Stepbrother Bastard

by Colleen Masters

  “Goddammit, Cash!” John roars from the kitchen doorway. I spin around to see him towering above us on the patio, fists clenched.

  “Hey Pop,” Cash nods, producing a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.

  “Don’t ‘hey Pop’ me,” John growls, “What the hell did you do to my fucking lawn?”

  Cash glances back at the semicircular skid marks the ATV cut through the grass. “Oh yeah. You’re right,” he says, lighting up a smoke. I try not to fixate on his lips as they cradle his fresh cigarette.

  “Fix it,” John snaps, “And put that fucking thing out. That habit will kill you one day.”

  “What?” Cash replies, feigning amazement, “Smoking is bad for you?!”

  “Maddie,” John says to me, forcing a deep breath into his lungs, “I can’t slug him without having to foot the bill for a decade of therapy. You do it for me, OK?”

  “Little late for that,” Cash mutters under his breath, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

  For a second, John fixes a look of pure rage on his oldest son. My body goes stiff with apprehension, and I halfway expect John to launch himself off the patio and right at Cash’s form. But thankfully, the eldest Hawthorne manages to take a breath, turns on his heel, and marches away. Before I can say another word, Cash hops back on the ATV and races in the other direction, toward the garage—cigarette still held between his lips. I, for my part, stand rooted to the ground, looking plaintively after him as he goes.

  “Well,” I mutter, eyeing the deep tire ruts left in the fresh-cut grass, “It wouldn’t be a Porter family vacation if it wasn’t totally fucked.”

  I spend the rest of the evening intently chopping up vegetables and herbs for dinner, trying my damnedest to get a hold of my runaway mind. Of all the men in the world, I had to have my first one night stand—and best sex of my life, I may add—with the son of my mom’s new “man friend”? What are the chances, even—a bajillion to one? Now, I get to spend the next two weeks under Cash’s withering gaze, pretending it doesn’t hurt like hell that he’s acting like we’re strangers. I know we only got to spend one night together, but he doesn’t feel like a stranger to me. I felt more connected to and engaged with him than I have with anyone in years. That can’t just mean nothing, can it?

  Maybe if I’d just told him all that, instead of leaving him a note like an asshole, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. Of course, there’s the whole weirdness of our parents maybe being an item, but I honestly don’t buy that my mom can stay interested in this new guy for more than a couple weeks. Tops. By the time we’re ready to hit the road, she’ll have moved onto her next flight of fancy. That’s always been her way.

  “Maddie,” my mom trills, lifting a huge tray of baked potatoes from the oven, “Why don’t you go round up the boys? Everything’ll be ready in a sec.”

  I let the kitchen knife go clattering to the floor, looking up at her with startled eyes.

  “Oh. I don’t. I mean—” I stammer, “I don’t really know where they are…”

  “I think they’re down by the lake,” Anna replies, dropping a dozen golden dinner rolls into a basket.

  “What, do you need a chaperone to face the big bad boys?” Sophie teases me, sipping a glass of Merlot at the table, “Come on. I’ll go with you.”

  I give in and trail Sophie out the door. I may as well accept the fact that this week is going to be awkward as hell. No use fighting it.

  “I still haven't met the younger guys,” Sophie says over her shoulder, traipsing down toward the dock in her bare feet. “They’ve been making themselves pretty damn scarce. Not that I have high hopes, having met Cash.”

  “Yeah,” I laugh nervously, crossing my arms, “He seems like kind of a dick, right?”

  “Total dick. Pretty hot though,” she replies casually.

  “S-sorry?” I sputter.

  “What? He is,” she replies, “Did you see those tattoos? And that hair? God lord. It’s like if Jon Snow and Thor had a super sexy, tatted-up love child. Not sure how that would work biologically, but—”

  “I mean, yeah, he’s pretty attractive…” I allow, “But I mean, he’s kind of off-limits, right? All the boys are. What with Mom and John’s history and everything?”

  “Whoa, whoa. I wasn’t planning on jumping him or anything, Maddie,” Sophie laughs, “Unless you think he’d be into it, that is.”

