutes ago, and since then, it’s been laughter and smiles and beautiful people without a care in the world. It’s unreal. Like an extended beer commercial, only with less alcohol. Despite all the party environments I’ve been in with Chris in the last five days, I have yet to see Chris drink so much as a beer. Arrow isn’t drinking at all. Mason grabbed a beer when we arrived, but he’s nursing it, not chugging it. Of the half a dozen other guests at the party, only a couple have a beer in hand, and the rest are drinking tea or water.
Arrow’s house is unreal. He lives on this gorgeous property right outside of Blackhawk Valley, and the pool area out back belongs in a vacation brochure.
I came with Chris, but while he’s been chatting with his friends, I’ve been hanging in the shadows by the back doors. He keeps turning away from his conversation to find me with his eyes, and I keep shaking my head when he waves me over.
Last night was weird, from the part where he stormed into the bar and dragged me out of there like a disapproving father (have one of those already, thanks), to the chick making doe eyes at him in the parking lot, to his insistence on the drive home that there was nothing between him and Sebastian’s sister. “I thought once that there might be, but it didn’t work out,” he told me.
We got home from the bar, and he handed me a glass of water and a couple of ibuprofen, and excused himself to the shower. I climbed into bed, too tired to think about Chris sleeping on the couch, too buzzed to think about what he was or wasn’t wearing or if he sleeps with his hands at his sides or over his head.
Then, like clockwork, my insomnia woke me the second my buzz wore off. I padded out to the kitchen to find a snack and there he was, sleeping with one leg off the side of the couch, the other foot dangling off the arm. He was shirtless and gorgeous, a thin sheet tangled around his legs, and when I heard him and Mason up and about before the ass crack of dawn to make it to practice, I felt like a total bitch for not insisting Chris take the bed.
I have a plan for tonight, though. I’m going to claim the couch before he has a chance. Then he’ll be forced to get a good night’s sleep in his actual bed.
The French doors to the back of the house open and Mia steps onto the patio. She squeals when she sees me. “Grace! You came!” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I let out a little squeak of surprise and pat her shoulder in an awkward attempt to return her hug. I’m not used to this.
It isn’t that I’m not an affectionate person, but I’ve never been the type to hug strangers. But Mia and Bailey seem to have decided that I’m not a stranger—or that I’m not going to be for long.
Willow and I are close, but she’s the shining exception to all of my experiences with female friendships. When Dad moved back to Champagne last summer, I got a job at Common Grind to save some money for my first semester at college. She trained me to use the register and somehow knew we were kindred spirits. She befriended me, but it took me a while to trust her.
I’ve never done very well with other girls. It’s not that I don’t like being around them or any misogynistic bullshit like that. It’s just that sometimes it feels like I don’t know how to speak their language.
But Mia and Bailey make it easy because it doesn’t feel like they expect anything from me or as if they’re waiting for me to embarrass them. They just decided I was part of their group, and therefore I am.
“Are you going to swim?” Mia asks.
Everyone else is in their swimsuits and either on rafts in the pool or on lounge chairs around it. There’s a fire pit in the lawn behind the pool, and Chris, Sebastian, and a couple of guys I don’t recognize keep feeding wood into the fire as if it isn’t ninety degrees out here.
I should probably take off my cover-up and get out of the shadows. It’s silly. I’ve never been uncomfortable about showing my body, but because of where I am and who’s around, I’m uncharacteristically self-conscious.
“Come on,” Mia says. “Nobody bites. Do you want a drink? Bailey made some sangria.”
“Um . . .” I remember Chris telling me he’d like me to avoid anything illegal, and nod. I might joke about him being my babysitter, but I don’t intend to let him be the boss of me this summer. “I’d love a drink.”
“Coming right up.” Mia gives me a big smile. “I’ll be right back.”
When she disappears into the house again, I peel off my sundress and tuck it into my bag, then make my way to an empty lounge chair under a big red sun umbrella. My skin isn’t just pale, it’s damn near translucent, and I don’t tan—I burn bright red if I lie in the sun.
“Sangria for my new friend,” Mia says. She hands me the wine glass and lowers her voice. “Careful with that fruit. It’s been soaking in vodka.”
I’ve found my people. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Nice suit,” a deep voice says.
I turn to see a big guy lowering himself into the lounge chair next to mine. He sits sideways, facing me, and shamelessly skims his gaze from my chest to my bikini bottoms.
As far as bikinis go, this one isn’t overly revealing. It’s a retro thing with a high waist and white polka dots. I have a thing for polka dots.
“Thanks.” I’m gonna need this sangria. I don’t like to get drunk in big groups like this, but a little buzz is a social crutch I’m not ashamed to lean on. I slide my sunglasses on to cover my eyes.
He extends a hand. “I’m Keegan.”
I shake it briefly. “Grace.”
Keegan’s broad-shouldered, with muscular arms and a barrel of a chest. He’s not anything close to “fat,” but he’s the biggest guy here. He’s got dark hair, a shadow of a beard, and a cute smile, the kind that says he’s had a lifetime of using his charm to get away with whatever he wanted. “You’re the stepsister?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. It’s weird that all these people knew about me before I knew about them. Knowing Chris, he probably prepared them for my arrival and told them all that they had to be nice. Built-in friends. Damn it. I kind of hate that. Everyone’s been so kind, and it would be wonderful to think they liked me and not that they felt obligated. “Did Chris tell everyone about me?”
“Sure,” Keegan says, “but he did not tell me how hot you are.”
I roll my eyes. “Do guys usually talk about how hot their sisters are?”
He chuckles. “Good point. But still, I wish I’d been prepared and brought a respirator.”
“Say what?”
“A respirator?” He settles his elbows on his knees and leans toward me. “Because, baby, you steal my breath.”
I snort. “God, that’s a terrible line.”
“Made you laugh,” he says, shrugging. “So where do you go to school?”
“Carson College in New York City.” It’s a small liberal arts college that won my affection because of its writing program—that and the fact that it’s located in my favorite city in the world.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Prob
ably because they don’t have a football team.”
“Touché.” He chuckles. “So you’re a city girl. That’s nice.”
Someone clears his throat behind us, and I turn to see Chris scowling at Keegan. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Just getting to know your sister. Is that a problem?”
“Off. Limits,” Chris says, and I feel an unwelcome and not-so-little flutter low in my belly at his no-nonsense tone.
“Maybe for you,” Keegan says.
“For you.” Chris’s jaw hardens. Is that look in his eyes jealousy, or is he just warning Keegan off because he thinks it’s his job as the protective brother? He seems to have taken to that role quite well, which could make for a really boring summer.
Sebastian walks by, wet swim trunks slung low on his hips, and picks up on the conversation. “Leave the stepsister alone.” He smacks Keegan’s shoulder as he passes. “There’s a code, man.”
Keegan watches as Sebastian disappears into the house then turns an arched brow on Chris. “I’m thinking you’re the last person who should be lecturing me about sisters being off-limits,” Keegan says, not budging.
Chris doesn’t flinch or swing or call Keegan a jackass—and considering the conversation I heard last night, any and all of those reactions would be appropriate. He simply sets his jaw, closes his eyes, and exhales slowly. I’m beginning to understand what the girls mean when they say he doesn’t get frazzled.
“It’s fine, Chris,” I say. Grinning, I nudge his leg with my elbow, trying to get him to relax. “Keegan’s just talking to me. I promise I’ll get your approval before we run off to elope.”
Chris shifts uncomfortably.
“Stop acting like my guard dog,” I say. “We’re talking.”
“Right.” He swallows hard and gives Keegan a hard scowl before walking away.
“Well, that’s interesting,” Keegan says.
