My Not So Wicked Stepbrother (My Not So Wicked Series Book 1)

by Jennifer Peel

  I threw my phone on the couch cushion next to me, wondering if maybe I should let the hair chin grow out and tie a bead to it. That could be fun. I could ask my friends, “What’s hanging?”

  My phone rang before I could fully explore the possibilities of the fun conversations I could have about my chin hair. I picked up my phone to find it was Jenna calling from her mystery number. I bet she asked to use some random person’s phone at their comedy club, High on Laughs. It was a tribute to Colorado’s new marijuana law and all the potheads who now called our state home.

  “Okay, Jen. I forgive you.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that,” a gravelly masculine voice replied.

  “Uh . . . Brad?” Please let it be Brad. He was good at imitating voices.

  “It’s me, Sawyer. Mr. Ninety Touchdowns in a Season.”

  No. No. No. I mean anyone could know that stat. Right?

  “I’m sorry I’m not related to Cupid. No wings, and I haven’t worn diapers in years.”

  I was losing feeling everywhere except in my brain, which remembered all the embarrassing things I just said, including plucking my chin hair.

  “Are you there?” he asked.

  “Um . . . yes. Why are you calling me?”

  “I promised your mom I would.”

  Grr. Mom. “Whatever she bribed you with, I’m willing to pay double if you forget our little texting conversation and my number.”

  He laughed the most fantastically beautiful laugh I’d ever had the pleasure of hearing. “Are you sure? The price was pretty steep.”

  Oh my gosh, she had resorted to paying people? I had been joking, as in figurative speech. “How much?” I internally cringed.

  “Cinnamon rolls every week for a year.”

  “Oh.”

  “I refused the offer,” he said hastily.

  “I thought you said you were smart. My mom’s cinnamon rolls are to die for. So, why are you contacting me then?”

  He thought for a second. “I wanted to see for myself if it was true.”

  “What?”

  “Well, your mom made it sound as if you could walk on water.”

  Of course she did. “You know you can too?”

  “What? How?”

  “If I tell you, do you promise to never ever reveal our little discussion even under threat of torture?”

  “What if someone is pulling out my fingernails?”

  “They grow back.”

  “You’re harsh.”

  Extreme measures for extreme possible embarrassment. “Walking on water is pretty amazing knowledge.”

  “True. But what if I don’t want to forget your number?”

  Uh, why wouldn’t he? “You don’t even know me.”

  “That’s why I’m calling.” He thought for a moment. “How about this, in exchange for learning how to walk on water, I will forget everything except your number and that you think I’m god-like. And perhaps I can negotiate how you came to that conclusion and how you know about my football record.”

  I fell to the side of my couch. I think I was literally dying from embarrassment. My heart was beating erratically enough for me to consider dialing 911. On the bright side, it would give me a good excuse to end this call, and he may even take mercy on me if I ended up in the ER or died. Either option sounded fantastic right about now.

  “What kind of negotiations are we talking about?” I managed to squeak out through heart palpitations.

  “Nothing too painful. You only have to admit to stalking me on, let me guess, Facebook, and tell me your secret to walking on water. In return, I promise I won’t ever stare at your chin hair and I might confess that I also looked you up on Facebook.”

  I sat up. That did not make me feel better. Oh no, if anything, this was worse. Cardiac arrest, here I come. I had the most embarrassing pictures and videos on Facebook. Everything from bad Spice Girls karaoke and burping out the alphabet song, to Halloween pictures where I’d dressed up like a bowl of Froot Loops, or when Jenna and I were a bra. I was the left saggy boob. And I wondered why nobody found me to be a catch. I didn’t mind everyone else in the world looking at my life in pictures, but not him. Not after looking at Sawyer’s profile filled with professional pictures of him doing things like skiing or graduating from the University of Houston College of Optometry. Not to mention all the gorgeous women he’d dated over the years. They had names like Candy and Sasha. He even looked fabulous blowing out his birthday candles. No one should look good doing that. Needless to say, it all made me feel self-conscious. Maybe I should feel like that more often. I might get more dates.

