Sophie sighed, turning to her mother and stepfather. “So...that's Logan,” she announced, for want of anything better to say.
“Yes,” her mother nodded. “It sure is.”
“I thought he'd be...” she shrugged.
“Different?” suggested her mother, while Harry turned his narrowed gaze upon her.
“Ruder.” By all she'd heard, he seemed like such an asshole that she half expected him to arrive in leathers and boots, sporting piercings and tattoos. But so far, he seemed pretty normal to her.
“Why did you think he'd be rude, honey?” Her mother frowned at her, still holding Harry's hand.
Sophie shrugged again, one shoulder lifting in an admission of ignorance. “I just thought he would be, that's all.” She ignored the little flip in her tummy that said she liked him just fine the way he was and offered them both a smile. “My food's getting cold,” she whispered lamely. “I ordered the chicken.”
“Alright sweetie, go eat.” Her mother drifted away, pulling her husband after her. Harry still stared at Sophie as if he'd missed a trick or two and was scrambling to catch up. After a moment, he directed his gaze towards the door Logan had disappeared through.
So, that's my brother, she thought. Did he have to be so hot?
~
Logan
Drawing harshly on a cigarette, Logan paced up and down outside the converted barn, his shoes scuffing the pebbles lining the drive. He paused to pick at the topiary ball hidden underneath all the fairy lights standing as sentinel.
Figures that the first girl that caught his eye turned out to be his new sister. Shit and double shit. And if he remembered the conversation he'd had with his father about Sophie, she was only sixteen, too. Triple shit. Not that he could have done anything about it, no matter how old she was – she was still his sister. Stepsister, his subconscious told him. Didn't matter.
He pulled his phone out to call his mother like he'd said he would, but hesitated. Quickly dialing his best friend, Janet – who he'd met in kindergarten and promptly formed a life-long friendship with because she liked to wear dungarees and play with trucks, rather than the normal frou-frou and dollies – he took a deep breath.
“Hey handsome,” she breathed into the phone. “Missing me yet?”
“Always, Jan,” he told her with a snort. Janet was the only girl he'd ever met who had no confidence issues in the slightest, working her curves like a pro, even though common opinion told her she had to lose weight. He loved her for it.
“So what's up? What are the 'rents like?”
“Despicable,” he lied.
“Really?”
“Nah, they're okay, I guess. The old man is still the same ole, same ole. His wife is the typical trophy and the daughter...” he hesitated.
“What about the daughter?” Janet asked in amused tones.
Logan sat on a small wooden bench off the side of the door. “She's alright.”
“Oh, my God!” The squeal was supersonic, making his eardrums vibrate. He held the phone away from his face and glared at it.
“Please don't do that,” he told her, still holding the phone away.
“Sorry!” she squealed. “Sorry.” It was a more normal volume this time. “It's just...”
“What?” he snapped, knowing she could see right through him, even on the phone.
“You like her!”
“Of course I like her, she's my new stepsister.” Even he caught the tone of disgust at the end of his statement.
“No, Logan. You like her, like her! Omigosh! What are you going to do, you sick puppy?”
Was he a sick puppy? He hadn't known who she was when he'd met her. He hadn't had a chance to prime his reactions to her. To set in motion those brotherly feelings he was supposed to have. But then again, he was an eighteen year old guy, with the sex-drive to match, and he'd probably have found a nun appealing since he hadn't had a girlfriend in months. No, he decided, he wasn't sick, he was just horny. As soon as he sorted that out, things would progress more smoothly with his new relations.
“I'm going to get laid,” he told Janet.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He could practically see her wide, shocked eyes. “You're going to lay your new sister? Just like that? Isn't she like, sixteen or something?” She paused. “I'm not sure I want to be friends with you anymore.”
“Janet stop, for the love of God. No. I'm not going to lay my new sister. Jesus.” He expelled a harsh breath. “And as for not wanting to be my friend anymore? You could no more stop being my friend than you could stop being female.”
“There's an operation for that, you know?”
“For not being my friend? Jeez, it must be a common complaint.”
“No silly,” she giggled. “For changing my gender. So you see, I could stop being your friend if I really wanted to.”
“Ah,” he sighed into the phone. “But you don't want to, do you?”
A heartbeat of a pause, during which he considered hanging up. “No. You're like my own personal confessional,” she admitted. “I could never stop talking to you.”
“You could never stop talking full stop, Janet.”
“Oh hush. Tell me everything.”
He knew exactly what she wanted to know, and refused to tell her. “I'm not giving you details until you get your mind out of the gutter,” he informed her sternly. “Do you hear me? Stop thinking dirty thoughts.”
“But they're the most fun ones.”
“I know,” he sighed. “Okay, I need to go.”
“Aww, really? But you've only just called!”
“Yeah but some of us have a family function to attend. I can't spend all night out here on the phone to you.”
“You mean you can't spend all night hiding from that hot sister of yours, haha. Go, Logan. Go forth and get laid. Hell, it might even take that stick out of your ass.” She cackled like a hag and hung up on him. What a bitch. If he didn't love her so much he'd hate her for throwing the truth in his face.
