Stepbrother, Mine

by Mandy Lou Dowson

  “Bullshit,” he denied, vehemence turning his voice to molten fire. “You can always call me. You should always call me.” He paused, sighing, the sound blocking out her mom's frenzied breaths. “You should have always called me.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry I hurt you.”

  “Hey now,” he laughed. “You need to tell me this again tomorrow in case I forget.”

  She laughed. He usually forgot the smaller details of their nighttime conversations. “I might not feel like saying it tomorrow.”

  “Well let's hope I don't forget then.”

  She could hear the grin in his voice, and felt her lips crack a smile. She released the sheets from her death-grip and passed the back of her hand across her wet face, erasing the evidence of her tears, already feeling calmer, less manic. “I should let you get back to sleep...”

  “Are you alright, Soph?”

  No, she wasn't alright at all. She hadn't forgotten the way he'd called her 'baby' – twice – during the call and wanted to ask him to say it again. She most definitely was not okay. “I'm fine.”

  “No, you're not.”

  “I am, really. It's just...it was bad this time, you know?”

  “I know,” he sighed, and she knew he told the truth. He'd been there for so many of her breakdowns that it was a wonder he hadn't started calling himself Triple A. “You need me to come over? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “No.” If he came over, they'd end up in bed together – and not in the platonic sort of way they always had before. This time it would be purely physical and she couldn't do that to him. Not when last time had cost them each other. Her body warred with her judgment, begging for Logan's, but she viciously denied it. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't smart. Friendship was the best they could hope for. She just hoped it was enough, for both their sakes.

  “Alright,” he whispered, his voice causing her stomach to turn over and desire to send electric shocks straight to her sweet spot. “I'm here if you want me.”

  Now why did that sound more physical than platonic to her ears? She guessed it was just her libido making her hear undertones he hadn't implied. Liquid dampened her satin panties as her mind conjured up the remembered feel of his fingers working insider her just two days ago. Or the feel of the solid door against her back as he'd fucked her against it. I want you, she thought. I always wanted you. Clamping her mouth shut on the words, she lay back down. “Logan?”

  “Mmm?” Sleepiness had taken over, his voice thick and slurred.

  “Stay with me while I fall asleep?”

  “Always.”

  ~

  Logan

  Since Sophie's call, Logan had been doing his best to check in with her every day, even it was only to say hi. Trying to remain friendly while his body wanted nothing more than to cover her and enter her and take her, was torture. But he'd come to the realization that friendship was better than nothing, and certainly better than the fucked up sex-for-contract plan he'd cooked up in his state of anger. He felt sorrier for that whole thing than he could say. But she never brought it up, and he didn't want to rock the boat. So, both of them tactfully ignoring it, they plodded along.

  She'd started work the previous Monday and he found himself amazed at her vision and passion for color and design. When he'd perused the plans, tweaking them a bit to accommodate her archway, you'd think he'd captured the moon and handed it to her. She'd thrown her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her for a moment, whispering “thank you, thank you” the whole time.

  He still hadn't recovered from her proximity when she grasped his arm, painting him a visual with her descriptions of this and that. He was only slightly ashamed of the fact that he barely remembered them, so wrapped up in her scent, the feel of her body against his.

  He looked at her now, desperately attempting to seem casual. She held a paintbrush in one hand, and a color chart in the other, swiping testers across the wall to see which exact shade of off-white suited it best. If she'd asked him, he could have told her they were all the same, but then she'd have smacked him. She had never looked more content. “Stop staring,” she called over her shoulder. “I know you think they're all the same but they're not. This one for instance, makes the entire space feel cold because there's too much blue in the shadow. But this one, has hints of gold and gray, making it perfect for a huge mahogany check-in desk.”

  She smiled proudly, pointing to each shade in turn. He nodded thoughtfully, unwilling to admit they still looked the damn same to him. Her head bobbed as she looked at the rest of the testers decorating the wall. “I assume Paul still wants to go for the that old-world-chic style we talked about?”

  He nodded, feeling overwhelmed. Old-world-chic. What in the name of God was that? Who was this girl? She certainly wasn't the same shy thing he'd met when he was eighteen and she sixteen. She wasn't even the same woman who'd run out on him, unsure of herself or her future. This was Sophie three-point-oh. She'd planned her future and was living it right now. “He said something about mahogany, yeah.”

  She laughed, screwing the lid back on the tester pot. “Jake!” she called, throwing the tester at him. “Can you please find Marcus and ask him to order me ten, Soft Chamois?” She looked back at him, her face bright with happiness. It made him glad he'd abandoned his crazy idea to extort sexual favors from her. But thinking about Sophie and the sexual favors his body still craved, he felt himself harden, his gaze burning into hers.

  ~

  Sophie

  Logan had that look. The one that said, 'I want you, in every position'. She had to look away. Her heart pounding, and feeling like she needed to cross her legs, she strode from the foyer in search of Alex, who was busy planning the floors that would house guests.

