Somebody to Love

by Ann Christopher

  And its corollary:

  No woman would ever want Sean anyway. Because he was a loser.

  Cheeks burning, he kept his attention firmly fixed on Mike and Dara, hoping against hope that it took Amber a little while longer to realize just what a loser Sean was.

  “Hey,” he said, pausing to clear his husky voice and working hard to up the wattage of his smile. “Congrats, you two. Merry Christmas.”

  “Hey, man, how’s it going?” Mike said gamely.

  “Not too bad,” Sean said.

  “Hey, Sean. Merry Christmas!” Dara said with the smile that had melted his heart back in the day. “How are things going in the Hudson River Valley?”

  “Can’t complain,” Sean told her.

  “And how’s the job search coming?” she asked. “Mom mentioned that you had a couple of interviews lined up last week. We’ve got our fingers crossed for you.”

  “You’d better keep them crossed for a little while longer,” Sean told her. “I haven’t landed my dream job just yet.”

  Or any job, not that he needed to get into all the gory details of his fruitless months-long search with the golden couple here.

  “Keep your chin up,” Mike told him. “You’ve put in the hard work and paid your dues. You just need a good break. I’m sure it’s right around the corner.”

  Sean stifled an irritated sigh.

  There he went with the platitudes. No one managed to spout useless nuggets of wisdom quite like Mike, boy. As if keeping his chin up was going to put money in Sean’s dwindling savings account.

  Although, to be fair (not that Sean was ever in the mood to be fair when it came to his brother), Mike’s heart was probably in the right place. He probably did want the best for Sean. Perfect Mike could afford to be generous from where he sat atop his own personal mountaintop, the king of everything he surveyed.

  As for Sean? He knew he needed to work on making his peace with Mike and dialing back the simmering resentment.

  But that was like trying to be happy for the guy who wins a million dollars at the Vegas slot machine you’d just vacated:

  Easier said than done.

  Especially when Sean had spent his entire life trying to measure up to Mike’s endless accomplishments, a fruitless struggle that had worn him down and left him fucking exhausted.

  While other kids had grown up with Michael Jordan as their impossible ideal, for Sean, being like Mike meant that his parents expected him to make his bed like Mike. Become a Boy Scout and ultimately an Eagle Scout like Mike. Go to Harvard law like Mike. Spin straw into gold like Mike.

  Mike had been the platinum standard against which his parents had measured him. And even now, when his father was long dead and his mother knew better than to suggest that Sean be like Mike in so much as the way he scratched his nose, Sean’s own voice had replaced theirs in his head. His own voice knew he could never be like Mike and had instead taken to calling him a loser.

  Which might explain why Sean had always done things the other way. The hard way. He’d never really applied himself in school, as evidenced by his ultimate failure in law school. Why work his ass off so he could earn a 3.8 GPA when Mike could also work his ass off and earn a 4.3? If Mike walked the straight and narrow, never drinking much more than a glass and a half of wine, why shouldn’t Sean be the one who drank too much and dabbled in recreational drugs in college?

  After all, Mike had certainly carved his way in the world, hadn’t he? Why shouldn’t Sean carve his?

  True, Sean had eventually (and painfully) gotten himself together, scraping his way into and then through cooking school. He’d found good jobs. Worked his way up the culinary food chain. Until now, anyway.

  Would he eventually turn his situation around? Yeah. Probably. He’d done it enough times in the past.

  But the thing he didn’t need in the meantime, especially with Amber in the room, a woman who was way too good for even a fully employed version of Sean, was to sit there and listen to his perfect brother dole out these condescending words of wisdom.

  “Keep my chin up,” Sean said, patently unable to keep the chill out of his voice. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  Mike’s expression slid into the pained tolerance that Sean knew so well. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Congrats on winning your trial, Dara, by the way,” Sean said quickly, determined to keep the conversation relatively civil before Amber, who was now straightening magazines on the coffee table and keeping her gaze lowered, gained a complete understanding of how twisted Sean’s family dynamic was. “And on the new partnership. That’s great.”

