Mistake: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Lauren Landish

  "Most likely from my lawyers," Julian replied. "But who knows?"

  I watched while he finished his workout and pulled his t-shirt back on, then his warm-up jacket. Thankfully, Erica, Dwayne's wife and fashion consultant for Forrester Hotels, had designed a uniform for Julian to wear that was exercise oriented. I kind of regretted him covering up, he was great eye candy. "Might as well see what Williamson signed for," Julian said. "Although I don't expect much. They'd have called me if it was anything important."

  Williamson was in his office, reading his computer screen when Julian knocked. "Hey boss," Julian said, "Krystal said you had something for me?"

  "Yes, here you are," Williamson said. "By the way Mr. Castelbon, I'd appreciate it if you could leave your phone on when you are on the grounds."

  "No offense Mr. Williamson, but it's a safety rule that I plan on enforcing for all of the employees. When you have five hundred pounds on your back, losing your balance because your cell phone goes off is a disaster."

  Williamson pursed his lips, but nodded. "I understand. Can I at least have you promise to do your personal workouts at times that have the least amount of potential problems?"

  "I plan on it. After our honeymoon, I'm lifting at midnight. The only people I'll disturb will be the dishwashers upstairs in the kitchen. Once the baby is born and Krystal goes back to work, I'll lift after she gets off shift in the restaurant."

  "So be it," Williamson said. He handed Julian an envelope, and went back to his screen. "By the way, thank you for the invitation to the ceremony. Also, Mr. and Mrs. Forrester are due to arrive late this evening. They asked if you would be willing to have a late dinner with them. And if I may ask, where are you going on your honeymoon?"

  "We're taking a week in New York City," I told him. "Julian's giving me the gift of going to every three star Michelin restaurant for dinner, and lunch at most of the two star places. As for dinner with Dwayne and Erica, I'd love to. Maybe I can give that kitchen a good test run tonight."

  Williamson nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Very impressive honeymoon, Chef. And anything for you in New York, Mr. Castelbon?"

  Julian nodded. "Just some nice quiet time with the most beautiful woman in the world." He smiled at me, then tore open the envelope, his eyes flickering over the letter. I could see something grow in his eyes, but I couldn't tell what until he held the letter out for me. "I need to call my lawyers about this, they should have called me."

  I took it from his hands and read the paper. It was a form, printed out on a regular printer, and hadn't come from his lawyers at all. It was from DNA Technologies, the laboratory that was handling the genetic test of Gina's baby. There was one line that stood out to me, the only one I cared about.

  Adult Male Subject 1: 0% Match

  I handed the letter back to him, shaking my head. "Who cares? The information is what's important. Call your lawyers later. Let's go."

  That evening, after dinner and a long, wonderful lovemaking session, Julian and I lay in bed, the last night we'd do so as single people. "Hey, I had a question," I asked him after my heart finally stopped racing.

  "No, I don't regret not going out for a bachelor party, dinner with Dwayne and Erica was perfect as it was," Julian replied. "Anything else?"

  I laughed. "Actually, I think Yuki is more disappointed that she didn't get to give me a bachelorette party. Boy is she going to be surprised when we ask her to be the baby's godmother. Then she can throw me a shower."

  "There is that," Julian conceded. "But you were going to ask me a question."

  "Yeah," I said, rubbing his chest. "When did you know?"

  "Know what?"

  "Know that you were interested in me not as a sex conquest or some pawn in a stupid, malicious game, but in me?"

  Julian lay there quietly for a moment, and I wasn't sure he was going to answer. "This is going to sound bad," he said, so soft I could barely hear it.

  "I promise Julian, no matter what you say, I'm not going to get angry. You don't even have to tell me if you don't want to."

  Julian shook his head. "No, it's just that it's embarrassing in a way. Obviously, you know when Gina and I had sex."

  "At our parents' reception. Why?"

  "Well, what you may not have noticed is that she and I disappeared from the reception just after the two of us danced. About twenty minutes later, we were naked and in the library, when I looked up as a song hit that struck a nerve in me."

  "Oh?" I said, turning on my side to look at him, curious. "What?"

  "A beautiful angel took the stage away from Meat Loaf and sang the one song I actually loved. I lost myself in her words, and in the fantasy that she could rescue me from the monster I was becoming. It was then, even as my body was with Gina, that my heart and mind started to change."

  I grinned and kissed his cheek. "That's not embarrassing at all."

  "Why not?" Julian said with a half grin. "Don't tell me you were imagining me when you were singing, were you?"

  I grinned, kissed him, and turned over. "Okay, I won't tell you. Besides, we need to get some sleep. We're getting married tomorrow, remember?"

