“Of course,” he replied, with a shrug to indicate that her question was a silly one. It was, of course. Nirvana was the grandaddy of Grunge. “Later on, they slide into some heavy rock, but we’ll be gone by then.”
“So how was your day?” Logan leaned forward again, and put a hand to her shoulder. “I know I was gone all day, but work is pretty hectic. I’ll try to get a day off soon.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Sophie replied with a smile of her own. “I found your stash of science-fiction. I spent all day on the beach soaking up the sights.”
“Weren't you cold?”
She just shrugged.
“I feel bad,” he began, but she shook her head emphatically.
“Honest, I was okay. I only thought about,” she paused, grinning. “Champagne Chimp, a couple of times and even then,” she went on hurriedly as his face darkened. “It was only to tell myself what a fool I was to ever see anything in him.”
“You’re not a fool,” he growled. “He’s the fool.”
“My brother.” She put a hand to her chest in mock awe. “My hero.”
“Yup.” He grinned, leaning back again as the band came on stage. “That’s me.”
Feeling better that the awkwardness had passed – what had come over her? – she turned in her stool to watch the guys in the band as they took their places. The guy on lead guitar was hot. All flowing blond locks and chiseled abs under a tight black tee shirt. The jukebox cut off as they quickly broke into a rendition of Nirvana’s famous Nevermind, and she had to concede Logan had been right – these guys were great.
An hour later, the band took a break, and Sophie excused herself to use the bathroom. She had just locked the door to her cubicle when the door banged open and a group of giggling girls entered.
“But did you see Logan in there?” one of them asked in hushed tones.
“How could you not see Logan in there?” another countered, her simpering voice seeming to echo around the small room. “I gave him my number earlier,” she admitted, starting off another round of giggles.
“But he had a date,” the first girl shrieked in delight. “You’re such a ho.”
The sound of one hitting the other playfully came through the door, and Sophie’s cheeks burned. They thought she was his date. She wondered if she was cramping his style. What twenty seven year old single guy wanted to take his sister out? She sighed, flushing and decided that she couldn’t hide in here while the girls re-did their make-up all night. Putting on a neutral expression, she opened the cubicle door and stepped out, into a group of blonds and a cloud of perfume. “He’s not my date,” she stated to their general open-mouthed expressions. “He’s my brother.”
~
The doorbell echoed throughout the beach house as Sophie climbed out of the shower. She'd spent the day cleaning Logan's place from top to bottom, bored and with nothing better to do. She could hear Logan's voice as he pulled the door open. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I need to see her,” came the hesitant reply.
Sophie felt her body tense up as she wrapped a towel around her hair. He was the last person she wanted to see. Throwing on Logan's borrowed terry robe and cinching it tightly at the waist, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and joined the pair at the door just as Logan growled, “she doesn't want to see you.”
“Logan.” She put a hand on his bicep, which was vibrating with anger. “It's okay.”
He looked at her as if she were crazy, which she supposed she must be to even contemplate giving Taylor the time of day. “If you say so.”
Turning her head and planting her gaze firmly on Taylor's guilty face, she lifted her chin. He looked well. He certainly didn't appear as if he'd lost any sleep. She wanted to smack his face for having the cheek to turn up here. “What do you want, Taylor?”
“Look,” he replied, shuffling his feet. His hands were buried in the pockets of his cream slacks and a blush spread across his face as he raked her with his gaze. “I want to apologize,” he continued. “Things weren't what they seemed.”
She laughed, amusement in her tone as she whispered, “oh really? So you weren't fucking some slut in the shower? I imagined it, I suppose?”
Logan tensed beside her, his bicep where she still rested her fingers flexing. She ignored the imp inside her mind that said to let Logan deal with her ex; that was cowardly.
“Soph,” he pleaded, his knuckles bleaching white where he gripped the door. His other hand was planted solidly against the wall, effectively framing Sophie as she stood facing her ex.
