by Marie James
I bristle at the implication of my mother being the type of woman who would sleep with men before getting to know even their names. It’s Drew’s hand on my forearm that keeps me from knocking this asshole out.
“Two,” he continues, not bothered by my restrained anger. “Your mother never told me she was pregnant. She disappeared one night, and we never heard from her again.”
“Bull—” I get the same hand he held up at Robert. Even enraged, I silence my words, which pisses me off even more.
“Three, even though it doesn’t make any difference, Samson and Delilah are adopted, so there was never another woman.”
“Law,” Drew whispers drawing my stunned eyes to him. “Just hear them out.”
I shake my head, but words are impossible to form.
“Please,” he begs, exhausted from traveling through numerous states to get here. He leans closer and whispers. “I’m tired and hungry.”
Protecting Drew has been my focus since I was old enough to understand that my mother’s continued bad decisions left him fending for himself many times. This time is no different.
I stand from my place on the couch. “We shouldn’t have come here. Come on, Drew.”
He hesitates at first, but I feel his presence at my back as I grab my duffel bag from where I dropped it on the floor when I’d first walked in.
“We’ll find a hotel or something,” I mutter to him as my hand encircles the doorknob.
“We don’t have the money for that,” he adds.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Like last time,” he whispers just as Jaxon calls out, “Don’t go.”
“Please stay,” Robert says walking closer than Jaxon is willing to at this point. “We have plenty of room in the house.”
I ignore him and look down into the pleading eyes of my baby brother.
“What will happen if you go to jail?”
“I won’t,” I promise and turn back to the front porch.
“You said that last time,” he persists.
Guilt and a flood of memories hit me all at once. They’re troublesome enough to make me turn in the direction of the two men I never wanted to see longer than to say my peace.
“I’m not calling either one of you dad.”
Relief at my concession is clear on Robert’s face. Jaxon looks like he could puke any minute.
Chapter 2
Delilah
“Who was that?” I ask my brother.
Nervous energy has me pacing my room as he sits on the bed, uninterested in the two boys that just showed up at the clubhouse. He’s only able to focus on a way to convince Dad and Pop to let him go on the senior trip to Mexico when he’s not even a senior until fall. I’m grateful for the lack of attention and the inspection my response would bring if he bothered to notice me.
“No clue,” he says in a dismissive tone.
“Diego and Morrison seemed to recognize the older one,” I add.
“Guys looking for work?” he offers even though it’s a ridiculous notion.
“The dark-haired kid is younger than us, Sam. So I doubt that.”
He doesn’t even bother to pull his eyes from his cell phone as he types furiously on the screen.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters,” I hiss at him, the self-absorbed response has me stopping in my tracks. “He has Dad’s eyes.”
He huffs. “We have Dad’s eyes.”
“And we’re blonde. How many guys do you know that have black hair and piercing blue eyes?”
His gaze pulls from his phone and meets mine. “Piercing? Really, Delilah?”
“What?” I shrug and continue walking across the room. With my back to him, I fiddle with things on my dresser.
“Maybe it’s a long-lost son,” he offers with no enthusiasm.
“Don’t even say that,” I squeal turning back to him. “That would be disgusting.”
Dammit.
His phone drops to the turquoise duvet covering my bed, and I have his full attention now. The one thing I was hoping not to draw. I can handle a distracted Samson, but when his twin eyes stare into mine, all of my secrets spill out with minimal effort on his part.
“Disgusting? Tell me, Delilah, what would be so gross about Dad having a blood-related child with piercing blue eyes?”
“N-nothing,” I mumble. “I misspoke.”
“You’re the smartest girl in our school, so I highly doubt that.”
I turn away from him without a word. I can feel the heat of my embarrassment flushing my cheeks.
“They had duffel bags with them,” he says as if I didn’t notice them, too. “They’re probably moving in with us.”
I turn, fast enough to knock a few books off of my dresser, only to find his back at my door and his laughter echoing down the hall as he heads to his room.
Moving in?
There’s no way the beautiful stranger will end up here.
I let it sink in as I pick up the things I knocked down. Neither one of my dads would turn away a kid in need, and even though the older one looked one hundred percent grown, the younger one isn’t.
Sticking my head out of my room, I listen for my brother. I’m met with silence and knowing him, he’s locked away in his room on his phone or he’s masturbating.
I shudder at the memory of forgetting to knock before entering his room last week. As I try to force bile back down, I head to the spare bedroom. It’s clean, but I’m not sure who slept in the bunk beds last, so I strip them and grab fresh, clean sheets to remake them. Sometimes Dustin and Khloe’s little boy stays in here and sometimes it’s friends from school or others from next door.
Satisfied that the beds are ready to go, I scoop up the dirty linens and run them down to the laundry room. From the small window, I see Gigi sitting on her front porch painting her nails. Her body is angled so she can keep an eye on the back door of the clubhouse. Seems the handsome, blue-eyed stranger caught her attention too. There’s no other reason for her to be battling the late May heat, and I know for a fact she hates to sweat.