“Was that your girlfriend?”
Speaking of sisters, she was currently propping up the door frame, one slender ankle crossed over the other, goosebumps decorating her arms. Deciding whether or not to tell the truth, he came to the conclusion that his having a fictitious girlfriend would go a long way in helping him stay the hell away from Sophie. “That was Janet,” he told her with a nod. Not exactly a lie, but enough of an omission that she could draw her own conclusions.
She nodded once, the loose curls bobbing about her face. “Do you love her?”
“I do,” he admitted, watching her flinch. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing.”
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm them and smiled at him. “I wondered where you'd got to. Dinner is getting cold.”
He'd completely forgotten about the dinner, sitting there with his phone in his hands and his mind on his sister. The thought of shoveling roast beef into his mouth just now turned his stomach. “I'm not hungry.”
“Me either. The chicken is dry.” She shrugged one shoulder, jiggling a breast and Logan found himself stuck to the bench, lest she see exactly what he was hungry for. Damn it, he couldn't walk around like this. What sort of pervert was he that he couldn't control himself next to his sixteen year old sister? Stepsister, his subconscious once again trilled. “I'm just gonna chill here for a bit,” he told her.
Taking the hint, she uncrossed her ankles and smiled, turning to head back in. “I'll see you a bit later.”
He nodded, unwilling to reply to the hopeful tone of her voice. Seeing her later would be a mistake. One he could ill-afford. His entire future was on the line here. He'd turned down placements in several colleges closer to home, in the hopes of getting in to the university here – the courses on architecture and design here were so much more expanded than anywhere else – and his father had offered to pay his tuition, which he couldn't have afforded on his own without juggling a couple of part-time jobs on the sid
e. Time that he could have spent studying.
When Harry had left, he'd taken every penny with him, leaving his mom to rely on family and friends until she'd gotten on her own two feet. He didn't think he'd ever forgive his father for that, and if paying Logan's college fees put him even a little bit out, Logan was only too delighted.
By the time he felt more or less in control of his body, the dinner was over, the speeches had been made and the cake was in the process of being cut. Logan snorted at the picture Harry and Marie made as they teased each other with frosting-covered fingers, Marie scored a direct hit, landing a blob of white icing on his father's nose. Harry laughed delightedly and kissed his new bride, smearing the stuff all over her cheeks. She used a napkin to wipe it off, her eyes glowing with...dare he say it? Love.
“They look good together, don't they?”
It was Sophie again, and someone had let her have another glass or two of champagne – she was weaving on her feet, her words slightly slurred.
“How much have you had to drink? And who is the moron serving you?” She was much too young for alcohol, and the fact that some idiot in here kept serving her drinks was infuriating.
“Taylor,” she gestured with her glass, sloshing some over the side with a small giggle. “I know him from school, though he's never been so nice to me before tonight.” She gazed at him in drunken speculation.
The hell? “Give me that.” He snatched the glass from her fingers, depositing the liquid into a conveniently placed potted plant.
“Hey!” She tried to grab the glass and ended up falling over that damn dress again, landing in an awkward slouch against his chest. His heart beat faster at her proximity. He told it roughly to stop being such a perv, and grasped her by the upper arms. “Someone needs to take you home.”
“Everybody's too wasted,” she replied. “I can walk.”
“Can you?” he asked with a raised brow as she swayed from left to right. “I don't think so.”
“So be a good brother and bring me to bed.”
“What?” His pants were starting to feel a bit tight, and he viciously reprimanded himself.
She snorted, her nose wrinkling in shocked merriment. “You know what I mean. Take me home. I don't feel very well.”
~
Sophie
The warmth and well-being that had surrounded her like a favorite blanket had suddenly evaporated, leaving her feeling quite green around the gills. Maybe her mother had the right of it all along when she'd hissed at her to stop sneaking champagne. But it was a celebration. A glorious wedding. And she was just trying to enjoy herself like everyone else.
Taylor had been surreptitiously topping up her glass for the past hour, and she'd lost count of the times she'd drained it completely. The last time, he'd even told her how pretty she looked, and said that he'd see her in school. Maybe she wasn't going to be sweet sixteen and never been kissed anymore. She found the thought exhilarating. But when she imagined who her first kiss would be, there was now only one face swimming in the forefront of her mind. Logan's. Oh, dear. She really had to go home, before she did something she'd regret.
“I can see that you don't feel very well,” he admitted now, dragging his eyes up and down her body, to rest on her face. There seemed to be more than one of him, and she took a wild guess by concentrating on the middle one. “Take me home.”
He groaned. No doubt he'd wanted to stay and enjoy the party himself, but there really wasn't anyone else to take her. She would go alone rather than ask her mom or Harry to leave their own party, and Marla had long since paired off with some younger man in a dark corner, where their heads were literally glued together in conversation. She would get no help from that quarter.
“Please,” she begged. “If my mom sees me like this she'll have a fit.”
He sighed, seeming to measure his thoughts before finally lifting a shoulder in a signal of defeat. “I'll go tell Harry and your mom that we're leaving.”
“No!,” she clutched at his forearm. “Don't tell them I'm drunk.”
