by Rona Jameson
Fallon had locked her bedroom door and, unless she opened it, I wasn’t getting inside.
“Fallon,” I hissed, “let me in.”
“No. I hate you.”
Those last three words wounded me, and even knowing she didn’t mean them, it still hurt deeply. I dropped my forehead to the door. “That’s not fair, Fallon. You know I love you. I was standing up for you, but you were the one to leave.” I pressed against the door with the palm of my hands. “Please let me in. You’re all I have.”
There was silence and then I heard the key turning in her door. I nearly fell inside when she opened it suddenly.
I pulled myself up short and snapped my eyes shut when I saw Fallon standing before me in a hot pink bra and panties. “Fallon!” I hissed in shock.
“What? You wanted me to open the door. So I did.”
My eyes narrowed into slits as I glared at Fallon standing there without a care in the world, hands on her hips, glaring back. I knew she was hiding the hurt behind a devil-may-care attitude, but it was too much for me to see her in her underwear. It was probably more than girls wore to the beach, but she was my sister!
To keep my eyes from straying over her curves, I made myself busy and closed her bedroom door. “I’m locking it again so Uncle Frank doesn’t walk in.” Uncle Frank had done that on one or two occasions. He never respected a closed door.
“I’m sorry I was angry with you,” Fallon whispered, blinking back tears. “I’m not really. I know you were on my side.”
Not letting her state of undress bother me, I tugged Fallon against me and hugged her hard and tight. “I’ll always be on your side. Leon was just being an idiot because he has a date and wanted to talk about…things.”
Fallon tilted her face up to mine and frowned, then a slow smile appeared on her face. “He wanted to talk about the birds and the bees, huh?” Now her face split into a huge grin.
Embarrassment crawled up my neck. “Don’t even say that.” I covered her mouth with my hand while her eyes danced with amusement. “I mean it, Fallon. You are never dating.”
Fallon rolled her eyes as she wiggled out of my arms and took a step back. “I’m sixteen, Rogan.” She giggled and looked flushed. “Mom has already had that talk with me, so I know all about it.”
Uncomfortable with the way our conversation had gone, I reached up and rubbed my neck. “Put some clothes on,” I snapped, afraid of the way my heart raced when my eyes ran over her.
“Honestly?” She huffed, and shoved her arms into a pink robe. “Better?” She glared at me.
The robe did nothing to hide how beautiful she was. She was going to have to wear a sack to hide from all the boys who would get it into their heads to touch her. But I was the only one who knew how beautiful she was on the inside, and I hated that one day she would be with someone who’d know her better than I did. It bothered me more than it should, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
Fallon wasn’t only my sister, she was my best friend and the person I relied on the most, and I knew she relied on me just as much. She made me smile. She made me so damn mad I could spit fire. But heck if I knew how to separate those two emotions.
One day that was going to happen, maybe when I went off to college. Fallon was still going to be in high school for another year. Who would she have when I left? I knew she talked to Julia. Julia was her only female friend, although I was sure Julia only initially became friends with Fallon because of my friends and me. Julia pretended to be into me to get at Leon. It was so obvious it was embarrassing.
Fallon cleared her throat and smirked. “You went off into Rogan’s world.” Shaking her head, she stepped away. “I’m going to take a shower.” She raised a brow when I didn’t move, and then a teasing light entered her sparkling emerald green eyes.
She dropped the robe, and gave me her back. Reaching behind, Fallon unclipped her bra, letting it drop to the floor to my stunned disbelief.
It took a moment to get my brain working and realize I gawked at my sister, who grinned at me over her shoulder. I narrowed my eyes, and cursed under my breath when I felt a reaction below the waist.
I panicked and got the hell out of her bedroom.
The little tease!
Fallon had known I would run the moment she’d started stripping, but heck, she really had to stop doing that in front of me now that we were older. Plus I had to admit I was a regular horny seventeen-year-old boy.
No way in hell should I react to my sister like I had.
My sister!
I’m going to hell.
My thoughts had certainly not been brotherly when she stood before me, all that sun-kissed skin on display for my eyes, and I had looked—more than I ever should have.
Fallon
My heart pounded against my breastbone as I closed the bathroom door. What was I thinking? I couldn’t forget the look on Rogan’s face when I took my bra off. He’d looked at me in a way that wasn’t allowed—in a way that made my body tingle and caused blood to rush around and into places I had no idea could feel hot and swollen.
I stepped into the shower and let the warm spray pound down against me. I hoped the images on replay in my mind would disappear and I could go back to Rogan being just Rogan, my brother. My thoughts about him weren’t sisterly, and hadn’t been for a while.
The palm of my hands rested against the shower wall while the water continued to pound down, plastering my hair from the top of my head, and down my back.
