Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!)

by Kim Linwood

  Right now, though, it’s all mine.

  I walk down the stairs, avoiding the creakiest boards and soaking in the feeling of being home. I’ve always loved this time. Living in a house with both family and staff—who were really more like family—you get used to there always being people around. Times like these were rare.

  Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night and go exploring. Walking the house in darkness, all alone. Or sneaking out onto the roof to watch the stars.

  I vow to do that at least once before I leave.

  God knows I’m used to being alone now, but it was a novelty back then.

  Walking into the kitchen, I stop and stare. Everything is more or less where it used to be, but it’s all fancy and new. The burnished steel appliances stand out next to the weathered old wood and tiles, but even those have been polished and repaired. It looks like a picture from an Island Living magazine. I want to hate it, but it’s gorgeous.

  Opening the fridge door takes a solid yank, but it’s worth the effort when I spy all the cold cuts. Jackpot. Used to store brand bologna and shrink-wrapped cheese, this is like gazing into the promised land of sandwich making.

  Not just cold cuts, either. The fridge is jam-packed with all sorts of goodies. It’s tempting to take advantage of the well-stocked kitchen and make something, especially if that’s actually homemade spicy chili sauce I see in the jar back there, but there’s no way I can get away with it before someone notices. I grab a few things and set to work, piling it all high on bread I bet was actually baked here on the island.

  I wolf down half, and wash it down with ginger beer. Spicy and bubbly, it tickles my tongue. A tiny burp escapes. Too much, too fast.

  Oh, what the hell.

  Opening up my airways, I let the carbonated pressure build. Hand on my stomach, I open my mouth and let ’er rip. The resulting blast impresses even me, and I raise an arm, turning to the crowd and thanking my invisible audience for their support.

  Actual clapping wasn’t part of the plan.

  “Bra-vo!”

  Hunter steps out of the shadows. He looks all rumpled and sexy standing there with his pajama pants hanging low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of muscle. I squeeze my eyes closed and will the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

  It doesn’t happen.

  I don’t want to look, but I do. I don’t want to feel all warm and tingly, but I do that too.

  “Midnight snack, Sarah?” he asks as he saunters into the kitchen.

  Picking up my bottle, he gives it a shake to see how much is left, and tips it up, lips wrapping around the mouth and taking a few deep swallows.

  I grab it back with a huff. “Hey! That’s mine.”

  He looks around. “No. No, I’m pretty sure this is my kitchen. Which makes that my soda.” He picks up the other half of my sandwich. “And this my food.”

  “Possession is nine tenths of the law.” I grab for the sandwich but he blocks me, grabbing my arm instead.

  This close, his masculine scent teases my senses. His chest is right in front of me, a smooth, broad canvas of golden skin and inky designs. Given our history, I’d have felt something for him even if he looked like a totally normal guy, but he’s not. He’s rich and gorgeous.

  I’m broke and awkward.

  When he steps even closer, I find myself trapped against the counter. Above his chiseled jaw, his lips are twisted in a cocky smirk. When I finally bring myself to meet his eyes, I find them focused downwards. Following his gaze, I realize with a start that my robe is loose. From where he’s standing, he has a straight view down the wide V-neck of my shirt.

  I tug my robe shut. “Didn’t get your fill of looking earlier?”

  “Nope. Too much fabric. This is much better.”

  So much for trying to shock him. “Wow, that’s some powerful honesty.”

  “Thank you.” He shrugs, and the play of muscle under his skin almost distracts me from how much of an ass he’s being. “I mean, I can play the game if you want, but you’ve already pretty much signed up to fuck me, so I don’t see the point.”

  Holy shit.

  “You can’t seriously mean that,” I sputter.

  “I know I won’t sleep with everyone—that just seems unnecessary, even for me—but come on, you don’t think I could knock on any of those doors tonight and spend a few very pleasant hours?”

  “I know of at least one you’d find slammed in your face.”

  “Yours doesn’t count, obviously. You’re down here.”

