by Sybil Bartel
Theodore jabbed his fork into his meat. “So, if you’re selling all that land, where’re you gonna live?”
I contemplated not answering. I did not owe any information about my life to the man who’d fathered me by seed then abandoned his responsibility. But the tense set of my angel’s shoulders next to me was making me rethink my position on silence.
Picking up my fork, I answered, not for him, but for her. “The land is parceled into its five original properties. I will retain one, maybe two.”
Theodore grunted in response, but did not look up from his plate. “How much land does that leave you?”
“Roughly ten thousand acres.” More than enough to live on.
Theodore’s head snapped up. “Ten thousand? What are you gonna do with all that land? Shit, how you gonna pay the property taxes? You got a job?”
My angel shifted in her seat and spoke in a strained voice. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
The sister let out a snort. “What, you don’t like watching your boyfriend get grilled by Dad.”
“Phoebe Ann Faraday!” The wife practically levitated out of her seat. “That is enough!”
“Oh my God.” The angel covered her face with her hands.
I reached under the table and put my hand on her leg. Purposely ignoring the sister, I addressed her stepfather. “I will work the land, and you do not need to concern yourself with my financial well-being.” Even after I divided up the cash reserves amongst the remaining River Ranch members still alive after the attack, I had more money from River’s estate than I could spend in two lifetimes.
Theodore leveled me with a look. Then he pointed his fork at my angel without taking his eyes off me. “Just so we’re clear, that’s your stepsister. I don’t know what went on in that compound, but outside those gates, we have laws about inbreeding.”
Angel choked on a bite of food.
I patted her back until she held a hand up, then I glared at Theodore. “I am not a heathen, nor am I ignorant. Neither of your stepdaughters are related to me by blood. I will not defend myself, actions nor otherwise, to you.”
“Well,” the sister muttered, picking up her wine. “He told you.”
“Jesus Christ, Phoebe,” Theodore snapped.
“What?” She looked at him innocently. “All I’m saying is—”
“I know what the hell you’re saying,” Theodore roared. “And I’ve had enough. I’ve indulged you and your attitude for years, but it stops now. This is my house, my table, and that’s my son you’re insulting. If you can’t respect that, leave.”
“I didn’t insult anyone.” Defiant, the sister glared at her stepfather as she drank the rest of her wine, then stood. “For the record, I only stated facts.” She glanced at her mother. “Nice dinner, Mom.” Her cutting gaze swung to her sister. “And you.” She shook her head. “Never thought you had it in you, sis.” She tipped her chin toward me and chuckled. “Good luck with that one.” With more attitude than I had seen in a female, she walked out.
My angel dropped her gaze to her lap. Her mother picked up her wine, and Theodore rubbed a hand over his face as his cell phone rang.
Glancing at the display, Theodore pushed his chair back and stood. “I need to take this. It’s the shop.” He walked through the same door as his stepdaughter.
The wife tried to smile at me. “I’m so sorry, Callan. Family dinners aren’t usually like this.”
My angel exhaled. “Mom, I love you, but yes they are. Phoebe’s always… Phoebe.”
The same as her daughter, heat colored the fair skin of the wife’s face. “Okay, so Phoebe and Ted can butt heads a bit, but she’s never walked out before.”
“Ted’s never yelled at her before. Which, if you ask me, is a miracle.” Angel looked at me. “I’m sorry she was so inappropriate.”
“You do not have to apologize for her.”
“Well, I am anyway. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I did not point out in front of her mother that her sister was right. I did not have pure intentions. Far from it.
The wife pushed her fork around her plate. “So, you two have met before?”
Angel sighed like she was tired of telling the story. “Yes, at the gas station by Ted’s shop. Remember that weekend I filled in for his receptionist?”
“Oh, yes, of course. That was so nice of you, sweetheart.”
She waved her mother off. “Anyway, I went for a Coke because the vending machine at the shop was out and…” She glanced up at me and a shy smile touched her full lips. “We ran into each other.”
