Boxed Set

by Brenda K. Davies

  "Liar."

  "You're going to have so much fun over here, Issy!" Abby cried enthusiastically.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes as she stepped into the basement which was divided by a simple plywood wall. They were standing in the laundry and weight room, both of which were rarely used. Ethan led the way to the door in the simply assembled wall and threw it open. Isabelle stepped in and groaned.

  The room was large and plain. The bed was queen size, with a small wood headboard and no footboard. It was stripped completely bare to reveal the old, indented mattress. A TV sat on a rickety-looking metal stand, both gray with dust. A small window was set in the far right wall; a shabby black curtain hung over it to block the sun. The door to the half bath was ajar; Isabelle didn't want to know what it looked like in there. The entire room was damp and reeked of mildew.

  "I am cleaning this." Isabelle dropped her suitcase on the dirty cream-colored carpet.

  "I wouldn't doubt it," Ethan muttered.

  "Ugh, it smells in here." Vicky wrinkled her tiny nose.

  Isabelle crossed to the small set of stairs on the left-hand side and shoved the storm doors open. She inhaled the fresh summer air gratefully. "Could you open the window for me?" she called over her shoulder.

  Abby quickly threw the curtain back and pulled the tiny window down. She stuck out her nose and inhaled deeply. "Just don't get any ideas about the rest of the house," Ethan told her. "You're going to have a brand new one to decorate, and scrub, soon."

  "Yeah, yeah," Isabelle replied distractedly. Her mind was already trying to figure out where to start.

  Ethan groaned as he moved across the room. "Just don't have the whole place reeking of flowers or some other girly scent. We're manly men here. Ah crap, we're screwed. I'll see you later."

  Isabelle tried not to grin as he shook his head and turned away. He fled swiftly through the storm doors, still muttering to himself as he disappeared.

  "Do you want us to help?" Vicky asked.

  Isabelle groaned inwardly as she nodded. She may not want it, but she was going to need all the help she could get.

  Hours later, she had the walls scrubbed nearly white again, the rug vacuumed and washed, everything dusted, the bed neatly made, and the room smelling wonderfully of fresh air and apple.

  Her hair hung in straggly wet strands around her face, and her clothes were dirty and sweaty as they stuck to her. Vicky and Abby looked just as bad. Fortunately, they weren't complaining anymore or rattling on about Stefan. Now, they sat on the bed, too tired to move.

  "I'm going to take a shower," Isabelle said.

  They nodded as Isabelle gathered her clothes and headed out of the basement and back up the stairs. Making her way through the living room, she went upstairs to the full bath, which was also in desperate need of a good cleaning.

  She forced herself not to groan as she took in the absolute mess. Toothpaste and toothbrushes were scattered haphazardly around the sink, and the yellow of the basin was nearly white from the caked-up toothpaste and shaving cream. The floor was filthy, she didn't even want to look at the toilet, and mildew covered the shower.

  She forced herself not to think about any of it as she took a quick shower, dressed, and left the room before she started to clean it now. It would be her first project tomorrow. She wondered if she could recruit Vicky and Abby again, but she doubted it. They had only helped her today in the hope of seeing Stefan, but he stayed at the building site with everyone else. She wondered if Jess would be willing to help. She was going to need it.

  She entered her new room again and threw her dirty clothes into the hamper. Tomorrow she would make the rounds, gather everyone's dirty laundry, and make sure it was all clean by the end of the day. While she was here, she was going to make sure everyone had plenty of clean clothes and a clean house. She turned her attention back to Vicky and Abby, who looked as if they hadn't moved an inch.

  "Would you guys want to help me tomorrow?"

  They exchanged quick glances. "Well, we were going to, ah—"

  "Don't worry about it," she interrupted with a smile.

  "Maybe we'll stop by later in the day," Vicky offered.

  "That's okay," Isabelle assured them.

  "Isabelle!"

  She nearly jumped out of her skin as Willow's head appeared in the doorway of the storm cellar. She didn't even have to ask, the look on Willow's face said it all. "What did you do now?" she mumbled as she leapt up the stairwell.