“Drunk?” he laughed. “You're wasted. Fine. I'll tell them the escargot didn't agree with you and you're not feeling well. Okay?”
“Okay.” She let him go, thinking again about her mortifying snail debacle. If she'd known then what she knew now, she might have laughed it off. At the time, it had seemed like the most embarrassing thing she'd ever done. Of course, falling over her dress in her escape was in competition for the top spot.
She watched him approach his dad, his posture stiff, and frowned in confusion as Harry's face turned mean before he pointed a finger right in Logan's face, mouthing something. Logan shook his head, his dark hair shining in the twinkling lights. More finger pointing from Harry, and finally, a slow nod of Logan's head. He turned away from his father with a bitter twist on his lips.
His perfectly kissable lips, she thought before snapping out of it. She really had to stop thinking about him like this. It was embarrassing all over again.
Chapter Three
“Ready?” he asked gruffly, taking her arm in a tight grip.
“Ow!”
He immediately loosened his fingers. “Sorry. Let's go.”
“What is up with you and your dad?” She swung her head in his direction, trying to see through his set expression.
“There's nothing up with me and Harry.” He helped her traverse the gravel filled driveway in her heels, clicking his tongue every so often when her ankle would twist and he'd have to grab at her to make sure she stayed upright. “What made you think it was such a good idea to drink so much champagne?”
“It seemed like – hic – a good idea – hic – at the time.”
He took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, pulling her closer to stop the shivering that had set in. “You know that guy only wants to get into your pants, don't you?”
She laughed, a heaving hiccup-infused whoop of laughter. “That's the first brotherly thing you've – hic – said to me all night!”
He swooped into a low bow. “I aim to please.”
“Well in that case, it would please – hic – me very much to sleep this booze off.”
“Come on,” he told her, once more wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her warm and upright. “Where do you live, by the way?”
“Oh, that's right!” she exclaimed. “You haven't been to the house yet. Your room is all ready and everything.” She was very proud of that fact. “Complete – hic – with a study desk and lamp. You don't have to stay at the hotel, you know. You never did.” Her mom had done a great job getting his room ready for him – using Sophie's design ideas, naturally – even though they'd hardly see him when college started next week.
“I know,” he replied, slowly. He seemed to be avoiding the topic of his moving in.
“So that's settled then.” She hiccuped again. “You'll stay at the house tonight and fetch the rest of your stuff from the hotel in the morning.”
“I don't think so.”
“What if I vomit in my sleep? Who'll be there to save me? You're supposed to be my new brother,” she told him, smirking. “You're not doing such a good job, are you? Already abandoning me to death by vomit.” She tried to laugh, but the hiccups came back with a vengeance, and she blew her cheeks out in an expression of queasiness.
“I'll stay, then.”
She swayed along the pavement. “Good. This way.” The house wasn't too far ahead, and she felt guilty for taking him from the party. “If you want to go back it's okay. I'll be fine. I doubt I'll die in my sleep.”
He laughed, the sound setting her nerves on edge. It was a deep, rough, masculine laugh, that pulled at things she didn't understand, low in her belly. “I'll stay,” he repeated. “It's getting late anyway, and I have orientation in the afternoon.”
“Oh,” the disappointment she felt surprised her. What was it about this guy? “I didn't think you started until next week.”
“I don't. But the student council has
arranged for a tour of campus and all the buildings especially for students new to the area. I can't pass that up.”
With a wild and panicked shriek, she stumbled over a crack in the pavement, flopping into a bush headfirst, her dress flying over her head in the process. “Oh sweet God,” she groaned. “I cannot catch a – hic – break.” Thank God she was wearing full panties and not a thong as she sometimes thought about wearing.
Logan's riotous laughter echoed through the deserted street as he helped her into a standing position. “Talk about falling head over heels,” he joked, the amusement in his voice bringing the flames of mortification to her cheeks anew. “Come on, greedy. Let's get you home.”
She had rather over-indulged, hadn't she? With a small nod and a wobbly gait, she clutched his arm and allowed him to lead her home, where she fell into bed with an awkward goodnight of some description.
Sleep was a long time coming, and his laughter chased her into dreams. She was pretty sure she'd called him hot-boy by mistake, too. Crap.
~
“Oh, my God. My head feels like it's gonna explode.” The smell of fresh coffee brought her down the stairs the next morning, but the smell of cooked bacon made her hesitate on the threshold of the kitchen.
Her mom gave her a stern look. “You deserve every miserable moment, Sophie Ellis.”
“Mo-om.” Why couldn't she be loving and gentle in her daughter's time of need, rather than irritated, vengeful and slightly amused?
“That's what you get for sneaking more champagne than was good for you. I did warn you.”
“Really? 'I told you so' is all I'm getting from this?” With a groan, she folded her arms on the island and bent over to rest her head. “No sympathy at all?”
“Nope. I did tell you so. And you didn't listen. So enjoy your first hangover, sweetie, and let's hope it encourages you to be a non-drinker. In fact, I could think of worse things than you being tee-total from here on in.” Her mom flipped the bacon and sipped from her coffee cup.
Stepbrother, Mine Page 3