Disgusted with myself at finding him so handsome and the possibility that he could be my brother, I head back upstairs and keep the door cracked so I can hear them if they come home with my dads.
I don’t wait long before the sound of the front door opening and closing makes it up the stairs. Sticking my ear to the crack in the door, I listen for movement and conversation from below. Unable to decipher the voices, I step out on the landing just as my dad, Jaxon, is coming toward me. Both boys, the younger one with excited anticipation in his eyes, the other with more anger on his face than any guy his age should suffer, follow behind him.
“I changed the sheets on the bunk beds,” I inform him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Jaxon says with a quick kiss on my temple as he walks past to the spare room.
“Perfect little ass kisser aren’t you?” the older boy sneers as he walks past.
I recoil at his rudeness but follow them into the room.
“You guys have free run of the house except for the bedrooms. Stick to your own so personal boundaries aren’t broken,” my dad explains as Drew bounds up the bunk bed stairs and plops down on the mattress. “Hopefully you’ll be comfortable.”
“Are you kidding?” Drew yips. “This is better than anything we’ve ever had.”
My heart clenches. A bunk bed is better than anything? That’s both sad and pitiful.
“Drew,” the tall guy beside me chastises with a frown.
I see my dad’s eyes soften as he looks up at Drew who’s crossed his legs at his ankles and positioned his hands behind his head. The kid is truly in hog heaven right now.
“Which room is yours?” The gruff whisper from beside me has more effect than it ever should.
I take a step back and to the side, creating some distance between us. Bumping into the door and causing it to knock against the bump stop garners my dad’s attention and he turns to face us. Fi
rst, his eyes assess the boy, and then they turn to me.
“Lawson, this is my daughter, Delilah. Delilah, this is—”
“His bastard son,” Lawson interrupts holding his hand out to me as my eyes flash to my dad.
His lips flatten, but the slight nod of his head tells me to shake his hand, and that he’s handling a difficult situation the best he can.
When he wraps his hand around my smaller one, there’s no burst of electricity, no zing up my arm predicting my future obsession with this man. The only thing I feel is the cold sweat on his palm betraying his anxiety over this whole situation. It’s almost worse than that burst of adrenaline I’ve read about so many times in books. His somatic reaction to this situation makes me feel sorry for him, pity the life he may have had up until this point. It pushes away the anger I felt with his snide comment in the hall and makes me want to pull him against my chest and tell him everything will be fine.
“Nice to meet you,” I manage after an awkwardly long handshake.
“I can’t wait to get to know you better,” he says as I jerk my hand away.
In a rude gesture, I rub my hand against the fabric of my cut-off shorts, a way to let him know I feel his discomfort. It’s mean and something out of character for me, but he needs to know I can read him like a book. Let him act macho and pissed off with everyone else, but his secrets were revealed in a simple handshake.
“This is Drew,” my dad says interrupting the stare off Lawson and I are having.
I divert my eyes to the younger boy, closing the space between us with an outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
He shakes my hand over the rail of the top bunk and due to my height, or lack thereof, I have to stretch to reach it.
I pop back down on the heels of my bare feet when an appreciative grunt echoes around the room. Embarrassed, I pull down the hem of my tank top that had shifted up on my back.
Turning and not making eye contact with anyone but my dad, I direct my words at him. “I’ll be in my room until supper.”
He nods as I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Maybe change your clothes.”
A suggestion I plan on following the second I get back to my room. “Yes, sir.”
Lawson is chuckling as I scurry past him and make it to the safety of my bedroom. Closing the door, I twist the lock for good measure.
With no time to ask my dad questions, my mind races with what putting Lawson and Drew up in the spare room means. Are they living here? Is it only for a few nights?
Bastard son?
Samson was right. The worst possible explanation of this situation has just been laid at my feet. I feel sorry for them. Just the small glimpse into their lives with a few spoken words from Drew’s lips paints a dreary picture.
The ding of my cell phone pulls me from my selfish thoughts of wondering how them being here is going to affect my life. I’m no better than Samson.
Gigi: What’s going on? I saw them go inside your house.
“Of course you did,” I mutter to the text message.
Ignoring her text, I toss my phone back down on my bed and change my clothes.
Avoiding him without seeming rude will probably be my best bet. He’s a grown man, or at least he looks like one so he won’t be here long. The rules in the house aren’t what I’d call strict, but there are limitations to our choices. Lawson doesn’t seem like the guy who’s going to stick around after the ‘my house-my rules’ speech is given to him.
Chapter 3
Lawson
“Dinner is in forty-five minutes,” Jaxon says as he steps away from the bunk bed where my brother is acting like Oliver Twist who’s climbed into a real bed for the first time.
Way to keep things close to your chest there, Drew.
“Not hungry,” I mutter before he reaches the door. I pray my stomach doesn’t growl in protest to my lie.
“Kitchen’s always open if you get hungry later tonight,” he offers, unlike the asshole I made him out to be. Leaning in close and focusing on me after checking to see if Drew’s attention is on us. He gets closer than he ever has before. “I’ll give you anything you need, money, opportunities, a real chance at life, but don’t hurt my family.”