  Willow turned and started to run. Isabelle followed her around the back of the house and toward the woods. Willow ran gracefully down a trail, dodging the tree branches slapping at Isabelle's arms and legs. Cursing and muttering angrily, she wasn't paying any attention to where they were going. Willow pulled up abruptly in a small clearing, if she hadn't grabbed hold of Isabelle, she would have plummeted right over the edge of the pit in the middle of the clearing.

  Skidding to a halt, her eyes landed on the hole that was about ten feet in diameter. It looked grotesquely out of place in the middle of the small clearing. "What the—"

  "Isabelle!"

  Surprise ripped through her as the small voice came from the hole. She stepped carefully to the edge of the pit and looked down. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her blood ran cold as she spotted Julian about four feet down, clinging to a tree root with his feet dangling in the air. Beneath him were at least a hundred old, deadly looking wooden stakes. It took her only a second to realize he’d fallen into a long forgotten bear trap.

  Isabelle dropped to her knees and scooted to the edge of the hole. Julian stared at her with pleading blue eyes. Dirt and sweat matted his black hair to his forehead. "Isabelle, help me," he begged.

  "Hold on Julian, don't you dare let go of that root."

  "Tell me something I don't know," he replied desolately.

  "No need to be sarcastic," she muttered as she dropped to her belly and scooted closer to the edge. She leaned into the hole, but he was further down than she’d thought. "Crap," she muttered, wiggling further over the edge. "Willow, grab my ankles!" she yelled.

  When Willow’s hands wrapped around her ankles, she wiggled out further until she was half in, and half out of the hole. "Julian, grab my hands!" she grated, barely able to breathe from the pressure on her stomach. He hesitated before stretching up and seizing one of her arms. She grasped his tiny forearm. "Now the other one."

  He bit his bottom lip as his face visibly paled. He released his hold on the root and grabbed her other arm.

  "Isabelle!" Willow gasped. "You're too heavy!"

  Dismay ripped through her as she struggled to breathe. "Don't you dare let go!" she yelled.

  "If you let go, I will haunt you for the rest of my afterlife!" Julian shouted.

  Isabelle cocked an eyebrow as she stared down at him. "That's not much of a threat," she mumbled. "She already has to deal with you for eternity; she might take her chances on you not being able to bother her in ghost form."

  She hadn't thought it was possible, but he paled further. "That's not funny!"

  "Willow, pull us up!" Isabelle commanded.

  "I'm trying!" Willow cried.

  Isabelle closed her eyes and ground her teeth as she attempted to wiggle backward. Her arms were beginning to ache, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. Willow tugged at her ankles, pulling them back inch by excruciatingly slow inch. The three of them cried out as Willow lost her footing and slid to the ground.

  Isabelle slipped back over the edge, this time to her hips before she was jerked to a halt. Julian looked about ready to burst into tears as he, in turn, was also pulled to a stop. Her arms screamed in agony as her shoulders nearly ripped from their sockets by the force of his weight.

  "I'm sorry," Willow panted. "I can't do this."

  Isabelle closed her eyes and groaned. What was she going to do? Where were Vicky and Abby? "Isabelle," Julian panted.

  "It's okay, just hold on. Willow, you have to do this!"

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nbsp; "I can't," she cried, her voice choked with tears.

  "Then go get help!" she barked, her patience at an end. She was scared senseless, holding her brother over certain death, and damn close to her death. She didn't have time to deal with Willow's tears.

  "But—"

  "Go!" she and Julian yelled at the same time.

  Her ankles were released, and she slid a few inches forward. Horror drove her heart into her throat as she tried to dig her feet into the ground. The slide stopped as she managed to plant her toes into the dirt. Adrenaline shook her as she stared down at Julian.

  "I swear if we get out of this I am going to kill you!" she grated through her teeth.

  Julian managed a wan smile as he cast a worried glance behind him. "Please don't let go."

  "I'll never let go," she assured him. She'd go plummeting over with him before she ever let go. Julian's hands dug into her skin as he lifted his head to look at her again. His eyes filled with unshed tears as his lower lip quivered. "How do you manage to get yourself into these messes?"