  I bite my tongue, feeling my heart clench painfully in my chest. There’s no denying that Sophie is the real beauty of the family. With her long, wavy hair, big blue eyes, and slender, graceful frame, she’s every bit the conventional knockout. When we were in high school together, I had fellow senior guys asking me to set them up with Sophie, then a freshman. She’s never given her beauty a second thought, or made me feel inferior on purpose, but she’s also never failed to get any guy she wanted. So if she turns her sights on Cash…

  “Christ, Maddie. I’m kidding,” Sophie goes on, as we draw up before the dock.

  “Oh. Right,” I reply flatly. “I knew that.”

  “We need to get you drunk ASAP tonight,” Sophie laughs, “The rat race is turning you into something of a downer, my dear.”

  I put on my best attempt at a casual expression and follow Sophie toward the end of the platform, where a broad shouldered young man I have yet to meet stands looking out across the lake. This must be another of the guys we’re supposed to be rounding up, though the other two Hawthorne brothers are nowhere to be seen.

  “Hey there,” Sophie calls to him.

  But he doesn’t acknowledge the greeting.

  “Maybe he didn’t hear you?” I whisper, stopping short.

  Sophie narrows her eyes at the built young man standing before us and marches on ahead. “Hey,” she says, tapping the guy on his cut shoulder, “What’s up?”

  He shrugs off her hand and raises it in a gesture that clearly says, “Shut up.” Sophie’s face goes red with embarrassment and anger, but it soon becomes clear what he’s focusing so intently on instead of her.

  Straight ahead of us, two svelte bodies churn and chop the water as they race to the dock. Powerful, precise limbs propel them forward toward us. Their pace is matched, and the two are neck and neck as they approach. Sophie and I leap back as they barrel toward the dock, sending a soaking spray of lake water our way. As we look on, Cash and another of his brothers grab hold of the wooden platform and hoist themselves up out of the water, and I for one feel as if I’m being swept away.

  Water courses in rivulets over Cash’s impeccably muscled body, and I can’t tear my gaze away. As he straightens up, I run my eyes along his cut torso, down to where his swim trunks rest dangerously low on his waist. My core twists with longing as he runs a hand through his soaking wet hair, each muscle rippling with the smallest of motions.

  And I’m not the only one staring, either.

  Sophie has gone stock still beside me, her eyes hard and fast not on Cash, but on the brother he emerged from the water beside. The color has gone completely out of her cheeks, and my normally ebullient sister is suddenly silent. What’s that about?

  “Well? Who had the best time, Finn?” Cash demands of the brother we first encountered on the dock.

  “Couldn’t tell, lost count. But it looked like a tie,” Finn replies.

  “No such thing,” scoffs the brother Sophie’s got her eyes trained on. “Do over.”

  “Maybe tomorrow, Luke. If you’re a really good boy,” Cash laughs, reaching for the pack of cigarettes waiting for him on the dock. Turning, he catches sight of Sophie and I…and doesn’t even blink.

  “What’re you, afraid to lose to your little brother?” the other man returns, though he certainly doesn’t look little to me. He’s at least as tall as Cash, though more clean-cut—with only a couple of tattoos and close-cropped dark hair.

  “Nah. We’ve just got guests,” Cash replies, practically spitting the last word as he whips out and lights a cigarette.

  The other two Hawthorn
e brothers look up, as if noticing us for the first time. The one called Luke barely gives me a second glance, but he catches Sophie’s eye at once. A flicker of something like curiosity passes through his deep brown eyes, though it passes soon enough. The third brother, who looks to be the youngest, can’t even be bothered to acknowledge our presence.

  Looks like questionable first impressions run in the family.

  “What can we do for you girls?” Cash asks, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He’s doing a parody of being cordial, and it’s getting on my last nerve.

  “Dinner’s ready,” I inform him, “Mom sent us down to get you.”

  “We don’t really do family dinners around here,” Cash goes on, condescendingly.

  “We’re more of a pizza and beer family, ourselves,” Luke puts in.

