Based: A Stepbrother Romance (Extreme Sports Alphas)

by Hamel, B. B.

  Quickly, we found our spots, and the waiters filled our wine glasses. Lincoln gave me a grin as the speaker walked onstage.

  Suddenly, looking at his cocky and alluring smile, I realized something.

  Inviting him was a bad idea. A really bad idea. I thought it would be fun to have someone my age around, but my heart wouldn’t stop hammering just sitting near him, and he kept giving me these looks. These arrogant, sexy looks that made my knees shake.

  It was going to be a long night.

  “Are you Based Carter?”

  The girl was probably our age, maybe a couple years younger, and had long, dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was pretty in a conventional way, skinny and tall and all that. She was our waitress and I had seen her eyeing Lincoln all night long as one speaker turned into the next. He had pretended like he didn’t notice, or at least he hadn’t acted like he cared, until she finally worked up the nerve to ask.

  “I sure am. What’s your name?”

  “Wow. I’m Cindy. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

  “That’s cool. Thanks, Cindy. Always good to meet a fan.”

  “Listen, will you sign something?”

  “Sure. Napkin?”

  “I mean, they’re cloth.” She frowned, unsure.

  He wasn’t listening. He pulled the napkin off his lap and looked up at her. She hesitated a second and then held out a black Sharpie. He proceeded to write, “To Cindy, jump off shit and fly, Based Carter” on the napkin and handed it to her.

  “Not used, I promise.”

  She giggled. “That’s okay. I mean, thanks so much.”

  “No problem, Cindy.” He gave her an absolutely winning smile.

  I was surprised by how smoothly he handled it. I knew he was famous, but that was the first time I had seen him deal with a fan. Clearly he had practice.

  She stood there for a second staring at him before scampering off, shoving the napkin into her pocket quickly. I gave Lincoln a look.

  “Does that happen a lot?” I asked.

  “Not really. I mean, more and more in the last year, but it’s not like BASE jumping is super popular.”

  “Still, must feel weird.”

  “You’re not kidding. After the clothing deal went through, and I was in that Pepsi ad, I got recognized a lot more. That was surreal.”

  “Pepsi ad. I forgot about that.”

  He laughed. “How could you? Worst shit I’ve ever done, but they paid me a lot.”

  I laughed along with him. He hadn’t talked much about his career until then. Throughout the years apart, I had seen him go from pretty obscure jumper to being in national ad campaigns. He wasn’t exactly Hollywood famous or anything like that, but whenever there was an extreme sports-based campaign, they always called up Based Carter. He was becoming pretty recognizable.

  So much that his waitresses gushed over him like he was something special.

  I took a bite of my salad and looked away. The speaker portion of the night was over, and most people were eating their “complimentary” dinner and drinking from the open bar. Lincoln was keeping our entire table entertained with stories from his travels, which ranged from a friend of his that pretended to fall off a cliff but was actually wearing a parachute to the time he broke the world record for jumping from a man-made structure only to end up arrested a few hours later. He was charming and kind and magnetic, and I could barely keep my eyes off him.

  Which only made the doubt lodged in the center of my stomach that much worse. I knew what I wanted, but there were too many things in our way.

  Mostly the fact that he was my stepbrother.

  As the waitress took away our plates, a live string band began to play something slow but apparently danceable. I watched couples stand up from their tables, make their way to the little dance floor, and begin to slowly move around the space. Lincoln gave me a grin.

  “Now that’s what I call classic,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Old people dancing to old music.”

  I laughed. “It does look a little . . . slow.”

  “And you prefer it fast,” he said. Not a question, but a statement.

  I hit his thigh. “Cut it out.”

  He looked innocent. “What? Just making the logical assumption.”

  “Yeah, you’re so logical all the time, aren’t you?”

  “I sure am. Just because I didn’t go to college doesn’t mean I can’t think.”

  I ground my teeth. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, sorry, my uneducated brain must not have understood.”

  I shook my head, frustrated, and he grinned hugely at me.

  “Do you ever turn off?” I asked him.

  “Can’t turn off perfection.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Makes sense to me. Why are you so on edge tonight, anyway?”

  I sighed and took a sip of my wine. “I don’t know. I hate this sort of thing, I guess.”

  “What, a charity event full of old white people?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that. Also crowds and working for your mom.”

  “I don’t blame you there.”

  “I shouldn’t complain. She’s been good to me.”

  “You can feel however you feel, Brie baby. It’s cool.”

  I blinked, surprised by his decent response. “Was that a glimmer of humanity I just got from you?”

  He laughed, and I wanted to reach forward and kiss the stubble along his throat.

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  He leaned back in his chair and finished his wine in three big gulps, gesturing at the waitress for another. She quickly came over to refill it. I rolled my eyes at him as she left.

  “Fame must be nice,” I said.

  “Has its perks.”

  I looked across the room, trying to spot my dad or Jules, but couldn’t see either of them. “Did you see my dad yet?” I asked.