With a quick squeeze of his arm, she stepped forward. “I have nothing to say to you, Taylor. I don't even care how long it was going on.”
“That was the only time, I swear!”
She could almost pity him, standing there, guilt and regret stamped on his features as he gave Logan a wary look. “I hope you enjoyed it,” she spat, turning away. “I hope it was worth it. Now please, if you're done, I have things to do.”
“Sophie, please listen to me.”
“No!” she whirled on him. “I don't want to hear it. We're done, Taylor. Done. I never want to see your face again.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” he snarled, one side of his mouth curled in disgust. “Back to playing happy families with him,” he thrust his chin in Logan's direction. “I mean look at you. Damn, you're even wearing his robe.”
She glared. “What's that got to do with anything?”
Taylor laughed, the sound like a whip, cracking and cruel. “Maybe you were enjoying a little time in the shower yourselves,” he accused, eyes glued to Logan's hair where it was still damp from his own shower.
She couldn't believe he was standing there accusing her of being with Logan. Taylor, of all people knew how much Logan meant to her. “You're sick,” she flung at him.
“Me? I'm not the one who whispers the name of my stepbrother in my sleep. I'm not the one who can't see exactly what he'd like to do to you. And I'm not the one who has to live with that shame.” His mouth had transformed into a cruel twist. His words were blades that cut deep.
“No,” replied Logan, one hand pressed to her midriff to shove her behind him. “You are the one who's going to get his ass kicked. Right. Now.”
At last realizing the danger he was in, Taylor backed away, scrambling for the keys to his car. “Whatever, I'm out of here. Enjoy your lives together.”
He made it to the door of his car before Logan's large hand descended upon his shoulder, turning him around forcefully. “I didn't say you could go,” Logan whispered.
Sophie trembled in the doorway, her mind a jumble. She tried to think of a reason, any reason for Logan to release Taylor and came up empty. When he was angry, Logan had what she liked to call selective hearing. “Logan!” she called. “Please, he's not worth it. Come back inside.”
He ignored her, his nose a bare inch from Taylor's as he hissed. “You take your ass home and don't ever even think of returning.”
Taylor nodded emphatically as Logan purposefully turned his back on the fight. Sophie relaxed, every tensed up muscle seeming to sigh in relief.
Whether it was sheer stupidity or some dark masochistic tendency, Sophie didn't know, but the second Taylor opened his mouth, she knew there would be no more chances for him. “Why would I return here? Obviously she's moved on.” With a bitter twist to his lips he laughed. “But I'm curious. Did you two fuck as soon as she got here, or did you wait an hour?”
Logan's face turned white in anger, his jaw clenched tight. Sophie stepped forward, one foot on the doorstep as she reached for him. With a grunt, he shrugged her hands away and raced to Taylor who was busy trying to get his keys in the car door. What a fool he was, to think Logan would let that slide.
His fist connected with Taylor's jaw with a resounding meaty thump and she watched in fascination as her ex staggered away with both hands raised. “Hey,” he pleaded. “I didn't mean that. I was...I was angry, man.”
�
��Now I'm angry,” Logan grated, grappling with him. They ended up on the ground, Logan straddling Taylor's chest as he pummeled him. With a gasp, Sophie ran from the doorway and grabbed Logan's arm as it came up to smash him again. “Logan!” she cried. “Please. Stop.”
He glared at her. “You heard the shit he said. Fuck that.” He twisted out of her grip, punching Taylor in the face again. His eyes already swelling, Taylor held both hands up in supplication. “He deserves it.”
“I know,” she whispered close to his ear. “I know he does, but please. Just let him leave. I just want him to leave.”
A growl of frustration tripped from his lips as he stood, his eyes stabbing at the prone figure of her ex. “Get him the fuck into that car before I kill him.”
With an angry snarl he strode into the house as Taylor raised himself from the gravel. “Sophie,” he began but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“Enough. Leave.” She left him still dazed and hurting on the ground and scrambled inside to find Logan pacing in the living room.
