“You look like you’ve lost weight, dear,” Rebekah commented as she arranged herself on the other end of the long couch. It was almost a ritual of hers. She always said that, no matter what. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she looked nothing at all like the noted surgeon and medical school instructor that she is. That’s kind of how she is, and I’ve seen her at work. In the hospital, she’s straight out of Central Casting, all tight figure, icy demeanor, and all business. At home, though, she’s a great stepmom, warm and friendly. “Didn’t the Eastern European food agree with you, Wesley?”
I had to work hard not to roll my eyes. She always did worry about me too much. “Polish food is fine. I just picked up a bit of a bug the last week, and I didn’t feel like eating too often. Powered through on energy drinks and Vitamin C pills.”
She grumbled at my answer, causing my father to laugh. “Rebekah, can’t you see he’s just jerking your chain? Every time you mention his health, he gives you a ration of bull about his eating and bad habits, just to watch you squirm and grumble. Look at him. He couldn’t keep that physique without eating well.”
“He should treat his stepmother better than that, or else I’ll become the wicked stepmother on him,” she teased, “and you’ll be doing your next work assignment in between scrubbing out the kitchen!”
This time I rolled my eyes and chuckled, turning my attention to the television as Father scrolled through the selections. Before he could settle on a program, Winston came in and whispered in his ear. “Really? Excellent news, Winston! Please inform Chef to adjust the meals for four.”
Winston nodded and walked out, and Father turned toward us, “Robin is coming home for dinner as well, it seems. Wow, this will be the first family dinner in what . . . more than six months?”
Mom beamed at the news. “My baby is coming to dinner? Oh, this will be like old times. But Wesley, you have to promise me: no teasing Robin, okay?”
I grinned, burying my feelings at the mention of Robin under a long-practiced mask. “Come on, Rebekah, I haven’t seen Robin since I left for Europe. You can’t expect me to totally behave now, can you?”
“Sorry, Wes, but I agree with Rebekah here,” Father said. “You may not have heard, but Robin has been having a rough time lately. She broke up with her boyfriend not long ago, and she said something about having trouble at work. So I’m sure she’s probably not in the mood for your normal shenanigans.”
Chagrinned, I nodded. “I didn’t know, sorry. I’ll do my best. Sheesh, how many boyfriends is that now in the past year? She sure can pick ‘em.”
“It doesn’t really matter now, does it?” Father said, putting an end to my comments. Father knew that if I was allowed, I’d talk about Robin for at least an hour. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to at least get a little bit of TV in before Robin comes home.”
Robin
Up until that point, I don’t think I’ve ever had a worse day in my life. Driving up the road toward my parents’ home, the wind whistled through the hole in my windshield, courtesy of a baseball that was now sitting in the passenger seat of my car. Underneath the baseball was something even more painful, a letter from my boss at Venture Robotics that informed me that I was being placed under what was being called “administrative leave,” and what amounted to an unpaid suspension.
I had read the letter twice already, fuming. It was seriously hard not to just rip the whole thing to pieces, or pretend to wipe my ass with the paper. As if what had happened was my fault? Sure, I was the head designer of the part on the drone that failed and caused it to blow up, a loss of over three million dollars. But I knew that I designed the system right. It was the damned military and their hot-shot pilots who couldn’t pay attention to their briefings that destroyed the robot.
Pulling into the driveway, I thought about the perfect storm that seemed to have fallen over my life. First my boyfriend, Tom, had broken up with me by cheating with some bar slut. Then the accident with the drone, then the baseball, what was next?
When I saw Wesley’s truck, the first smile in what felt like days came over my lightly tanned face. My stepbrother and I shared so many interests it was uncanny. He could be exactly what I needed right now. He always had a way of making me smile.
He had his rugged side from being an Army Ranger and all. He technically wasn’t a Ranger anymore, but he still stayed in immaculate shape. One thing you’d never expect, though, is that he did have brains behind all that brawn. It was something you’d never expect if you saw him, being a massive young man that commands respect with his presence. My robotics and his computer engineering often worked hand in hand, and we could bore both of our parents to death with discussions of code and applications of programming.
However, it was clear we had different genes. Wes stayed tan, but my skin is much darker, a gift from my birth father’s Apache heritage, and my eyes are as black as Wesley’s are blue. My hair is a darker, jet black as opposed to the rich brown that Wesley sports.
Grabbing the letter from under the baseball, I stuffed it in the pocket of my bomber jacket before heading to the front door. Winston had the door open and waiting for me before I was even three-quarters of the way up the stairs.
“Miss Robin,” he said, his eyes glancing toward my car. “Shall I have a repair service called?”
“That would be great, Winston, but it’s no rush. I’ll be staying overnight at least. I hope you haven’t rented my room out on Airbnb?”