  I wait for Sophie to make some kind of snappy comeback, as she always does…but the cat has yet to release her tongue. I draw myself up to my full height—which, granted, isn’t much—and try to sound assertive.

  “Well, we’re not doing things your way tonight,” I tell the trio of strapping young bucks standing before me, “We’ve gone out of our way to make a meal, and you three are going to join us. Sound good?”

  “Christ,” the youngest brother speaks at last, tossing his sweep of ash brown hair away from his eyes, “I didn’t know we were gonna get the full June Cleaver treatment.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Finn,” Luke snaps. Apparently, he’s the moral compass of this little tribe. “Come on. I’m not going to complain about a home cooked meal for once.”

  He strides past us toward the house, and Sophie goes well out of her way to avoid his gaze before following. Finn shrugs and follows suit—I get the feeling that he’s more of a nihilist than an asshole. That just leaves me and Cash, alone again. I watch as he nurses his cigarette, in no hurry to move.

  “You coming?” I ask him, watching his full lips close around the filter of his cig.

  “In a minute,” he says, looking out across the lake.

  “Your brothers seem…Uh…Charming,” I offer, not very convincingly, “I didn’t know you were the oldest. I guess we have that in common, huh?”

  “You didn’t really stick around long enough to find out, did you?” Cash replies. Clearly, he’s never going to let me live down my exit this morning. But instead of gushing about how sorry I am, I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

  “Yeah,” I drawl, dropping my voice an octave and giving an exaggerated shrug, “My policy has always been hit ‘em and quit ‘em. You get me, bro?”

  “…What?” Cash replies flatly, raising an eyebrow.

  “You know, man,” I go on, “Can’t be lettin’ bitches get all attached and shit. I’m not a one-man kind of girl, you feel me?”

  The corner of Cash’s mouth lifts ever so slightly as my bro impression picks up steam. It’s a tiny crack in his armor, a slight warming of his oh-so-cold shoulder treatment.

  “Shit though,” I go on, “I landed me one sweet piece of ass last night. If I wasn’t a total idiot, I would have bought that boy breakfast in the morning… Maybe let him know that he was right about me wanting more than one night.”

  “Is that so?” Cash replies, his voice low and rasping.

  “It is,” I tell him, my act evaporating at once.

  “Well,” he goes on, that crooked smile widening ever-so-slightly. “That’s good to know.”

  I hold my breath as he takes a step toward me, flicking his cigarette into the lake. He closes the space between us, catching my chin in his hand. We’re hidden from sight by the gathering twilight, and I feel my knees start go weak with anticipation.

  “You realize, though…” he growls, as I let my hands fall on his water-slicked chest, “That if anything else happens between us, you still won’t have had a one night stand?”

  “I think I can live with that,” I whisper, tilting my face toward his.

  His hands slide down my back, tugging me hard against his body. Every inch of me that’s pressed to him is screaming with delight, both present and remembered.

  “Well…We’ll just have to see what happens, then,” he murmurs, sliding his hands down over the rise of my ass. His lips brush against my neck, sending a shudder down my spine—

  “Maddie! Cash!” I hear Sophie call from the deck, her voice high and strangled, “Come on already! It’s time to eat.”

  I take a stumbling leap away from Cash as he looks on in amusement.

  “Coming!” I cry out, scrambling up the dock.

  “Already?” Cash teases, “I barely even touched you.”

  I let myself laugh at his crude joke, glad that there might be hope for our relationship yet—whatever the hell that relationship may be.

  “You have to admit,” he goes on, throwing a brotherly arm over my shoulders as we trudge toward the house, “This whole thing is pretty fucking hilarious.”

  “Oh yeah,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “It’s a real laugh riot.”

  Chapter Five

  As all eight Porters and Hawthornes settle down around the dinner table, I don’t think anyone is oblivious to how bizarre our little gathering is. Anyone, that is, besides my mother—who serves out generous helpings to everyone with a contented smile on her face. Robin Porter is the epitome of adaptable. I swear, she could get comfy in a nudist colony, cultish commune, or post-apocalyptic hellscape if she had to. She’s a woman who knows how to go with the flow, even if everyone around her is flailing in the current.