  “You’re stalking me on Facebook?” I homed in on that factoid.

  “I think the deal was for you to admit that first.”

  I melted into my comfy leather couch to help me get through the trauma I was experiencing. “See . . . the thing is, my mom, as wonderful as she is, has this awful habit of setting me up with less-than-scrupulous men, so I was preparing myself in case I had to get a restraining order.”

  “Understandable. But why is she setting you up when according to your Facebook profile, you are in quite a few relationships already. It’s stiff competition. The Pillsbury Doughboy, Duncan Hines, Dr. Pepper, Mr. Pibb—”

  “I only see Mr. Pibb if the Dr. isn’t available. And the Doughboy’s real name is Poppin’ Fresh. No one really knows that.” It was sad that I did, but bread would always be my first love.

  “Consider me informed. Thank you. But what about Tony the Tiger and Captain Crunch? Do you see them at the same time?”

  “All the time.”

  He laughed. “Should I ask about Betty Crocker? I’m not judging.”

  I sighed with content. She was my favorite. “Betty and I have a special relationship. I go to her when all the guys have let me down.”

  “Is that often?”

  I paused, not sure how to respond. “Are you asking how often Betty and I hook up?” Based on the pictures I saw of his girlfriends he probably thought I should dump Betty altogether.

  He cleared his throat. “No. No,” he scrambled to say. “I meant, do men disappoint you often?”

  “Are we talking about my guys or guy-guys?”

  “Guy-guys.”

  “Well . . . how do I put this?” I didn’t want to sound bitter, because I honestly wasn’t. There were perks to being the friend, never the girlfriend. I never had to worry about silly things like three-month anniversaries or if I had garlic on my pizza, because there was no one to kiss. I’d be willing to stock up on mint gum, because I really did like garlic. But no matter how fresh my breath was or non-felonious my dates were, I always managed to end up in the friend zone. “I tend to keep my expectations low unless it’s Colonel Sanders or my dad, so the answer is no.”

  He thought about that for a second. “So you like chicken, your dad, and cereal. Anything else?”

  The fact that I hadn’t scared him away yet surprised me. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg, but I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to me ramble about why I love spreadsheets and soccer.”

  His masculine laugh filled my ears. “You say the most unexpected things. I can’t think of anything I’d like to do better right now than to hear more about you.”

  This couldn’t be real. “Did my mom already bring you cinnamon rolls?”

  “Not one.”

  I sank back against my couch, more confused. But what the heck, my shows were all in reruns. “Okay, spreadsheets or soccer first?”

  “You choose.”

  I started with spreadsheets since that tied into my job and all the data I constantly analyzed that for some reason brought me ridiculous amounts of joy. From there we moved on to soccer, which turned into a full-blown sports conversation. He was more of a football and hockey guy. We ended up talking about lots of different subjects, including our families. He had an older brother and his parents were divorced. Like me, he was also a lover of the great outdoors and his favorite food was pa
ncakes. I could get on board with that. He sounded intelligent, unmarried, and supposedly had never been arrested, which made me wonder what was wrong with him. But the more I talked to him the more I liked him, even at two in the morning when I could barely keep my eyes open, but neither one of us was in any hurry to end the call. For me it was like talking to your best friend who you never knew existed, and all you wanted to do was catch up with him.

  However, I did have to be at the plant at six. I hated to end our marathon call that was only paused when I had to pee—twice. Eight hours is a long time. “I suppose I should tell you the secret to walking on water and let you get some sleep.” I yawned, already curled up in my bed. I had even brushed my teeth while he seduced me with tales of disgusting eye appointments, like removing parasites from patients’ eyes.

  “Wait,” he sounded panicked.

  “You don’t want to know?”

  “I do . . . but I want you to tell me in person.” He paused. “Would you like to go on a date?”