  “Thanks, Sean,” she said. “We have more news, too.”

  Of course they did.

  Nobel Peace Prize? Genius grant? Lotto win?

  “I’m pregnant,” Dara said brightly, casting a Meghan Markle look of absolute adoration at Mike. “Your brother tried to claim that we were pregnant, but I gave him a smackdown.”

  Sean froze, everything inside him turning to lead.

  For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Mike and Dara were in love. They’d been married for many years now. He’d always known that they’d have kids sooner or later.

  And he was happy for them. Way down deep, in his heart of hearts, he knew that they deserved this happiness. It was just that their happiness together ripped the curtain back on his own lonely life and his failure, thus far, to find somebody to love. It was just that their perfection highlighted his inability to get his shit together and keep it together for longer than a baseball season.

  Somehow he unstuck his face. Got his cheeks working in an upward motion. Smiled in a semi-authentic manner.

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you. You’ll be great parents.”

  “Thanks, Sean,” Mike said, sounding gruff.

  “That really means the world to us,” Dara said, looking teary now.

  “It’s the truth,” Sean told them. “That’s going to be a lucky kid. Let’s just hope he or she looks like Dara.”

  They all laughed, at which point it felt safe for Sean to risk a glance at Amber, who’d taken a seat across the way in one of her overstuffed chairs. She winked at Sean. Gave him a thumbs-up that he found surprisingly heartening.

  “I’m going to be a grandma!” their mother said, her face aglow as she dove into view between Mike and Dara. “I’ve been waiting for this day for most of my life!”

  “Yes, woman, we know you have,” Mike said, his weary tone belied by his poorly repressed smile. “You keep saying that every three minutes.”

  “Oh, and I have more good news, Sean!” their mother said.

  Sean, who wasn’t sure how much more good news he could take for the evening, kept that same pleasant smile plastered to his face.

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “Mike and Dara gave me an all-expenses-paid trip anywhere I want to go! As my Christmas gift!”

  Of course they did, Sean thought dully, thinking of the plush robe and slippers he’d dropped in the mail for her as his Christmas gift.

  “And they’re coming with me!” their mother continued. “And guess where I chose?”

  Dread leapt up to Sean’s throat and clamped it in a chokehold.

  Couldn’t be.

  “Uh...”

  “Journey’s End! If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain has to come to Mohammed, right?”

  Sean gaped at her, his horror too complete to allow any facial expression beyond that. He could manage a lot of things, but the collision of his old life in Cincinnati and his new life here in Journey’s End was not one of them.

  “We’ll come in the spring,” their mother continued happily. “We’ll send some dates for you. Get everything lined up. I can’t wait! Merry Christmas, Sean! I’ll call you again on Christmas Day! Love you! Bye!”

  She blew him a kiss and hung up. Whereupon Sean tossed his phone aside, clapped his hands over his eyes and slumped against the back of the sofa.
>
  “Fuuuck.”

  Laughing, Amber plunked down on the sofa beside him.

  “I’m so glad I’m not the only one around here with complicated family issues,” she said cheerfully. “Although, to be fair, I get along really well with my brother and his wife.”

  Sean dropped his hands and shook his head at her.

  “Funny. Now you have jokes.”

  “They seem nice.”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “They also seem like a bit much.”

  “You have no idea,” he said with a grateful smile.

  Her smile faded away.

  “She sounded pretty. What’s her name? Dara? I can see why you thought you were in love with her.”

  He raised a brow. “You could tell that from her voice?”

  “I have untold talents,” she said gravely.

  He snorted back a laugh. “I know you do.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment of quiet consideration.

  She reached out. Straightened his collar. “How do you feel about that? Mike and Dara having a baby?”

  He shrugged, wishing his nonchalant act had a little more polish on it.