My jaw clenches to the point of pain, but I keep my focus across the room.
“That includes my daughter.”
Now he has my attention. He read me like an open book, or he saw my cock thicken in my jeans when she reached up and shook Drew’s hand. I nearly groan for the second time at the memory.
The door snaps shut before I realize he left.
“They don’t want us here,” I tell my ecstatic brother as he reaches his hands up to see if he can touch the ceiling while lying flat on his back.
“They seem shocked, but I never got that vibe from them,” he counters.
“You wouldn’t,” I mutter sliding the strap of my duffel off of my shoulder. “You were too busy jizzing in your pants over a goddamned bunk bed.”
He chuckles, used to my brashness. “Wait until you lay down, asshole. These mattresses are perfect.”
“Language,” I warn.
He huffs but doesn’t respond. My mother’s stubbornness runs through my blood like a living thing. It’s the exact reason I choose to sit in the rolling chair in front of the desk on the far side of the room.
Movement outside of the window catches my eye, and the sight of long, golden legs peeking out from the steps leading up to the house next door makes me smile and reminds me of the slew of hot chicks who were in the main building when we’d first arrived.
Maybe living here surrounded by hot chicks won’t be so bad.
I shake my head, clearing that thought. I have no desire to spend more than the minimal time needed on this property. I have to get Drew settled, make sure that he’ll be safe and they won’t just shove him off into the system, and then I’m out of here. The fact that these two men adopted twins helps settle my nerves somehow. Anyone taking the step to welcome non-biological children into their home is an act of compassion many people wouldn’t consider.
Drew’s slow and steady breathing tells me just how exhausted the kid is. We’ve been traveling for several days. Add in the emotional stress of losing our mother less than a month ago, and it’s no wonder he can fall asleep only minutes after invading some stranger’s home.
Dark hair and dark eyes clear the front edge of the porch’s roof. The girl sitting there meets my gaze as if she either feels me watching her or she knew exactly where we’d be in this house. I don’t turn my head after getting caught. Instead, I smirk at her. Her head dips back, out of view, but less than a minute later, she’s wiping lotion or tanning oil down her legs. The motion isn’t economical in the least. Her attempt at a sensual rub down makes my eyebrow quirk and my dick jump more from underuse than attraction.
Note to self: avoid the brunette.
Aggressive women aren’t my style at all. The last thing I need is a girl trying to take control of any situation we’re tossed into together. It’s the thrill of the chase that gets my blood pumping, the prospect that I’m convincing an otherwise uninterested party to act a certain way.
I have a feeling that the toy I want to play with most is somewhere in this house. The girl on the porch, performing for some guy she doesn’t even know, doesn’t hold a candle to the fun I’ll have with Delilah.
***
“Hey.”
I spent several long minutes looking at Drew sleeping peacefully before waking him. He’s the picture of innocence, long dark lashes resting against his cheeks and a slight pucker to his lips. I know different though. This kid has seen more, been forced to endure more heartache than anyone ever should. My only goal in life is to protect him.
He draws in a long breath, stretching his muscles out on the bed. “I told you this bed was awesome.”
“You need to go down and eat,” I tell him.
“Awesome,” he says climbing off of the bed. “I’m fucking starvin
g.”
“Seriously, Drew?” I narrow my eyes at him. “You need to watch your mouth. These don’t seem like the type of people who are going to tolerate that language from a fifteen-year-old.”
He nods, both in understanding and not wanting anything to ruin his chance to sleep in a soft bed rather than a worn out mattress on the floor. The last month has been tough on both of us. Hitchhiking across several states before some sad fucker felt bad enough to give us the money for bus tickets took a lot out of us.
He pauses at the door, looking over his shoulder at me sitting back in the desk chair. “Aren’t you coming?”
I shake my head. “Not hungry.”
I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t believe the lie, but he just nods and closes the door behind him when he leaves.
“Drew,” I call out a second later.
I spring up from the chair and pull the door open. Both my brother and Delilah are in the hall walking toward the stairs.
“Drew,” I say again.
“What’s up?” he asks as he turns back to me.
Delilah stops, turning her nosey ass attention to us. “Can I help you with something, Princess?”
Her nose shrivels as she looks at me with disgust, but she takes the hint and disappears down the hall.
“What, Law? I’m hungry.”
“Don’t tell them anything,” I instruct. “Don’t give them details about our life. Hell, tell them we came from Utah or something. Feed them anything but the truth.”
He frowns. “You want me to lie to your dad?”
“He’s not my fucking dad. He’s merely a sperm donor who treated Mom like shit.”
“Fine,” he mutters and walks away again without a backward glance.
I wait, annoyed by the laughter that’s flowing up the stairs, for Drew to return to the room. Boredom sets in, and the girl next door is no longer on her porch, but the pull isn’t strong enough to get me to leave this room to join the happy little family.
Fifteen minutes after I give up looking at random shit on the internet with my phone, Drew comes back up to the room with a grin on his face. I hate that it falls when he steps through the door.