  Chapter One

  One Year Later

  Sawyer rested his hand on my thigh under the crowded table while I thanked my lucky stars that he picked a firm spot. A few inches up and it would have been more like Jell-O with a massive dollop of whipped cream. While his touch made my heart skip an entire song’s worth of beats, I stared up into his amber eyes that always managed to play between mischievous and charming schoolboy. I resisted reaching up and running my hands through the curls in his dark hair that danced above his ears. As if he knew I wanted to, he flashed me his pearly whites that tinged in the low lighting of Sage Café, one of our favorite hangouts. For a few blissful seconds, only he and I existed. What I wouldn’t have done to stay in our own little world. We could have called it Sawma, Emyer, or Semma. Any combination of our names would do, as long as it was only a population of two.

  Sawyer gave my thigh a little squeeze. “How was your day, Em?”

  Instead of my fingers frolicking through his beautiful locks, I ran my hand through my sweaty, matted down hair that was once referred to as the color of dirt by a date. The hard hat required at work and then soccer practice in the summer sun hadn’t done much for my medium length mop. “It was—”

  “Y’all are so cute,” an alluring Southern accent interrupted. The new office manager at the eye center where Sawyer worked, with her perfect figure and gorgeous blonde hair, sat across from us. Sawyer had invited her to our monthly dinner with friends, to my dismay. “How long have you two been together?” Shelby, I believed was her name, asked with a hint of disappointment.

  Sawyer removed his hand from my thigh in a hot second and without even thinking we both scooted our chairs away from each other.

  Kellan, Sawyer’s best friend since high school, grabbed his midsection and laughed. “They aren’t a couple.” He pointed between Sawyer and me. “But for siblings they’re pretty cute.” Kellan smirked.

  Jenna gave me a sympathetic grin from across the table while I tried to hide my cringe.

  “Brother and sister?” Shelby, who now was getting excited, asked.

  “Stepbrother and stepsister.” Kellan was happy to clarify for her through his fits of laughter.

  Sawyer cleared his throat before reaching for his ice water. “Em and I are friends.”

  Ugh. The dreaded F-word. The past year’s events had landed me smack dab in the middle of not only the friend zone, but also the twilight zone. All I could say was my last name had struck again. This time with a freaking vengeance.

  I flagged down our server. “More Dr. Pepper, please. And keep them coming.” I needed a sugar coma, stat. Might as well waste all the calories I’d burned during my five-mile run earlier this morning and the running I’d done with my girls during soccer practice.

  Shelby leaned forward and put her hand on the table in front of Sawyer. I took notice of her long, tan, delicate, and manicured fingers. One finger stuck out. The wedding one had a stark white tan line around it. Huh? Was she recently off the market? She wasn’t exactly acting like it.

  “So, Sawyer.” She flashed him some seriously white teeth. I almost reached for my sunglasses, except I had forgotten them at home.

  Sawyer gave the epitome of Southern charm his attention. With her free hand, Shelby tossed her golden tresses and batted her baby blues. Oh, she was good. I had to wonder, though, if her eyelashes were fake. Those lush babies made it look as if two beautiful black butterflies landed on her eyes and were flapping furiously.

  “You know, I just moved to town.” She bit her lip in that sexy don’t-you-want-a-taste way. “And I was wondering if you would be willing to show me around?”

  I grabbed my tall, cool glass of Dr. Pepper and began to down it while watching the man I loved get stalked by a jungle cat in heat. Okay, she was lovely. But that made it worse.

  Sawyer cleared his throat and stretched his neck from side to side like he did when he was thinking. What was he waiting for? She was absolute perfection, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I could tell she was nice. Like, I would have tried to get to know her if she wasn’t eyeing my man like he was a sundae drenched in the deepest, darkest fudge and she wanted to swim in it before tasting every drop. Get in line, sister. I’d been standing on the diving board for almost a year waiting to take the plunge. Me and every single woman in Edenvale. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. He obviously had unrealistic expectations. I’d seen him turn down every beautiful woman this side of the mountains in the last year. Maybe this Southern Belle would catch his fancy.