  “It had to happen sooner or later. It is what it is.” It dawned on him that Amber might be demonstrating a tiny streak of jealousy. He narrowed his eyes. Took a closer look. “Why do you ask?”

  A pretty blush crept up from her neck and stained her cheeks. “Like you said, I don’t want the rug ripped out from under me. And now that I know that you’ve been vetted by the Harpers and are not a stalker or a serial killer, I’d really like to get to know you better. But not if you’re still in love with your brother’s wife.”

  His heart thumped him hard in the chest, catching his attention.

  Man, there was something about this one. He leaned closer, trailing his fingers along the sleek arch of her brow. Stroked her cheek. Stared into the steady warmth of her amazing brown eyes. Dipped his attention to her lips and back up again. Opened his mouth and let his truth do what it wanted.

  “I was a young knucklehead back then. I thought it was love. It was probably infatuation.”

  She tipped her head into his hand and shot him a rueful smile.

  “I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse. How would I ever know if you were in love with me?”

  There went his heart again, banging away in his chest.

  “You’ll know,” he said, his voice turning husky as he leaned closer. “We’ll both know.”

  The kiss was gentle this time. Gently lingering. And when she made one of those female sounds of pleasure and encouragement, he broke it off with all the reluctance in the world and rested his forehead against hers. Took a beat or two to allow his overheated blood to cool down again.

  Don’t blow this, Baldwin. Do. Not. Blow. It.

  That was the thing that really scared him—the fact that he could remain on his very best gentlemanly behavior and still never stand a real chance with Amber. Look at her. In addition to her obvious physical beauty and the inner beauty he’d begun to glimpse, she had a great kid and she’d done well for herself. Maybe not Paris Fashion Week well, as she would have liked, but well enough to afford a nice apartment like this and fill it with great furniture that he probably couldn’t have afforded even back during his glory days as a sous chef at a high-end restaurant out in Napa. And he was so far behind the eight ball here with her already. He wasn’t like Mike, who brought brains, a great career with a lot of money, charm, looks and endless confidence to the table. A single Mike would have been perfect for a woman like this. Hell, Mike had dated women like this. Left them brokenhearted when he married Dara. And Sean thought he could compete on this level? Really, genius? What did he think he could bring to the table? A well-cooked steak dinner followed by an orgasm or two?

  But he could up his game, couldn’t he? Just to get a new job started and the money rolling in again? He could swallow his pride and search for another job as a sous chef, for example. He could expand his job search to several of the small towns within, say, a thirty-mile radius of Journey’s End. There were plenty of restaurants out there. Plenty of opportunities to be either an executive chef or a sous chef, even if it wasn’t in the upscale restaurant of his wildest dreams.

  At this point, he just needed a job. A start. Something to get him headed in a direction that might make him a worthy partner of a woman like Amber. Something to make her proud.

  More importantly, something to make him proud.

  He wavered, certain that he was only fooling himself if he thought he could turn his Titanic of a career around after so many dings from what felt like every iceberg in the North Atlantic.

  But…

  Just as his low self-esteem threatened to tackle him to the ground and pummel him into oblivion, he experienced a tiny moment of divine grace. A whisper of encouragement from somewhere deep inside.

  She likes you, man. It’ll all work out. Just don’t blow it.

  So he stayed where he was, with his forehead touching hers and her amazing face cupped in his hands.

  “I’m going to go,” he said.

  “What? Why? You haven’t even seen my new bedroom yet.”

  He dropped his hands. Eased away from her body’s force field as he absorbed this particularly low blow.

  “And I intend to see it. Just not tonight. We should get to know each other a little better.”

  “Sean. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Ella’s with her father for the weekend. We have the whole place to ourselves. Do you have any idea how hot I am right now?”

  “Yeah,” he said sadly, taking one of her hands and pressing it to the front of his jeans, where his dick strained for her. “I’ve got some idea.”

  They stayed right where they were for a delicious moment, watching each other. Twining their fingers together and letting them go again. Stroking over his crotch.