  "Then why sleep now?" Julian asked, nuzzling my neck. "We can sleep in, get married, enjoy the family reception, and then go on our honeymoon. We can sleep on the train ride down."

  I thought about it, then turned and kissed him. "Maybe a little bit of both? I've never made love on a train before."

  Julian kissed me back, his hand caressing my hair, before breaking our kiss to look me in the eyes. "You saved my life, Krystal. You brought me back from the edge of self destruction, and you showed me love. Regardless of what the future may hold, I love you."

  There was nothing else that needed to be said.

  The End…

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  Aaron

  One of the nice things about being on the triathlon team is that Captain White gives us lots of freedom. The first training session of each week is up to us individually, which gives everyone the chance to work on their weakness, while the second one is usually a team effort, at least by regimental parade schedules. Then we can train on our own on Fridays and weekends, which isn't too bad.

  Snapping my helmet on and putting my sunglasses on top of that, I start off, doing an easy ride towards the post gates. It finishes my warmups, and by the time I hit the gates and ride out on Route 9W towards the Bear Mountain Bridge, I'm leaning over my handlebars, cranking. I take the course that lets me avoid most of downtown Highland Falls, the town that exists right outside the main gates, which is just too much a pain in the ass with traffic. Instead, I stick to the less crowded route. Up ahead, I see another bike, and I wonder if another one of my teammates decided to do the same route I did. I doubt it, Captain White's good about saying something if there's a chance of running into someone, just for safety's sake.

  As I get closer, I see that the bike's not one of the Corps' bikes either. We ride Diamondbacks, mainly because they're cheap and long-lasting, according to some of the firsties. Not a bad bike, a hell of a lot better than what I rode back home in Michigan, but then again, I took a while to get used to the racing handlebars too. This person though, they're riding a Specialized rig, a bit more expensive than what the US Army is willing to pay for its triathlete cadets.

  I pull even, and glance over, cracking an easy-going grin. “Hi.”

  The other rider barely glances my way. “Hi.”

  I can tell from the sticker on the seat post that it's a USMA registered bike, whoever it is lives on post, and it's a she. Still, we're both going a good speed, and the words are ripped from our lips nearly as soon as we speak. “Where you headed?” I say loudly.

  “Don't know, just out for fun,” she yells. “You?”

  “Bear Mou
ntain Bridge?” I reply, pointing. “You down for pairing up?”

  “Sure,” she shouts, taking the lead. She's got good form and that Specialized bike is a lot lighter than mine, and she pulls away quickly. Grinning, I click down a gear and pedal, letting myself get into it. The burn starts in my quads and I'm enjoying it, but sadly the Bear Mountain Bridge isn't all that far, only eight miles from Arvin even if I include the long lap around the parade ground, and we're soon watching the bridge approach. In the last quarter mile I pull up next to her and keep pace until we reach the limits of the bridge. Since it's a toll bridge, it's a good place to turn around.

  Instead of turning though, she stops and climbs off her bike. I slow and circle back, and see that she’s checking her rear tire. I stop too and get off my bike, surprised by my concern. “Everything okay?”

  “Just forgot to tighten a thumb-bolt,” she tells me softly. I can’t help but like the tone of her soft voice. It’s like music to my ears, soft and serious, yet still playful. She stands up and grabs a water bottle, pulling off her helmet and sunglasses. “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter, a surge of desire running up from the core of my stomach. I know I've been stuck on a post that is mostly men for a year and some change, and I know that I haven't had a girlfriend since breaking up with Cindy Mandrowitz during the first semester of my plebe year, but holy shit… she's hot. Her light blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, one she'd had tucked in her jacket before, and she's got clear blue eyes that rival the sky above us with its intensity. “You rode like a pro.”

  “Thanks,” she replies, taking a sip of water. Her cheeks seem to redden at my compliment, but I can’t be sure. “Six miles isn't much, but I couldn't ride at all the past three days, so I didn't want to chafe on my seat.”

  “Your backside looks damn fine to me,” I say, unable to stop the words from flying out of my mouth.

  Come on Aaron, I think to myself, even the cheesiest pickup line is better than telling a woman she's got a nice ass even before you know her name.

  “Sorry, my bad. My name's Aaron.”

  “Lindsey,” she says, offering her hand. We shake, and she has a nice grip, not too hard, not too soft. It's strong, but still feminine, and I can feel a twitch in my own tights that has nothing to do with the blood flooding my quads right now. “You do a lot of riding, Aaron?”

  “I try,” I reply, feeling like a total idiot. Smooth Simpson, real smooth. Jesus, you need to get laid.

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  Also by Lauren Landish

  Blitzed: A Secret Baby Romance!

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