The wife’s face took on a pained expression. “That’s quite a coincidence.”
I squeezed my angel’s leg. “You have a beautiful daughter, Mrs. Anders. She is hard to miss.”
Both my angel and the wife went still.
Then the wife cleared her throat, picked up her wine, and drank the whole glass in one breath. “Yes, well.” She looked toward the back door with desperation. “Ted shouldn’t be taking so long.” She threw her napkin on the table and abruptly stood. “I better go check to make sure everything is okay.” She hurried after her husband.
“Oh my God, Callan.” Her arms resting on the table, my gas station angel put her face in her hands. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
I gently pulled her hands away from her face. “I already did.”
She shook her head. “You do know this is….” She paused, as if searching for the right word. “This is messed up, right?”
“Then tell me to leave.” She did not pull away from my touch. She did not pretend to not know me. She was the one who asked me to stay. If she wanted me gone, all she had to do was speak the words, but I knew she would not. Her face became soft whenever she looked at me. She listened when I spoke, and whether she knew it or not, she leaned toward me whenever I addressed her. Telling her to tell me to leave was a test. One I would only give once.
“No,” she sighed. “I’m not going to tell you to leave. You deserve to be here. Ted is your father, and you deserve a chance to get to know him. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?” I knew exactly what she was referring to, but I wanted to hear her say the words. I wanted to know what she was really thinking, not what she thought she was supposed to be thinking.
She turned away. “You should get to know your dad, that’s all I’m saying.”
“I do not want to know a man who yells at his stepdaughter, puts his business first, and leaves a meal with his family.”
She held her hand up. “In his defense, Phoebe was out of line. Ted doesn’t usually speak to her that way. In fact, I’ve never heard him speak to her like that.”
“You cannot defend him to me, Angel.”
Her gaze shot to mine. “Angel?”
My time here was done. I was done with this meal and this house, but I wasn’t done with her. Her mother and Theodore would return, but I had no intention of staying here any longer. “Yes, Angel. I think of you as my gas station angel.” Before I could ask her to leave with me, she burst out laughing.
Rich and full, her laugh carried through the night, but its very presence gave me pause.
“What?” I demanded, suddenly on guard.
She picked her napkin up and dabbed at her eyes. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” She smiled wide. “I swear, it’s just….” She looked up at me and heat hit her cheeks. “I think of you as my gas station god.”
For the first time in years, the corner of my mouth tipped up.
Her lips formed a perfect O. “Ohhh,” she breathed out. “Don’t do that.”
As quickly as it appeared, my half smile disappeared. “Do what?”
“Almost smile.” She sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, just….” Her hand waved through the air. “Yeah.” She shook her head. “Don’t ever give me a full smile, I might faint.” She laughed sheepishly.
I held back another smile. “Noted.”
Her mo
ther and Theodore stepped back out onto the porch and took their seats.
No sympathy for the duress in my biological father’s expression, I glanced at his wife. “Thank you for your hospitality.” Squeezing my angel’s leg once, I stood. “I will take my leave.”
My angel looked up at me with wide eyes. “Where are you going?” She started to get up.
Not caring what her mother or Theodore thought, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Stay. Finish your meal. I will let myself out.”
She did not protest, but I could see in her expression her unasked question of whether she would see me again.
Squeezing her shoulder once, reassuring her she would see me another time, I nodded at her mother then took my leave.
My biological father never said a word.
MY HAND LANDED ON my car door handle, and his voice hit me like a shockwave.
“You are a mother,” his deep voice accused.
My heart slammed into my ribs, and I about jumped out of my skin. Turning, I saw Callan standing just past the reach of the spotlight Ted had installed on the corner of the garage last year.
“What? No.” I should’ve been terrified of him hiding in the dark, waiting for me, but I stupidly wasn’t. I was hoping to see him again. I’d wanted to see him again. I was beyond upset when he’d abruptly left. I’d held on to the memory of his shoulder squeeze all through dinner, hoping it had meant more than a simple gesture.