  I’m not sure what’s more annoying, his attitude, or that he’s not totally wrong. Truthfully, even though I’m here to get my home back, it was never Hunter that I blamed for my situation. No, my mother and his father did that one all on their own.

  Do I resent him for having what’s mine? Absolutely. Do I still feel a twinge of humiliation at finding out he hadn’t returned my feelings after we graduated? Oh yeah.

  But do I hate him? It would be easier if I did.

  Though, if he keeps talking, he might solve that for me.

  He watches me closely, as he finishes my sandwich. “So if not to get a piece of this,” he says as he gestures to himself. “Why did you sign up?”

  To conquer your kingdom and reclaim it as my own, usurper! No, better to go with the planned cover story. “I’ve always loved these sorts of shows, I guess. Plus I’ve always liked traveling.”

  “Netflix and Greyhound are cheaper.”

  “But then I’d be missing out on all this witty banter!” I snap.

  Hunter steps back and laughs. “Oh, you’re fun. I’m keeping you.”

  Smile, nod and run away while you still can! I shout to myself in vain. “I’m going to lose everything now. I’ll be the biggest losery loser you’ve ever seen and you’ll have no choice but to send me away and find some other poor girl to torment.”

  “I don’t think you mean that.” He wipes a crumb off his lip and smiles like he’s still hungry and wants dessert. “I think we’ll be spending plenty of time together, Sarah.”

  Oh, God. He’s right. I can’t lose or I’ll be sent home before I can find the deed. It hadn’t really sunk in exactly how much time I’d have to be spending with Hunter if I do well enough to stick it out.

  I tighten my robe and turn to leave. “I’m going back to bed. I wouldn’t recommend knocking on my door.”

  “That’s fine, there are nine more.” His words slice right through my gut, spilling out all sorts of feelings I don’t want to examine. “Sweet dreams.”

  Yeah, right.

  Liz

  In the morning, breakfast is served on the terrace. Amanda waves when she spots me, and points at an empty chair next to her and Megan. They’ve grabbed a table along with some of the other non-Barbies. I pour myself a coffee, generously loading it with milk and sugar, before setting it down to claim my spot.

  “Try the fruit salad!” Amanda gushes. “I don’t even know what this green thing is, but it’s so good.”

  Megan nods in agreement, mouth full of eggs.

  I grin. It’s nice to see fresh fruit that isn’t an apple or a pear for a change. I pile my plate high with everything in sight, making sure to grab an extra slice of toast.

  Heather, one of Elena’s sidekicks, looks down her sculpted nose at me and plucks a yogurt cup out of a bowl of ice. “I suppose if I were you, I’d be pigging out too.”

  “Oh? Why’s that?” It’s a measure of my maturity that I don’t push up my nose and make squealing noises at her.

  She smiles, flicking a speck off her shoulder. “Well, if you’re only going to be here a couple of days anyway, what does it hurt? Might as well live it up while you can.”

  Bitch. I’m going to end up wanting to win this thing just to beat the smirk off her face. Putting her out of my mind for now, I go back to my seat.

  Conversations buzz around me, but none of them involve me directly, so I study the outside of the house. My grandfather’s office used to be on
the far end, right off the living room on the first floor. It’s possible that things have been moved around, but the pictures and paintings seem to be about where I remember them. There’s just a little hope the deed still hangs where it always did. But if it doesn’t, I’ll go through the whole house if I have to. Room by room.

  Sometime in the early 1700s, a distant ancestor traded his pirate flag in for a badge. Smart enough to settle down before he lost his ill-gotten fortune, he brought his family over from France and staked his claim with a couple of partners. The rest met various, rather suspicious fates, though time has probably made the story more interesting than it was. Since then, the island has been in our family, generation after generation. Sometimes rich, sometimes poor, but always ours.

  Until ten years ago.

  Mom used to be happy here after Dad met her in Cancun and brought her home as his wife. But when we lost him for good, things changed. I’d thought her marriage to Campbell a few years later would fix it, but instead she turned bitter. She’s always denied it, but I think she was happy when he kicked us out. Relieved to leave that part of her life behind.