  “Moron!” Alex snapped, snatching the roll of floral patterned paper from some guy's hand. They'd had to hire a lot of extra tradesmen for this contract, and more often than not, Alex lost the plot with them. “I don't want to see any of these rolls without their protective sleeves. Do you even understand how much these cost per roll? Do you?”

  Muttering under his breath, the guy apologized and covered the roll with a discarded piece of plastic sheeting. Sophie felt like intervening, but she knew Alex was right. Those were damn expensive rolls and if they weren't careful with their stock, their budget would expand so much they'd be lucky to break even.

  “Start with the ceiling,” she suggested to someone else. “It's much easier to cut in around a wall than it is a ceiling. And be careful of the floor.” She tucked in a bit of sheeting that had come loose from the floor, showing a peek at the deep russet carpet beneath. She caught Sophie's amused smirk. “Where did we find these people? Craigslist?”

  “Actually...” Sophie snickered.

  “Oh, tell me you didn't, Sophie!”

  “You said we needed a workforce, fast,” she reminded her, nudging her as they strode out of the room. “I had limited time.”

  “Next time, I'll do the hiring,” she muttered, making her way to the next room, Sophie tagging along behind her. “Aren't you supposed to be directing downstairs?”

  She was in fact in charge of the foyer, the restaurant, the spa, pool, boutique and kitchen, but wherever she went, Logan was there, making her feel things she'd rather not feel. “I wanted to check on the furniture order,” she lied. “Are we still on for Friday week?”

  “Mmm, yes,” she murmured, kicking aside an empty paint tray. “Idiots. Sophie, I hate to say it, but if these guys need instructions the whole way, our furniture will arrive before we're done.”

  “Not going to happen,” Sophie replied. “I've come up with an ingenious plan.”

  “Oh, do enlighten me, intelligent one.” Alexis stopped, turning around with an open expression. “We're going to fire them all and find ourselves some proper decorators?”

  “No,” she laughed. We have nine permanent staff, right?”

  “Yes...”

  “Well, we also happen to
have nine floors to this hotel.”

  “I see.”

  “It's genius, admit it.”

  “Well it certainly beats the hell out of me running up and down the stairs trying to organize them all.”

  “Exactly. We'll make them mini-project managers, and with the added incentive of a bonus for staying on track, we'll be done before you know it.”

  “I never agreed to a bonus.”

  “Alex, don't be so mean.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “A small bonus.”

  “A small one,” she agreed, feeling giddy. They were really doing this. They had free reign – within reason – to decorate an entire hotel, and Sophie was determined that this was the job that would make their name.

  Chapter Nine

  August 2014

  Logan

  The days flew, his time with Sophie more limited with every setting sun. As soon as the job ended – in two days – he was going home to the coast, and Sophie would remain in the city. They would keep in touch via phone calls, texts, and recently, email, but it wouldn't be the same. He felt his heart give a little start when his phone buzzed.

  All set for the opening?

  As set as can be.

  Paul had had trouble with one of the bands he'd hired, but luckily, with a concerted effort, they'd managed to find a replacement in time – a big band Alexis had mentioned in passing, that happened to have no gigs on the night of the opening. Praise God. It was a stroke of luck that they played the type of music that fit the hotel's era, concentrating on swing and jazz. They would play throughout the grand opening and cocktail hour, and then their secondary band – Underground Scorpio – would take over. They mainly concentrated on covers of all major hits from the 50s onwards.

  As they were touring the coast at the time, Logan had checked them out personally and found them amazing. They could perform a mean Elvis before swinging straight into a rendition of Bon Jovi's famous Livin' on a Prayer without missing a beat. He'd only been sorry that he'd not been able to invite Sophie along, since they hadn't even reconnected at the time.

  Their relationship, while somewhat stagnant, being as they were only friends and nothing more, was slowly repairing itself.

  What r u wearing?

  He waited for her usual Chanel response and was more than a little disappointed when she misinterpreted his question.

  A dress, silly.

  Then again, the images he could bring to mind of her, mind-blowing in some short cocktail dress brought a glow of arousal to his entire body, so perhaps it was a good thing she hadn't answered with the usual, Chanel, after all. They seemed to be going in reverse, from lovers – even if she had been coerced – to friends, to siblings again, and he found that he didn't like it. Not one bit. But what could he do?

  Are you bringing a date?

  Her question surprised him. He hadn't really thought of it until now, and chasing up a date last minute was not on his agenda.

  Maybe. U?

  Yes. U remember Dale?

  Him? She was bringing him? He hadn't even known she'd taken his number that night. With a curl of his lip, he re-read the text. Dale. Fucking blond and muscle-bound Dale. So she really was interested in him, then. The thought made his inner caveman growl in rage. Why him?

  Well he'd be damned if he was going to show up alone while she paraded the guy in front of his very eyes. Not a chance.

  Who is Alex bringing?

  As far as I'm aware, she's going stag.

  Can I have her number?

  ~

  Sophie

  She glared at her screen. He wanted to bring Alex? Really? She didn't even realize Alexis was his type. Sure, she was gorgeous and had a body that wouldn't quit. She was smart and sassy and just as full of repressed sexual energy as Logan and shit, he wanted to take her? Why her?