Maybe there was something wrong with me—there had to be. Nothing made sense when I imagined myself with anyone else. The only time anything made sense was when I was with Rogan. We’d always been together and now that we were getting older, I was scared things would change beyond my control. Things had already started to change—the way Leon hadn’t wanted me around, the way Rogan looked at me, the way I reacted when his gaze was on me.
I understood why Leon had reacted the way he had. It didn’t mean it hurt any less.
With a flick of my wrist, I turned the water off and, wrapping a bath sheet around my shivering body, stepped out of the shower. In my bedroom, I quickly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, my feet bare, then spread out on top of my bed with an old photo album I kept in my nightstand. It was filled with pictures of Rogan and me, taken over the years. I often got it out to look through, especially when I felt down or lost. Or when I needed a reminder of the history we shared and the reason why I should never think of Rogan in any way but sisterly.
One picture stood out in the book. It was taken three years ago at the beach. We had our arms around each other and Dad had made some funny comment that made us laugh. Rogan’s smile lit up the picture, his eyes sparkling with amusement, his dark hair falling into his left eye, and his smile so wide that I traced his full lips with a finger.
A throat cleared. “I love that picture.” Rogan took a hesitant step forward, and then with more confidence, crawled onto the bed. He settled alongside me, his eyes focused on the book in front of me.
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, unable to bring myself to meet his eyes. “It was a good vacation.” I played with the corner of the book, and closing my eyes, I whispered, “I’m sorry about before. I never should have done that.” My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Rogan said in a voice so quiet I couldn’t decide whether he was angry with me or not. “I think it might be for the best if we forget about it.”
I quickly blinked back the unexpected tears to get rid of them, and nodded. “I need to pack.”
I knew Rogan watched me from beneath his lowered lids as I moved from the bed and over to the closet. We should talk more about what happened. I really didn’t like Rogan’s suggestion of forgetting about it. But if we talked, I would end up in tears and that wouldn’t do.
“I won’t mention it again.” I swallowed hard and hoped Rogan accepted my word.
“I guess I better go pack too.” I heard, rather than saw, Rogan
crawl off my bed and cross the room. As he jostled the doorknob, he said, “Just remember we’re camping, not staying at a five-star hotel.”
I gasped and quickly turned. Rogan ducked out of the way just as I sent a book sailing across the room. He laughed and so did I, and I felt like a weight had lifted from my chest.
“I happen to love camping,” I shouted as Rogan smirked and closed the door.
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OTHER BOOKS BY AUTHOR
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Book 6: Love in Game (Kasey & Felicity)
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Book 4: Kissing Cousins (Rachel & Alexander)
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Book 7: A Bakers Delight (Sofia & Shane)
Book 8: A Cowboy for Christmas (Olivia & Geary)
Book 9: A Secret Affair (Joshua & Mallory)
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Book 11: The Pregnant Professor (Jaxon & Poppy)
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Romantic Suspense
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Holiday Season
Kissing Under the Mistletoe
A Soldier’s Christmas
Jingle Bells
Written as Rona Jameson
Butterfly Girl
Come Back to Me
Summer at Rose Cottage
Tears in the Rain
Twenty Eight Days
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Cover Graphics and Title Design: Robin Harper, Wicked by Design
Internal Sketches: Abigail Higson
Editors: Nadine Winningham and Sirena van Schaik
Proofreaders: Nadine Winningham and Lynne Garlick
Advance Reader Copies: Kathrin Magyar, Jo Magson, Laura Ward, Sonya Covert
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
English born Rona Jameson is an author of romance who currently resides in Ireland with her husband, four children, one dog, three cats, and a guinea pig named Merry. She’s been writing since 2013 as Lexi Buchanan, which is where you can find her more explicit writing.
Follow on social media:
Website: http://ronajameson.com
Email: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Full Page Image
Contents
Copyright
Reviews
Dedication
Authors Note
1. Prologue – 3 years ago
2. Wren
3. Rafael
4. Wren
5. Rafael
6. Wren
7. Rafael
8. Wren
9. Rafael
10. Wren
11. Rafael
12. Wren
13. Rafael
14. Wren
15. Rafael
16. Wren
17. Rafael
18. Wren
19. Rafael
20. Wren
21. Rafael
22. Wren
23. Rafael
24. Wren
25. Rafael
26. Wren
27. Rafael
28. Wren
29. Rafael
30. Wren
31. Rafael
32. Wren
33. Rafael
34. Wren
35. Rafael
36. Wren
37. Rafael
38. Wren
39. Rafael
40. Wren
41. Rafael
42. Wren
43. Rafael
44. Wren
45. Rafael
46. Wren
47. Rafael
48. Wren
Epilogue 1
Epilogue 2
Full Page Image
Tears in the Rain
Tears in the Rain Teaser
Dear Reader
Other books by Author
Acknowledgements
About the Author