  It doesn’t really matter anymore. What matters is that according to local property law, she shouldn’t have had the legal right to transfer it to the Campbells. It was never hers to begin with.

  It was mine.

  The camera crew starts to circle, and in a second I see why. Hunter strolls out of the house, gorgeous as always. His deliciously worn jeans hang low, and his white linen shirt is untucked with enough buttons open to show off his chest. On some guys it would look cheap, but he owns it. His every move screams self-confidence.

  He smiles, walking around the tables and making conversation. A shoulder touch here. A whisper in the ear there. His eyes lock with mine as he dips down to say something to Bianca. She puts a hand on his arm and laughs.

  Jealousy rears its ugly green head. I look away.

  Slowly, chair by chair, he comes closer to our table until he kneels down between me and Amanda. “So how are my two favorite castaways today?”

  Amanda giggles. “Much better, thanks to you.”

  “And you, Sarah? Sleep well, I hope?” He cups my hand, lightly stroking just behind where my thumb and index finger meet. I feel it all the way down to my toes.

  The cameras are on, so I can’t tell him to go jump off a cliff. I duck my head, knowing I’m blushing and go with it. Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, letting it pop back out, plump and red. “Everything’s been wonderful, Hunter, but it’s so hot at night.” My fingers trail over my collarbone, fiddling with the pendant that hangs down between my breasts. “It’s so cold back home, and I didn’t pack anything light enough.” I lean forward to whisper so nobody else can hear. “It’s a good thing you didn’t come knocking. Who knows what you might’ve seen.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. He probably knows I’m playing it up for the cameras, but his eyes darken, and I see him swallow. “Sorry to hear that. I know of a perfect solution, but I’d have to show you.” Hunter picks a banana fig off my plate and peels it, one slow strip after another, while watching my face with a sexy, mischievous grin.

  It’s my turn to swallow, but I keep my head cool enough to quickly dart my hand out just as he finishes peeling to take it back. “Stop taking my food.”

  He laughs, then suddenly goes quiet as I suck the tip into my mouth. His eyes widen even more than his grin does. I hold for just second, making sure he’s watching, then I take a hard enough bite that the clack of my teeth is audible, then chew while raising an eyebrow at him.

  He winces, but the smile never leaves his face. Raising his hand to his mouth, he makes a point of licking the residual sweetness off his fingers while I finish my reclaimed piece of fruit. Even after he’s risen to move on, he throws me stormy glances over his shoulder.

  Amanda looks at me suspiciously, and Megan’s jaw is practically on the table. My face is on fire, but I want to laugh out loud.

  At first, I was relieved he didn’t recognize me, but hurt at the same time. Now, I’m kinda starting to love it. I can be as flirty as I want, without all of the baggage. This can’t last, but for now I can pretend.

  And boy is pretending fun.

  Hunter finishes his rounds, then joins Blaze near the end of the terrace. They stand together, blue sky and jungle trees behind them like a postcard.

  “Ladies and gentlemen. Well, gentleman, I should say!” He pauses, and a few of us laugh nervously since it seems to be expected. “Yesterday, you all escaped the bitter taste of defeat due to special circumstances, but today we’re making up for it. If you want a chance at staying in the game and spending your life in paradise, you’re going to have to get your hands dirty.”

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  “And speaking of playing dirty, the winner of today’s contest will also get something special. We’re not telling you what it is until the end, but I’ll promise you this, it’ll be good.”

  A buzz of excited whispers spreads before Blaze cuts it short.

  “Just beyond those trees is a challenge that will see some of you rise victorious, and the rest of you crying for mercy. It’s messy. A little bit sticky. And a whole lot of fun.” Blaze grins and elbows Hunter, who smiles thinly, like he’s embarrassed to be part of this. “For us anyway. Right, Hunter?”

  “That’s what it says on the card, Blaze.”

  “Card. Hah! What a kidder.” Blaze laughs awkwardly. “Ladies, I’m sorry to say those pretty outfits are going to have to go, because they won’t last a minute in the... mud wrestling pit!”