“I can't believe you stopped me!” he ground out. “I can't believe I let you. Where is the bastard?”
“He's gone,” she whispered, approaching him carefully. “Logan, the things he said, they were...”
“Sick,” he muttered. “I heard you. I know.” His eyes pinned her in position as she leaned against the wall.
Sophie fidgeted, wondering what she could say that wouldn't further enrage him. “I need a drink. And,” she decided, striding toward the kitchen. “I want to forget he ever existed.”
“Pour me one,” Logan demanded, still full of pent up fury. The sound of an engine revving accompanied the gurgling sound of wine being poured into glasses. “I want to forget how much I'd like to finish what I started.”
Handing him a glass of wine, she raised hers towards him. “To protective brothers,” she announced. “Drink up and I'll bandage your hands.”
He seemed shocked at the bruised and scraped knuckles he was sporting. “To Champagne Chimp,” he grinned. “May his face be deformed.”
They laughed, the tension depleting as they drank. “To forgetting and moving on.”
“That's a toast I can get behind,” Logan grinned. “To alcohol. May it aid in our forgetfulness.”
~
February 2013
The weeks passed, and Sophie found herself getting better and better at forgetting Champagne Chimp ever existed. This was partly due to how busy she was in her job, which she found easier than she'd thought to do on her own in this lovely coastal town – a lot of people wanted their homes redesigned for all the dinner parties and barbeque's they’d be having this summer – and a lot of it was down to how frantic she was becoming to find her own place.
She’d compromised on her city living plan, realizing it wasn’t very compatible with her career for the moment. She had to have an ‘in’ with the city agencies unless she wanted to start her own design business, but to do something like that in the city required a lot more training in business organization than she'd had. She was more of a ‘oh look, this would be pretty if…’ person. So instead of moving to the city, she settled for trawling through various newspapers and letting agencies.
Most of the apartments were quite simply awful, and the rest were too small or too expensive. Logan said she was welcome to stay as long as she needed to, but she knew for a fact that she was putting a damper on his personal life by now. She knew he hadn’t had a woman back since she’d landed on his doorstep in the middle of the night three weeks previous. She also knew he’d been on a date with the bathroom bimbo – as Sophie began referring to her in secret – and could tell by his pained expression lately that if he didn’t get to spend some serious private time with her, he’d explode.
She supposed that was the whole reason she’d agreed when Blaise had asked her out on a date for tonight. That, and his really hot body. He was the lead guitarist in the band Logan had brought her to see – the Somersville Saints. On one particular night last week – the bathroom bimbo had inserted herself into the booth between her and Logan, and Sophie had escaped for some fresh air away from the rising hormones – she’d met him in the shady area underneath the eaves and they’d struck up a conversation.
He wasn’t as bright as she’d thought – and she’d not thought he was too bright to begin with – but he was easy to look at, and God knows after Taylor she needed to feel wanted, so when he’d asked her if she wanted to get together she’d said yes, thinking of Logan and the bathroom bimbo lost in conversation inside. Logan had seemed uncomfortable with her presence at the table when said bimbo placed her hand on his thigh and asked him why he hadn’t called. She’d actually mewled at him, making Sophie feel irritated. When she’d excused herself, Logan seemed to relax a bit, so she’d spent the entire half hour interval between sets talking to Blaise about Nirvana and Pearl Jam. He didn’t know his right from his left, but the boy could play, and he shared her love of Grunge artists.
Slipping her stiletto shoes on, she trotted into the living room and gave Logan a twirl. “What do you think? Does it say 'take me out' or 'bring me home'?”
Logan looked up from his pile of papers with a raised eyebrow and a partially open mouth. “You couldn’t afford the rest of the skirt, huh? I can give you a loan of money if you need, you know.”
“Shut it,” she laughed, tugging on the hemline of her extremely short, extremely tight skirt. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate style.” Twirling again, giving him a second viewing of her outfit, which included a deep purple halter and a pair of killer purple leather stilettos, she asked, “too much?”