  “Are you trying to make me insane?” she asked in her sultriest woman’s voice, the one that made his skin shiver.

  “Is it working?”

  “Very well.”

  “Good. Tell me what you’re doing for Christmas.”

  “I’ll be right here. Finishing the last of my unpacking.”

  “Not traveling to Atlanta or Sacramento?”

  “Absolutely not. I just moved and unpacked a little kid. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I need to catch my breath. And I want to bake.”

  “Bake?” He stilled his hand. “Bake what? As a chef, I approve all kitchen activities ahead of time.”

  “Macarons,” she said, laughing.

  “Really?” This woman was endlessly fascinating, wasn’t she? “Not chocolate chips?”

  “Chocolate chips are for amateurs.”

  “Oh, so you’re a baking snob. What flavors?”

  “Pistachio. Possibly lemon. Now that I’m no longer modeling, I can actually eat them after I make them. Instead of just sniffing them and giving them to other people.”

  “Keep talking,” he said, leaning in for another easy kiss and catching the delicious scent of berries on her hair. “I may have to marry you.”

  They laughed together. Switched their hands to her crotch by some silent mutual agreement.

  “And what are you doing for the holiday?” she said, her eyes drifting closed and her body melting as she sighed and leaned back against the cushions.

  “Skiing at the lodge with They Who Must Not Be Named.”

  They both laughed again.

  “You can name them.” She began to squirm, arching helplessly. “I can handle it. But when will you be back?”

  “Sunday night,” he murmured, shifting more of his attention to what he was doing. The moment seemed to require a bit more concentrated effort, so he unzipped her jeans, which luckily weren’t too tight. Slowly delved inside all that heat, savoring the sharp hiss of her breath as he stroked the slick cleft between her legs. “I expect you to miss me when I’m gone. A lot.”

&nbs
p; Her lids flicked all the way open again, allowing her to shoot him a challenging look with eyes that were glazed and feverishly bright. Sparkling brown crystal.

  “If you want me to miss you, then you’d better make sure you’re imprinted on my memory,” she said, beginning to thrust against him. “Don’t you think?”

  “I do think,” he said, swirling his finger around her engorged core and using his mouth to absorb her shocked cry of ecstasy.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Hello, fellow non-Harper.” Sean caught up with Reeve the following evening. They met on the wraparound porch of the massive lodge Isaiah had rented for the holiday weekend, which was on the grounds of the ski resort about an hour from Journey’s End. The lodge sat nestled in a hillside perch that was half hidden by the surrounding pines, an elegant stone and log monstrosity with double the normal share of windows, fireplaces and bedrooms. The snow gave them a brief reprieve, allowing them to savor the view for a few moments before frostbite set in. Lights blazed. White lights twinkled. Upbeat Christmas music piped in from invisible speakers. Sean had never stayed anywhere with such insane luxury; the general vibe felt as though Jay-Z had bought and remodeled Santa Claus’s North Pole installation and made it his own. Sean tipped his head down the way, where several members of the Harper family, including Nigel, Ada, James, his new wife Miranda, Edward, Ella, Daniel and his fiancée Zoya, stood. The rest of the extended Harper crew, including Miranda’s twin boys, Noah and Jonah, remained inside, where it was warm. “Maybe we should form our own outsider’s club for support. There aren’t many of us up here.”

  “Good idea,” she said, laughing as she raised her champagne glass. “Here’s to outsiders. And to a fun holiday weekend.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Sean clinked glasses with her, sipped and set his glass on the rail so he could rest his elbows and admire the tree- and snow-capped mountains. “So that was a little weird yesterday. I’m guessing you’ve heard the whole story from Edward by now.”

  He and Reeve had gotten to know each other well enough since Sean’s arrival on the scene that the that needed no explanation. While he wasn’t normally a person who engaged in personal discussions with friendly acquaintances, he and Reeve were uniquely qualified to evaluate the situation. And he really wanted to hear what she had to say.