  I began gulping the Dr. Pepper to help me cope. Too bad my chug fest didn’t account for the carbonation. My favorite beverage went down the wrong way. It was all I could do not to spray the table with my backwashed drink. I began to splutter and cough violently, all while praying it didn’t come out my nose. It had happened. Jenna had it on video.

  Sawyer turned his attention from Shelby and jumped into action by patting my back. “Em, are you okay? Lift your arms,” he said through his smile. This, unfortunately, was a pretty regular occurrence around him.

  When I didn’t raise my arms, Sawyer took the liberty and lifted them for me while shaking his head. “Maybe you should start seeing Mr. Pibb again; he doesn’t have as much kick.”

  It took me a moment to catch my breath before I could respond. “You know how I feel about the doctor.”

  Sawyer placed my arms gently by my sides; his eyes were smiling.

  As I did all too often, I found myself gazing into those pretty amber orbs wishing he knew how I really felt about the doctor and that he could find it in himself to reciprocate. By doctor, I meant the optometrist staring at me, not the tasty beverage. But Sawyer had never made a move after our first meeting.

  Sawyer tapped my nose in a brotherly fashion. “I know you’re hopelessly devoted to him.” Truer and more disturbing words had never been spoken.

  I swallowed and smiled. “Maybe we should order.”

  “Good idea.” Sawyer picked up his menu. “Do you want to order the cilantro lime quesadillas and I’ll get the caprese grilled cheese sandwich so we can share?” He knew me so well.

  “Perfect.” I turned from him to meet several sets of eyes staring at us with interest, especially the beautiful blonde who was eyeing us carefully.

  “Did you two grow up together?” Shelby asked.

  Sawyer and I both vehemently shook our heads while I silently begged her not to ask any more questions.

  Jenna saved the day. “Hey, Em, are you still up for doing our gender reveal party next week at the club?”

  “Yes!” I flashed a grateful grin at my best friend. “Wait until you see what I’ve come up with. Wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

  Brad and Jenna scrunched their faces at me.

  “Believe me, it will be mild compared to what you’re going to see come flying out of your baby.”

  Brad turned green. Poor guy had the worst gag reflex. It only took someone pretending to vomit f
or him to toss his cookies. Jenna rubbed her husband’s back. “Breathe.”

  I couldn’t believe my best friends were procreating. Jenna had had a tough time convincing Brad that they should. Brad had some serious reservations, as he himself was a big kid, and that gag reflex thing. But he loved Jenna and they babysat Jenna’s sister’s baby last year for the weekend and survived. Brad only threw up twice. So Brad agreed they could try. Honestly, I think the blizzard we had back at the beginning of February when we were snowed in for a few days had something to do with it. I expected a huge baby boom in Edenvale come November.

  “Y’all are having a baby?” Shelby beamed at the pair. “I love babies.” She turned her sights back on Sawyer with her unnatural lashes flapping again as if she were asking him to father a few for her.

  Sawyer gave her an uneasy smile and clapped his hands together. “Is everyone ready to order? I’m starved.”

  Goddess Divine’s smile faded with confusion as if this sort of thing had never happened to her before. I was confused on her behalf. She was like cotton candy perfection in her baby blue off-the-shoulder sundress. Why Sawyer didn’t want to devour her and let her melt in his mouth I had no idea.

  I felt so bad for her, I swallowed my pride—not that I had much left after my soda incident—and decided I should help her to feel included. I didn’t want her to think us Westerners lacked hospitality.

  “Where are you from, Shelby?”

  She sat up straighter, which I didn’t think was possible. I had already noted her impeccable posture. My guess was she had been to finishing school and was probably a debutante. Which made me wonder why she was an office manager for an eye clinic. Whatever she was, she made me feel like a slouch. I tried pulling my shoulders back like hers, but that expended way too much energy.

  Some of Shelby’s enthusiasm returned. “I’m from Roswell, Georgia,” she said in her refined Southern drawl.

  “What brings you to Colorado?”