He tipped his chin toward my back seat. “You have a child carrier.”
I took a moment to digest the way he spoke. I couldn’t imagine growing up on a compound, let alone never having gone to school. “I’m a nanny.” I glanced at his clenched fists. “And a student.”
“Nanny?” The word sounded odd coming out of his mouth.
“Yes. I babysit a four-year-old boy while his mother works.” I’d shamelessly googled River Ranch after he’d left. While there was no mention of him or his name in any of the articles, they all painted a frighteningly bleak picture of a group of followers that were more prisoners than believers.
Callan’s gaze traveled to my hips. “Does that satisfy you?”
My stomach fluttered at his intense stare, at the sound of the word satisfy passing his full lips. But oh my God, I needed to get a grip. If the articles were to be believed, this man grew up with no schooling, with liberal access to any female on the compound whether she was willing or not, and with more weapons than a military ammunitions storage.
I swallowed, wondering if I would have the courage to walk away from him. “Um, well, it’s a paycheck, and the boy is sweet.” I loved being a nanny a thousand times more than nursing school, but babysitting wasn’t gainful long-term employment.
Still standing in the shadows, the line between his eyebrows deepened. “Who tends to you?”
Tends? “I’m an adult. I don’t need anyone to look after me. I work and I pay my own—”
“What man takes care of you?” he interrupted, demanding an answer I didn’t have.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. His change in behavior, his attitude, it should’ve been a red flag. His tone was a one-eighty from when he’d left, and I wasn’t sure I understood even a fraction of it, but I felt it. Like you feel a warm sunray slowly travel across your body, heating where it touches until it’s too hot to stand. If I was smart, I would’ve gotten in my car and driven away, but I didn’t.
Instead I bit my lip, stalling, searching for any kind of response that made sense.
He grew impatient and barked out another question. “Is Theodore tending to you all?”
Oh.
My God.
Is that what he thought? We were all… oh my fucking God. I’d read what supposedly happened on that compound. Inbreeding wasn’t even the worst of it, but Jesus.
His gaze penetrating, he waited for an answer.
I stared back, not quite believing he went there.
His chest rose and fell once, twice. “I asked you a question.”
“I heard you. I just can’t believe you asked that.”
“Why?”
I struggled for words that wouldn’t offend him, because I didn’t want to insult his upbringing, but wow. “It doesn’t work like that.” It was the best I could do.
“Explain,” he demanded.
I lost my patience. “Okay.” My hand popped up in a universal stop gesture. “First, you need to answer my question. Is this why you’re mad? You saw the child seat for the boy I babysit and you what? Assumed I had a kid, and that made you angry?” I told myself I was only asking because I needed to know what the hell I was dealing with, but if I was being honest with myself, this was more, so much more.
“You did not mention having a child.” He bit the words out.
“Because I don’t.” I studied at the frown etched across his face, but it didn’t recede. “What else?”
Holding me captive in his intense stare, it was as if he had to make himself speak. “You did not look at me like a taken women looks at a man.”
My heart leapt against my ribs. “I don’t know what that means to you exactly.” I was discovering there was no other way to be with him except incredibly blunt and honest.
“At the dinner table, you looked at me how a female looks at a man.”
I felt the blush heat my cheeks. “I’m not sure what you want me to say to that.” I should have denied it, but we’d both know I was lying.
“Answer my original question,” he demanded.
I inhaled. “Okay, first, he’s my dad.” I’d never called him that, but basically he was. Ted was the only father I’d ever known. And the thought of…. No, just no.
“You are not blood. He is a man. You are of child-rearing age.” Callan rattled off the excuses like we were having a sane conversation.
My mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Okay, that’s illegal.”
“Polygamy is illegal,” he corrected. “I did not ask if you were married. You wear no ring.”