  He froze in his seat. “Cliff is here?”

  I gave him a look. “Yeah, of course. It’s his wife’s event.”

  “I just figured he was too busy.”

  “Nope. He’s here. What’s the deal, why do you look weird?”

  He shook his head and composed himself, but for a moment there he looked like he had seen a ghost. His expression was quickly rearranged into his usual cocky grin, but I couldn’t help but wonder what that had meant.

  “Not a thing, sweet Brie. Want to dance?”

  I laughed. “Dance? Can’t you barely walk?”

  He jerked his head at the dance floor. “Look at that pace. I think I can handle it.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to push you.”

  He leaned in close and I felt the blood rush to my brain. “You couldn’t push me too far even if you tried.”

  “Okay. Let’s see about that.” I pushed my chair back and stood up.

  His face broke out into a huge smile as he struggled to his feet and grabbed his stupid, skull-headed cane. “That’s the spirit.”

  We walked together out toward the dance floor as the original song ended and another began. We stood for a second and watched how the old people were dancing.

  “Think you can handle it?” he asked me.

  “After you, Prince Charming.”

  He dropped his cane onto the carpet and stepped out onto the floor, gesturing for me. I stepped up against him, standing with my hand in his and his arm on my hip, the oldest and most cliché dance position ever.

  “Think my cane is safe there? These old dudes look pretty shady.”

  I giggled softly. “I think you’re safe.”

  We began to dance, matching the pace of the people around us. It was a simple step, just a few paces and a turn, and the rhythm was easy enough.

  For a second, the world fell away. Lincoln wasn’t my stepbrother and I wasn’t stressed about Jules and being stuck at home without any friends in the area. There was just me and him, his strong hands guiding me, his b
reath close against my face, and my heart beating hard in my chest. I didn’t care who saw us or what they thought. The only thing I wanted was for the song to keep playing. He was smooth and strong and confident, and we quickly fell into an easy step together. Despite his injuries, he never fell behind or gave any indication that his legs were bothering him.

  I breathed deeply and filled myself with his smell, losing myself in him. I had never danced that way before with anyone, had really only ever danced with guys in clubs, but for some reason it was so much more intimate with Lincoln. Although my ass wasn’t crushing up against his dick, and we looked like proper rich people, I still felt like we were coming closer together than I ever had with anyone else. Maybe it was the glass of wine, though I doubted it.

  It was getting harder and harder to deny. What I wanted, what I desperately wanted, kept threatening to overwhelm what I was doing. Every new step, every turn, every time I breathed in his smell and felt his strong hand against my hip.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice cutting through the music.

  “Yeah, fine. Just hot I guess.” I looked away from his rain-green eyes.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he practically growled into my ear.

  “I can’t. I mean, Jules would kill me.”

  He reached up and snatched the radio from my ear. I barely had time to register what he had done before it was pushed into his ear. He pressed the button to broadcast.

  “Jules, it’s your son. I’m taking Brie home. She’s not feeling well.”

  We kept dancing, keeping up appearances as he listened to her response. After a second, he grinned at me and pulled the earpiece out.

  “All clear,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Come on. This shit isn’t getting any better.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  We moved off the floor, Lincoln’s limp a little more pronounced. I grabbed his cane for him, and he wrapped his hand through my arm. He was leaning a little more on me than he had before, but he wasn’t letting any pain show on his face. I could tell that the dancing had taken a lot out of him, though. The jerk wasn’t going to complain about it, he was just going to let me literally torture him with dancing.

  We pushed out into the cool night air, Boulder’s downtown stretching out to our right.

  “You drive here?” I asked him.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Okay. Where to then?”

  “Let’s just walk.”

  “Lead the way.”

  He took off toward downtown and I tagged along, not trying to push the pace too fast. He was quiet as we moved along, his face unreadable, and I wasn’t sure what we were doing or where we were going. Not that I minded all that much; the night was comfortable and there weren’t many people out on the wide central walking path that wound its way between businesses. He looked stern and serious and probably in pain, and I wanted to reach out and touch his jaw, but instead I just kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself and enjoyed the night.

  In the distance, the mountains loomed over everything.

  I almost walked directly into his back before I realized that he had stopped moving.

  “Whoa there,” he said, catching me as I stumbled around him.

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize you stopped.”

  He grinned at me, his hand clutching my waist. Neither of us moved for half a second, and he cocked his head at me.

  “Let’s sit.” He nodded at a bench.

  I shrugged and moved away from him, out of his grasp, and lowered myself down onto the bench. He sat next to me, letting out an audible sigh.

  “Legs hurt?” I asked him.

  “Fuck yes. I’m not too proud to admit that they hurt like a motherfucker right now.”

  I laughed. “Very descriptive.”

  “What can I say. It’s hard to be witty when walking hurts.”

  I leaned back on the bench. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

  He reached into his jacket, pulling out a flask. I looked at it and laughed.

  “Didn’t have to steal this,” he said.