  “So nice to have everyone here at last,” she beams around the table. “Have all you kids gotten to know each other by now?”

  “More or less,” Cash grins, letting his knee brush against mine under the table. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the jolt of sensation that even this little contact sends through me. Cash and I have gotten to know each other, all right. At least in the biblical sense. What would the rest of this bizarro Brady Bunch think, if they knew the truth about us?

  “Glad you kids are all acquainted,” John grumbles, digging into his heaping plateful of meat and potatoes.

  “Your dad is a man of few words,” Robin laughs, looking fondly over at John, “Are all you boys the strong and silent types as well?”

  I remember the way Cash picked me up in his arms as if it were nothing, last night. Flipping me over, taking me from behind—

  “I don’t know if I’d put it that way,” Luke chuckles, “We all have more than our fair share of differences.”

  “Sounds like my girls, too,” Robin nods, “Annabel takes after me, with her photography and all. Maddie’s our little working girl over in Seattle. And Sophia’s studying drama and dance at Sheridan University.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Luke replies, as Sophie promptly chokes on her third glass of wine. Or is it her fourth? I’ve lost count.

  “You know what, dear?” Mom asks Luke.

  “Luke here is a Sheridan boy too,” John says proudly, “Finished undergrad just last year, and he’s already back there now for his business degree. They can’t get rid of him!”

  “Yep. Luke’s our college boy,” Cash says, none-too-sweetly. “The only college boy among the Hawthornes, actually.”

  “I would have been more than happy to send you to college too,” John says gruffly, shooting Cash a look, “You know that full well.”

  “If I hadn’t been wasting my time fighting a war and all?” Cash shoots back.

  “You’re in the military?” Anna asks, speaking up from her place next to Finn.

  “He was,” Finn replies, ripping a dinner roll in two.

  A long, heavy moment of silence swells up, enclosing us all. All four of the Hawthorne men retreat into themselves, leaving us Porter women at a loss. Since no one else is going to, I try my best to dispel the awkwardness.

  “So, you and Sophie are at the same school?” I say to Luke. “I’m sure undergrads and graduate students don’t see much of each other, though.”

  “Oh, I think So
phie and I have seen each other around school once or twice,” Luke says casually, helping me steer the conversation back toward civility.

  That explains why Sophie has been acting so strangely around Luke. Running into a schoolmate in such tight quarters would be pretty awkward. I feel her pain, though I think Cash and I still have the record for strangest origin story so far.

  “Sophie, you didn’t tell me you knew Luke!” Mom gushes.

  “Well, I didn’t exactly know we were family friends. Or that I’d be seeing him—them—here, did I” Sophie replies shortly, face halfway hidden behind her glass. “Besides, I don't know him. We just go to the same school. With thousands of other people. It’s not the same thing.”

  “I guess Sheridan is a much bigger school than the one me and John met in,” Mom laughs, clueless about Sophie’s discomfort. “Little Flathead County High was not exactly a hopping place. What did we have, a hundred kids per class?”

  “We still had our fun though, didn’t we?” John smiles broadly at Mom.

  “We sure did,” Mom giggles suggestively.

  The six of us adult children trade uncomfortable glances across the table. We’ve been skirting the subject of our parents’ relationship, but our questions can’t be put off any longer.

  “So, what, you two dated in high school or something?” Anna asks.

  “Or something…” John replies vaguely.

  “Actually,” Mom goes on conspiratorially, “John and I were engaged.”

  Six heads whip around the face the eldest Porter and Hawthorne.

  “Well, that’s a conversation we haven’t had,” I say tersely.

  “You were engaged?” Sophie exclaims, jaw hanging open, “What…When?!”

  “All through senior year of high school,” Mom says, somewhat wistfully.

  “But I couldn’t keep this one pinned down in Podunk, Montana,” John puts in, with a lingering edge to his voice.

  “My scholarship to art school came through, and I couldn’t pass it up,” Mom sighs, “Besides, we were so young…”