My joke caused the faintest crack in the butler’s expression, something no one else seemed to be able to do, and his lips lifted into a genuine smile. Even from my earliest days in the mansion, just after Mom had married Gerald, I had always been able to somehow easily penetrate Winston’s exterior far better than anyone else, even more than Wesley. “Not at all, Miss Robin. I will send someone up to fluff the pillows though. Everyone is in the family room if you wish to join them.”
“Thanks, Winston. Have you already adjusted the dinner order? Chef handling it all right?”
“Of course, Miss Robin. He had plenty already, he just had to adjust what you will be having for lunch tomorrow. Your mother had originally wanted cold roast beef sandwiches. Instead the beef will be served tonight, and lunch tomorrow will be different.”
“You and Chef keep this place running, you know that? Thanks again, Winston.”
It was true. While some of the memories were a bit hazy, I remembered what life had been like before Mom had married Gerald. Mom was a good doctor, but she was still paying off her medical school bills, so after my birth father died, things were nowhere near as luxurious as our life was now. Winston and Chef are as much a part of my family as Gerald or even Wesley, and I think Winston, at least, sees me the same way.
I made my way to the family room, my mood brightening as I heard the clash and clang of swords from the television. Sticking my head around the doorway, I watched as Mom rolled her eyes while two men hacked at each other with swords on the television. “Just turn it off when Robin gets here, before they start singing my cock rages on,” Mom begged Gerald, who had his eyes glued to the screen. Looking up, she saw my head in the doorway, and with a happy tap on Gerald’s arm, she rose to her feet. “Honey!”
“Hey, Mom,” I greeted, coming in and hugging her. Gerald also held his arms out for a hug, which I happily gave. I don’t know what it was about Wesley and his father not hugging one another, but for me, Gerald always had open arms and a ready hug. “And I see you’re still driving Mom crazy with your love of swords and sandals television.”
“If your Mother can make me sit through hour after hour of cooking shows, I can watch my gladiators hack away at each other. How are you doing, sweetheart? Your mother said you weren’t having the greatest of times.”
I looked from Mom to Gerald, and over to my stepbrother Wes, who was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. I could see that he wanted to come over and hug me too, but he didn’t want to surround me with people. He has always had tha
t almost psychic level of understanding with me, and I could tell he already knew something was wrong with me, even without Gerald saying anything. Scooting over on the couch, he patted the cushion next to him in invitation.
“Sit down and relax,” Wesley offered. “I already promised Mother and Father that I would be on my best behavior.”
I couldn’t help but smile and walk over and flop down next to him, not even taking off my jacket. Wesley had always been a bit of a tease, and most of the time it didn’t bother me. Sometimes I’d even play along and tease back. “So when did you get back to town, Wes?”
“A couple of hours ago,” Wesley replied, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into a quick hug. I could feel the warmth of his body against me, and the familiar scent of his aftershave in my nose helped me relax even more. I had never told Wes, but his scent and presence was so comforting to me.
Wes gave me a look and smirked. “Like I said, I promised to behave, so I won’t even try to cop a feel.”
I rolled my eyes. Even when he claimed to be on his best behavior, he still had to get his jabs in. This whole flirting between us started soon after our parents had gotten married, and while I could sense the seriousness of his words, I also knew there was no one in the world I felt safer with than my stepbrother. He usually didn’t even hide his antics from our parents. They seemed to ignore it after a while. Regardless, Wesley had always been the one to protect me, and he always looked out for me when boyfriends would push too far or when I was in any kind of trouble.
“Wes, you wouldn’t know what to do even if you did have a chance,” I teased back, knowing what I said was far from the truth. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Wes was experienced in the bedroom, but it still broke the ice and helped me relax into the embrace. “Besides, I would have thought those Eastern European girls would have worn you out. I heard they have a thing for American bad boys.”
“You know me better than that. I don’t tire out, I’m like the energizer bunny. But in all seriousness, my job description these days isn’t as sexy as it used to be,” Wesley teased back, letting his arm remain around my shoulders. “I mean, what girl doesn’t want a guy who can code in four different languages?”
“Please, I doubt there was much talking, and there certainly was no explanation of your job description.”
In all honesty, I’ve always been proud of Wesley’s determination to make his own way in the world, enlisting for a five year term instead of using his father’s money to go to college. Becoming a Ranger, he had taken college courses in his spare time. He actually had two years of his degree finished before his enlistment was up, and afterward, he finished the remaining two years in eighteen months.
That’s Wesley. He lives hard and relaxes hard too, disappearing during his vacations for weeks at a time, out of contact with the rest of the world. “So, how many Olgas and Svetlanas was it?”
“None at all,” Wesley said, and I could hear at least some truth in his voice, with something underneath that I couldn’t quite put my finger on at the time. Wes checked to see that Mom and Gerald were debating what to watch over the Netflix feed before leaning in and whispering in my ear. “I’d rather have a Robin, anyway.”