  "We were only walking," he whispered plaintively.

  Isabelle closed her eyes and dropped her head. The smell of the dirt filled her nostrils as she inhaled deeply and tried to ignore the torture growing in her arms and shoulders. The muscles in her legs were being stretched beyond their capacity, and her feet were beginning to cramp from digging into the ground. She didn't know how much longer she could keep them both from sliding all the way into the pit. She gritted her teeth, determined to hold on for as long as it took.

  "Your hair is tickling me," Julian informed her.

  "Sorry," she mumbled as she lifted her head.

  Hands suddenly grasped her waist. She cried out as she was plucked off the ground and Julian came with her. Stumbling back, her trembling legs barely supported her as she was set on the ground. A strong hand in the small of her back quickly righted her.

  A jolt of something ripped through her body, but it was quickly forgotten as Julian fell against her. His arms encircled her waist as he buried his head in her chest. She dropped her head to his as he shook against her.

  "It's okay," she soothed.

  He lifted his head. Tears slid through the grime on his cheeks, leaving clean tracks in their wake. Isabelle hadn't seen Julian cry since he was four years old, and that was over eight years ago. He always tried to emulate his older brothers and be as tough as he thought they were.

  "Hey, it's okay now." She wiped the tears and dirt from his cheeks as he buried his head against her again.

  "Are you still going to kill me?" he muttered.

  She laughed as she hugged him. "No, but I will next time."

  "It's a deal," he promised fervently.

  He pulled away from her, wiping the tears from his face as his gaze traveled behind her. His face turned thirteen shades of red. Isabelle frowned as she turned to see which one of her brothers had pulled them from the hole. By the look on Julian's face, it had to be Ethan; he was the one Julian most admired.

  Her breath froze in her chest as her eyes locked on a pair of perturbed onyx ones. Stefan’s jaw was locked; dirt, sawdust, and sweat coated his strong-boned, handsome face. His shirt was off, revealing his broad chest and wide shoulders. Muscle and sinew rippled beneath the layers of dirt and sweat coating him. More muscle ridged his stomach, and Isabelle instantly understood the term washboard abs as her mouth went dry.

  She swallowed nervously as her gaze traveled over his tapered waist before moving further down. The dirty jeans he wore hugged his well-muscled thighs and the noticeable bulge between his legs. She jerked her gaze away and back to his chest. Thick black hair curled over his chest, circling his nipples before traveling down in a V which would have drawn her attention lower again if she hadn't adamantly refused to look. She couldn't glance down there again; it did odd things to her body she didn't understand, or appreciate.

  Her gaze returned to his face. It was magnificent. His square jaw had dark bristles just beginning to form a five o'clock shadow. His cheekbones were high and sharp, his nose finely chiseled. His lips were full and compressed in a firm line. Isabelle shuddered as the sudden desire to kiss those lips tore through her. It took all she had to stop her knees from shaking.

  He was lethal looking, and the aura of power he radiated shook her. She wished Julian was still in her grasp so she could use him as a barrier against Stefan.

  "You okay?" Stefan asked.

  His deep voice sent small shivers of delight zipping through her. Isabelle nodded, but she didn’t trust herself to speak. She’d thought, hoped, prayed her reaction to him last night was a fluke. It disconcerted her to realize it wasn't. She wanted to flee into the woods and hide until he was long gone.

  She didn't want to be anywhere near him, and she fervently wished he would stop staring at her like he wanted to devour her. Stop staring at her as if he could see straight into her soul. It was a look she’d often seen on her father's face when he’d gazed at her mother, and she didn't want it directed at her. Resentment and resolve straightened her spine.

  "Thank you," she said coldly.

  Humor flickered through his eyes as his gaze traveled over her, and he seemed to undress her with his eyes. She scowled at him as he finally met her gaze again.

  "No problem," he said.

  Isabelle forcefully turned away from him and draped her arm around Julian's shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up."

  Julian shrugged her arm off and straightened his shoulders. "I'm good."

  When he’d needed her help, she'd been there for him, but now, when she desperately needed his, he was abandoning her.