  I blinked at him, letting the reference sink in. I reached out for it and he passed the silver metal off to me. I flipped open the top and took a long drag. It was whisky, but not the cheap stuff. It went down like honey and oak, smooth and delicious. I passed it back.

  “That’s good,” I said.

  “Yeah. With shit like this, it’s either tough to drink or it’s delicious. Not much middle ground.”

  “Though the ending is always the same.”

  He laughed and toasted me. “Here’s to that ending,” he said, taking a pull.

  “Careful. I think you’re my ride.”

  “I didn’t drink more than a glass back at that rich person’s funeral.”

  “You mean the charity event?”

  “Was that what it was? Sorry, I guess I couldn’t tell.”

  I laughed and shook my head, looking out across the city. We were pretty alone on the bench, with a large hedge behind us and empty, open space ahead. I looked up at the mountains again and sighed. Out in Indiana, the only thing in the distance was more distance and snow. Usually just snow when it fell enough to block out the distance. And for most of the year, there was a thick, dark, permanent cloud cover that sucked the joy out of everything and blocked out the sun.

  As much as I was bored at home, I had to admit that Colorado was pretty beautiful.

  “Not bad,” Lincoln grunted.

  “What is?”

  “This.” He nodded at the mountains.

  “You ever jump off them?”

  He laughed and moved himself closer to me. My heart resumed its frantic thumping.

  “Once, yeah. Back when I first started.”

  “What’s it like?”

  He was silent for a second, staring off at the mountains. I almost wondered if he hadn’t heard me, but then he started speaking.

  “It’s like freedom. It’s terrifying and exciting and you’re alive and dead and everything all at once. You know there’s the potential for injury or worse, but that feeling you get hurtling toward the ground is totally worth all the risk. When you’re up there, it all stops.”

  “I don’t think I could do it.”

  He laughed at me. “You could. You’re the bravest person I know.”

  I laughed. “Why do you say that?”

  His face was close to mine. I could feel his warm breath. “Gorgeous and smart and brave. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for years.”

  “Lincoln,” was all I could say.

  “Fuck, Brie. You know what you do to me.”

  “I don’t.”

  He moved closer, his thigh against mine. I should have gotten up, but I couldn’t.

  “You give me that feeling. That same feeling. Freedom and terror and sky all coming up at me. You fucking bring me back to earth, Aubrie. And I’m sick of not having you.”

  I wanted to say something, but he crushed my reply against my mouth with his lips and kissed me hard.

  It was like the last time, all those years ago. I pressed myself back against him, my arms around his neck, as the thrill and rush ran through my lips and chest, tingles cascading down my chest and spine. The air was crisp and his mouth was clean and open as he kissed me, his tongue touching mine, and I couldn’t do anything else, anything else in the world, but sit on that bench and kiss him back. It was what I wanted more than anything. All the worry and the stress and the fear and the desire, it was all there and it also wasn’t, and it felt so good. I thought it might never end. I was okay with that.

  And then his phone started buzzing and ringing.

  The old-style tone cut through the night. I pulled back, my forehead touching his, my breath coming deep.

  “Silence it,” I said. He grinned and reached into his pocket with his right hand, his left hand around my waist. His cane lay forgotten on the ground.

  He pulled it up an
d paused, fingers poised over the button that would silence it. His head turned slightly and I glanced at the caller ID. It said “Cliff,” which could only have been my dad.

  “What does he want?” I mumbled.

  Then Lincoln was gone, his forehead pulled away, his one hand holding the phone up to his face and the other retracting away from my body. I felt empty and wanted him back, but the doubt that had been held at bay by his touch flooded back into me, and I couldn’t believe what had happened.

  Worse, I couldn’t believe how right it felt. That scared me more.

  “Hello?” he said.

  He paused and listened. “We went for a walk. Aubrie wasn’t feeling well.”

  I stood up and moved a few feet away, trying to get my emotions under control. I glanced back and caught the look on Lincoln’s face, both confused and angry.

  “Okay, I will,” he said.

  He listened for another second and then hung up the phone.

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “We should get you home.” He reached down and grabbed his cane and then straightened up.

  “Lincoln, we should talk.”

  He limped over to me and stood there, his face intense and concentrated.

  “No, we shouldn’t. Let’s not talk. I said what I wanted to say. You think about it, and if you still want to talk, we can tomorrow.”

  “What, you can just order me around?”

  “Look, we have to get you home. Your dad was worried.”

  “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

  I started walking back toward the venue and Lincoln’s car, not bothering to wait up for him. I was annoyed that he’d order me around, and annoyed that he’d break away from me just because my dad had called him.

  Mostly, though, I was annoyed with myself. Because as much as I wanted it to not be true, I wanted him. I was soaking wet, and I would have gone down on him right there if he had wanted me to. I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me.

  I was in for one awkward and quiet ride home. But he was right about one thing: I needed to think about what had happened. I needed to think about what I wanted.