It hit me all at once, and it was suddenly so obvious, but also so outrageous, I couldn’t comprehend it. Callan Anders was jealous. Jealous. Of the thought of me and another man.
Feeling like I’d been sideswiped, I swayed in the dark and inhaled, mentally trying to right myself. “If you know what’s illegal and what isn’t, then what are you really asking?” I needed to hear him say it.
His gaze unwavering, he didn’t even blink. “Who do you belong to?”
My stepbrother… asking in compound speak if I had a boyfriend. I shook my head and tried to skirt the topic. “I don’t need a man to take care of me.”
His nostrils flared with an inhale. “Your back tires are low on air, your shoulders are tense, your eyes are tired and you are taking care of another woman’s child.” He threw the words out as if they were abhorrent. “You need tending.”
Ted opened the front door. “Everything okay, Em? Your car not starting again?” He stepped out on the front porch.
I panicked. I didn’t want Ted, or Mom, to know that Callan had waited for me. Putting on a fake smile, I waved. “All good, thanks. Just lost my keys in the bottom of my purse.” I opened my door, carefully not looking to where Callan had been standing.
“Okay, sweetheart. See you soon.” Ted waved. “And get a smaller purse.”
With a silent curse, I got in my car. Reaching for my seat belt, I glanced to where Callan had been standing, but he was gone. The crushing thought that I might never see him again came and went, because something told me regardless of what I wanted, Callan Anders wasn’t finished with me yet.
My heart pounding like I’d run a marathon, I cranked the engine twice before it caught and drove home. By the time I pulled into my parking spot at my apartment complex, I was going straight to hell. Every immoral thought about my new stepbrother had filtered through my head until I was sure my entire family would know exactly what I’d been thinking next time I saw them. Especially Phoebe.
Groaning, I rested my foreh
ead against my steering wheel. “Jesus, Em. Get a grip.”
A knock sounded on the window, and I jumped back.
My heart in my throat, I only had a second to take in the now familiar blue eyes before my door opened.
“Are you injured?” His deep voice cutting through the night, Callan stared at me.
My hand went to my chest. “Did you follow me?” I sounded exactly as I felt, shocked, a little pissed and a whole lot of flattered.
“You were drinking,” he stated, as if I were the one missing all my fucking marbles.
“One drink, and this is stalking. You can’t follow a girl home.” I said the words I was supposed to, the words any self-respecting girl would say, but all I could think was, holy shit, he was here. I needed to stop this barreling train of eighty-seven kinds of fucked-up, but my stupid heart rate kicked into high gear and the thought of every fantasy I’d entertained on the way home tingled between my legs. Going for incredulous, only half hoping he would back off, I got out of my car and slammed the door shut. In my fervor to act pissed off instead of taken aback, I stumbled.
His hand shot out and he grasped my upper arm, righting me as his gaze cut to my chest. “You are a woman without protection.”
Awareness spread from his hold on me and traveled south. “I’m your stepsister,” I corrected, hoping like hell I sounded convincing, because suddenly, being alone with him in front of my apartment was a whole lot different than sitting next to him at Mom and Ted’s. The shock of seeing him again only slightly less than when I opened the door earlier tonight, I still felt the enormous weight of his situation, of what had brought him to Mom and Ted’s. But unlike earlier, when I felt as if everything I said needed to take into account his upbringing, this was a different animal, having had him follow me home. I was no longer looking at a man who’d lost his life to circumstance. I was staring at a six-and-a-half-foot muscled god who’d said he wanted to kiss me.
His predatory gaze cut to mine, and he dropped his hand. “We have already discussed this.”
“We needed reminding.” I needed reminding. Because with the way he looked at me, like no man had ever looked at me, like I was his next meal and his favorite Christmas morning—I no longer knew who I was trying to convince. Everything about him being here was wrong, but every second he stood in front of me made me wish my mother had never married Ted. And that made me feel guilty as hell. “You should go, Callan.” I bit my lip, wanting to take the words back.