  There’s a pregnant pause as we register what he just said. Someone gasps. I’m still blinking.

  The what?

  Liz

  The guy with the rake gives the gross brown concoction one last stir to check the consistency before giving Blaze a thumbs-up. It’s a huge inflatable kiddie pool, laid out on the lawn behind the estate. The show’s logo is printed on its outer walls, while the inside is filled with wet, gooey, dirty mud. It’s got to be almost six inches deep.

  The host flashes us his trademark grin. “It’s time to get down and dirty, ladies. Are you ready?” We laugh nervously. There are a few nods, and a lot of head shakes. “Hunter, if you’ll do the honors?”

  On a table next to them is a glass bowl full of paper slips, resting on a makeshift stand. Hunter reaches in and pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper. Unrolling it carefully, he reads it out.

  “Bianca.”

  The black-haired beauty smirks confidently and takes a step forward. She’s the only one in a one-piece bathing suit, and I bet it’s not just me looking enviously at her choice. My bikini isn’t the skimpiest by far, but I’m still terrified that something’s going to pop out while we wrestle.

  Bianca rolls her head back and forth to loosen up, sending her tight ponytail swinging. She looks ready to rumble.

  Please don’t pick my name next. I cross my fingers.

  “Heather.”

  Thank God.

  I don’t even feel bad for her, not after that crack about my breakfast. But then I feel a little bad about not feeling bad. The cattiness seems so artificial when you watch these shows, but being on one now, I can see how the situation goes to your head really quickly.

  Bianca climbs over the side of the pool, staring down Heather, who looks like she wants to hide behind Elena. Elena narrows her eyes and steps away, leaving Heather to her fate.

  They meet in the center and shake hands. While they’re about on scale, Bianca is obviously the more athletic, moving with a spring in her step that Heather doesn’t have at all.

  Hunter blows the whistle, and they leap into action.

  In high-school I had pet rats. Mom doesn’t like cats, and I didn’t want fish. They were our best compromise and it turns out they were pretty awesome little buddies. They used to wrestle all the time, pouncing and rolling until one ended up on top, and the other on her
back with her legs in the air.

  This goes a lot like that.

  Bianca grunts. Heather squeals. Mud splatters over all of us.

  Twice in a row, Bianca easily ends up the top rat in the ring, gaining the best of two out of three. Winner clear, Hunter blows the whistle again, and they get up, both covered head to toe in mud.

  Two more names are drawn. “Elise and... Sarah.”

  For a second I’m relieved, until Megan pats me on the shoulder in sympathy and I remember Sarah is me. I stumble forward, grabbing the side of the pool. Elise is slender like Megan, but other than that, I don’t know anything about her. I’m no bruiser, but I have a few pounds on her.

  That should help, right?

  I can do this. Two wins is all I need.

  We look at each other across our clasped hands, smiling awkwardly. The whistle blows and I realize that I know absolutely nothing about wrestling. Fortunately, neither does Elise. We grapple, quickly sliding off our feet and ending up down in the mud, where it goes up my nose and into my eyes. I struggle to figure out how to keep from losing my top, or accidentally grab her somewhere embarrassing.

  She pins me.

  I always did have a competitive streak a mile wide. Hunter is probably to blame, the way he always insisted on turning everything into a race, whether we were running, swimming, diving or climbing. He could make a contest out of dinner.

  It’s been years since I’ve had to go head to head with anyone like this, but the moment I think I might be losing, those instincts claw their way up to the surface.

  This means war.

  With a roar, I take her down, and almost as soon as she’s back up, I do it again. At the sidelines, Amanda and Megan gape at me as if I’d just turned into a monster. I shrug at them and climb out of the pit.

  After the first match is over, I can relax enough to have a little fun. I’ve won once, and that should make my spot on the island safe for now. Alright, maybe one more win, just to be sure, but then I’ll let it go. Whatever the prize that Blaze was hinting at is, it almost definitely means spending more time with Hunter, and while teasing is fun, I’m better off keeping a low profile. Much as I hate to lose.