  "Fine," she grated.

  "Thank you," Julian said to Stefan as he strode by, showing no sign of the immediate death he’d just faced.

  Willow burst out of the woods, slamming into him, and knocking them both to the ground. "Hey!" Julian yelled angrily.

  "Oh, sorry!" she cried as she jumped to her feet.

  Isabelle ran a tired and achy hand through her still wet hair. If any of her younger siblings survived to maturity, she would be truly amazed. Vicky and Abby suddenly appeared behind them. Isabelle glowered at them as they came forward, openly admiring Stefan, before stepping to the edge of the hole. "And where were you two?" she demanded.

  "We were tired!" they both cried in unison.

  "How were we supposed to know they were in trouble again?" Abby demanded.

  "Yeah!" Vicky yelled.

  Isabelle took a deep breath as she attempted to control her frustration. It wasn't only them she was annoyed with, but also herself, and Stefan, and the whole freaking world for playing this cruel joke on her.

  "By Willow's tone," she retorted.

  They both gave her identical looks of disbelief as they propped their hands on their hips. "Willow always freaks when they do something wrong! We just thought they had dared the twins to do something stupid again!" Abby protested as she gazed between Isabelle and Stefan.

  "I do not!" Willow denied vehemently.

  "Wow, that is deadly!" Vicky breathed as she gazed into the hole.

  "No kidding!" Isabelle retorted.

  Vicky frowned as she looked at her; she wasn’t used to catching Isabelle in a bad mood or having Isabelle yell at them. "What's got you in such a mood?" Vicky asked.

  Isabelle's jaw clenched as she bit her bottom lip to keep from exploding. "He could have been killed."

  "So could you."

  Isabelle's eyes snapped to Stefan. He stood in the same spot, his arms folded casually over his chest. The amused gleam in his eyes set her teeth on edge. It was as if he knew he was the reason she was perturbed, and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

  She realized with a jolt he did enjoy it; just as she’d known what the hungry gleam in his eyes meant. He was a handsome man, after all. Of course, he knew what he did to women. Pride stiffened her spine as she tilted her chin defiantly. It didn't matter what he knew; she intended to stay as far away from him as possible.

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bsp; A small smile curved his full mouth as his hungry gaze traveled leisurely back over her. A small tremor began to rack through her as his gaze burned into her, causing her skin to warm everywhere it landed.

  When it lingered on her heaving chest, Isabelle was horrified at the prickling sensation causing her nipples to tingle. She forced herself to shove the new sensations he awoke within her aside as she glowered at him. She didn't know what he found so amusing about this situation, but she didn't find anything at all funny about it.

  "Yeah, Issy!" Vicky cried grabbing her arm. "You are so lucky Stefan was coming back to the house!"

  Yeah, she was the luckiest person alive, Isabelle thought in annoyance as Stefan smirked arrogantly. She turned away from him, taking a deep breath as she forced herself to remain calm. She had to get away from him, all of them. All her concern for Julian and herself was gone, but there was a new worry gnawing at the pit of her stomach, and it threatened to be her undoing.

  She hurried back to the path, ignoring Vicky and Abby's chatter as she mumbled a quick thanks to Stefan. She kept her head high as she walked away feeling his gaze burning into her back with every step she took.

  Chapter Five

  Stefan wiped the sweat from his brow as he grabbed a bottle of water and dumped it over his head. His gaze settled on Delia, Jess, Vicky, and Abby. They had set up lounge chairs and donned their bathing suits to absorb the sun. Suntan lotion, magazines, and a radio were set up around them, and melodious music drifted through the air.

  They looked extremely relaxed as they flipped through the pages of magazines. He couldn't hear what they were saying, nor did he particularly care. He knew Jess's ability to communicate about anything other than fashion or hair was severely limited. He didn't know how someone who went to college could know so little of the world, but somehow, she was completely clueless.

  He shook his head as he grimaced slightly. His gaze ran back over them as he wondered why Isabelle wasn't with them. From what he gathered, Isabelle was usually with one relative or another, so he'd assumed she would be with her sisters and the other girls.