  Sending Alex a quick text to ask if Logan could have her number was the most difficult thing she'd done all year. Her stepbrother. Her friend. Her...lover. He was hers, wasn't he? He always had been hers. At least, he had been until recently. When Alex responded in typical Alex fashion, she knew she was in trouble by the way her heart plummeted inside her. It read:

  Yes! OmyfuckingGod yes give it to him.

  She decided to have a shower and get ready for bed before sending Alexis' number to Logan – maybe by then he'd have fallen asleep and wouldn't bother asking her. Yeah, a small voice inside her whispered. That's not gonna happen. If you wanted to go with him, you should have said. But how could she? It wasn't like their relationship was even remotely sexual anymore. They had both silently agreed to keep it platonic.

  That was the whole reason she'd asked Dale to the opening of the hotel – to keep her occupied and her hands off Logan. He would be going home the day after and there was no point opening a can of worms neither of them could handle. Making a disgusted sound in her throat, she sent him the damn number, hoping he wouldn't ask her, but knowing he would. She refused to check her phone any more that night, going to bed angry and nervous.

  By the time she woke up the next morning and saw the text waiting for her, she felt like crying.

  Soph, I know things r weird between us right now. I'm sorry for my part in that. If I cud go back in time I wud change it all, believe me. So, I'm gonna say this once, and only once. If u don't want me 2 ask her, tell me now. Otherwise, ignore this text.

  There was a second text. This one sent two hours later, from Alexis.

  Holy shit. Ur brother just asked me out. We're going to the opening together. I may yet find my rebound guy. Hope you don't mind. Kisses.

  Mind? Why would she mind? It was only Logan. Only her stepbrother. Only the guy she'd foolishly fallen in love with. No, she didn't mind at all. She sank onto the end of her bed, pulling her night shirt to her chin. It was the same one Logan had given her when he'd left for the coast, having decided to keep the house on and live in it. The same one she'd worn the last night they'd...the night he'd...

  Shaking her head furiously, blond locks whirling, she threw the shirt across the room where it landed with a soft whisper in the corner. It was stupid and dangerous to keep thinking like this. It was a good thing she hadn't seen Logan's text until this morning, or she might have replied. Might have begged him not to ask Alex. And how selfish was that?

  She couldn't keep holding him back – if he wanted to move on, it was up to her to let him. Even the looks he'd directed towards her the past few days had been nothing more than ordinary. No heat sizzled in his eyes when he turned to her. No passion. No regret. In fact, he'd probably only sent her the text because Alexis was her friend and partner, and Lord knew Logan didn't like to date in his business pool.

  ~

  Logan

  The first thing he did that morning when he reached the hotel was goggle at the finished product in the foyer. Sophie had done an amazing job, the walls in that indiscernible off-white shade, with deep slashes of maroon and olive green in the recessed alcoves, and up above, the domed ceiling was a masterpiece. She'd hired a specialist painter to depict all that was hidden by the solid ceiling, and if he didn't know better he'd swear he was looking straight up at a spiral staircase, to the very heights of the hotel, where it looked like a glass conical window shone rays of the purest golden light, as if snatched from a sunset and splashed across the ceiling.

  “Wow,” he whispered.

  “It's something else isn't it?” Alex asked, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. “You should see the restaurant.”

  He let her lead him through the entire floor, gazing in amazement at Sophie's designs come to life. In the restaurant, the walls were covered with the same off-white paint, with golden rag effect to give it some texture in the more shadowed areas. Screens had been placed just so, to offer diners a more intimate feel and every table was set with gleaming silverware and sparkling wine glasses.

  The spa area was in cool blue and aqua tones, reminiscent of an underwater paradise. She'd lined the long hallway with simple wooden
benches, blending seamlessly with the shining wood floor, between the treatment room doors, upon which rested cushions and candles, lending the area a romantic feel. He could well imagine couples coming here together and exclaiming over the luxury of it all. But again, the ceiling transfixed him. The same specialist painter had painted the curved ceiling and walls to appear as though the person were under water. You know those aquarium tunnels you see sometimes? That. It was exquisite, and so realistic that he had to run his hand along the wall to be sure. “It's fab, isn't it?”

  He just nodded. The kitchen area was less adventurous, sleek stainless steel units and top of the range appliances, but the pool area was something to behold. She'd actually scattered sand all around, and there were wind machines cleverly hidden amongst the potted plants, so that if one closed their eyes, they were at the beach.

  Three wide steps led to a lower level where there was a hot tub bubbling merrily and behind some fern screens were shower stalls to wash off before heading to the lushly appointed changing rooms beyond. He was amazed at her level of creativity, and humbled by her vision. She'd done a superb job. He wished she was here so he could tell her how proud he was, but she'd taken part of the morning off, pleading sickness.

  He was disinclined to believe it – she'd seemed fine the previous evening. Maybe she needed some time to get used to the idea of her friend and her stepbrother officially attending the event together. He found himself hoping that was the case, and then mentally slapped himself for the twisted hope. He was going to lose his damn mind before he went home.