“Too little.” He closed his mouth as Sophie laughed again. “And I appreciate style. I really appreciate it. But, you’re my sister and I’m not supposed to appreciate it on you.”
“Oh, whatever.” He was turning into a grumpy old man. Hopefully that would change when she gave him some time alone. “Aren’t you getting ready for your own date?”
~
Logan
Logan frowned, staring at his stepsister in her man-eating outfit. If she only knew how crazy she was making him. “I’m just finishing here.” He had a hot date with Bethany tonight, and damned if he wasn’t going to offload some of this frustration on her. She was just the type he was looking for too – sleazy. The past three weeks had been an exercise in sexual frustration. Every peek at Sophie as she wandered around the house – bra-less for fuck’s sake – in tank tops and sweats, or worse, yoga pants, had sent him running for a cold shower. He was sure she was looking so hard for a place of her own only to escape his heated gaze. Surely she knew.
But she seemed so clueless as to her own appeal, even to him. Especially to him. He felt his face heat as he started to get hard watching her pace up and down the room waiting for the knock on the door. When it finally came, and she grinned like a witch, he felt like opening the door, punching the guitarist and throwing her in his bed. But he just smiled and watched her go.
“I could be late,” she warned with a twinkle in her eye. “Don’t wait up.”
“I won’t,” he replied, pained. How would he feel knowing she was out screwing the damn guitarist? “Shit,” he whispered softly, viciously, as the door closed behind her. He couldn’t do this anymore. The sooner she moved out, the better he would feel. He'd thought spending time with her would decrease his desire for her, and all but held her hostage when she asked if it would be okay to stay a while, but now he just felt tormented. He wished Bethany were here already so he could forget about Sophie and her short skirt.
For another half hour he tried to concentrate on the plans in front of him. The Hudson’s had decided they wanted an annex to the left side of their already sprawling house plans, but it was proving difficult to get the powers that be to agree to it. The planning office was being a total asshole, and if he didn’t get some closure on this job soon, the Hudson’s were liable to try another architect. Not that any other architect would
do them any good – it wasn’t his fault the guys in the planning office were dicks.
Finally giving up, thoughts of Sophie poisoning his mind, he went to take a shower, sure that tonight with Bethany would help him stay cool around Soph until she found her own place. It was all about being satisfied, he told himself, stripping off and stepping into a cool shower. And he was damn sure Bethany was the type to satisfy any man. At least, in bed. He didn’t think he could put up with her past another night or so, and he’d told her he wasn’t in the market for a relationship, but that didn’t seem to deter her in the least. The last time he’d been out with her she’d darn near sucked his tonsils out within ten minutes of meeting her at the bar.
~
Sophie
The date was not going well, at all. Blaise picked her up in a ratty looking car which had definitely seen better days – and lots of action, if the stains she could see on the back seats were any indication. There was also a helpful pair of hand prints on the ceiling, in case she hadn’t drawn enough conclusions. When they’d belted up, he turned to her, his puppy-like enthusiasm winning a couple of brownie points, which he then squandered by asking, “where to?”
“Ehm, anywhere,” she supplied, surprised and disappointed. It had been a few years since she’d been on a first date, but surely the where was already arranged, by at least one of them, before hand.
“I was thinking we could just chill out at the Bunker for a while.” Deciding that his bright baby blues staring at her so innocently were his best redeeming feature, Sophie nodded and agreed.
The ride was bumpy – the death-trap of a car didn’t seem to have any suspension at all – and by the time they’d arrived at the bar five minutes later, her artfully arranged top-knot had denigrated into an abandoned birds’ nest. Rushing to the bathroom, she tried to re-do it as best she could, and came out with a cross between ‘just out of bed’ and ‘dragged through a bush backwards’. Sighing, she slicked on more red lippy and smiled. “It’s just a date, no biggie.” Her reflection agreed.
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