“Not much meat on a robin,” I replied, intentionally ignoring his innuendo. “Wouldn’t you rather have a chicken or a duck instead?”
Wesley looked at me intently, like he wanted to say something else, when Gerald punched a button on the remote to the television, and the next program started. I patted his hand and regretfully lifted it off my shoulder. “Come on, if we don’t watch, you know your father is going to bug us about it at dinner.”
After enjoying roast beef, mashed potatoes, asparagus and gravy in the dining room, the family was waiting for dessert when I brought up my suspension. I explained the whole situation before passing the letter over to Gerald, who silently read the memo. “And you did nothing wrong, Robin?” he finally asked, passing the letter to Mom. “You’ve seemed a bit off since you broke up with . . . Todd, was it?”
“Tom, and yes, I’m sure of it. I reviewed both my notebooks and the briefing handouts I gave the military, and I know that I specifically said not to take the drone into a turn that sharp. While the PR packet said that the drone was supposed to perfectly mimic a bat in terms of maneuverability, a bat can do that because it weighs one pound and is six inches long, not sixteen feet long and weighing three hundred pounds. And how was I supposed to know he’d pull a stunt like that right above the flight line, crashing it into an F-22?”
“Ah well, I never could stand the Air Force anyway,” Wesley joked from his seat across the table. “Give me a Warrant Officer in an Apache over anything the Air Force can send me any day.”
“So what are you going to do?” Mom asked as Chef brought out slices of rich chocolate mousse pie for everyone. Topped with a dollop of whipped cream, it was Mom’s favorite, a passion I also inherited from her. I’m a dedicated chocoholic, and was glad that Chef only bought the best, Ghirardelli being my personal weakness. “This doesn’t sound like the sort of suspension that will get a fair shake. Someone’s head is going to be on the chopping block for this, if only to save everyone else’s butts.”
“I know, Mom. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. You know my skills are in demand. If anything, I’ll go into business for myself. It’s about time I do what I really want to do anyway.” It had long been a dream of mine to build a fully functional humanoid exoskeleton that would have industrial as well as medical applications.
“Ah yes, your Iron Man suit,” Gerald said. While the term was a joke, Gerald had made his fortune in medical devices and encouraged me at every turn with my dream. I’m sure that if I had asked him, he would have been an angel venture capitalist for me with no question at all. “So what about making a version for your brother? Just have to make it bulletproof and armed.”
“With current power supply technology, that’s going to be a long way off,” I said with a smile. Gerald truly was a unique mix, a genius businessman on one hand, and a geeky teenager on the other. It was part of what I loved about him. “Besides, Wes isn’t a Ranger anymore. Unless you have plans on moonlighting as a superhero, Wes?”
“Not likely,” Wes replied, licking his spoon clean. “Hey, you know what? I was planning on heading up to Canada for a week now that I’m back. It’s real isolated, backwoods survival, camping-type stuff. How about you come along? It’ll do you some good. Get your mind off of things.”
I snorted derisively. “Wes, you know that I’m about the only Apache in existence who can’t start a fire, even if you gave me a box of matches and a bottle of lighter fluid. My idea of roughing it up is a Holiday Inn where they change the sheets only every other day.” It was true. I mean, I do have my tomboy side, but the outdoors was just totally not my thing.
“I know, I know, but trust me, it’ll be fun. I can adjust my load, make it easier for you, and you’ll be able to get it all out of your head. I promise you, you’ll have the time of your life.”
I thought about it. The idea of spending time with Wesley was appealing. I hadn’t been able to do much of it after we both were finished with college. But still, there was the whole camping and outdoors part of the adventure that was so not me. “Wes, I appreciate the offer, but . . . ”
“But Pocahontas is going to be severely in need of a manicure after spending a week in the wild with her stepbrother,” Wes teased, using the name for me that he knew I hated. I mean, I’m proud of my Apache heritage, but being Apache isn’t my whole identity. His voice softened, and he reached across the table and took my hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And I promise, if you agree, I’ll give you a year of no teasing at all.”
I felt his fingers covering my hand, and his touch felt more like a boyfriend’s than a stepbrother’s. It was one of the reasons I had resisted spending so much private time with Wesley in the first place. I didn’t know if I could trust myself around him. He was in so many ways what I want
ed in a man. And yes, the electric tingle of his fingers on my skin touched me in ways that I shouldn’t be thinking about my stepbrother. “Wes, I . . . ”
“I promise, I will be on my best behavior,” Wesley said, interrupting me and flashing me that irresistible smile, that smile he’d always used whenever he wanted me to do something for him. It worked more often than I cared to admit. “Scout’s honor, and you know I was an Eagle Scout, after all.”
“Who got kicked out when you got into a fight with your Scoutmaster, if I remember correctly.” It was the only comeback I could think of, I was so desperate to hold on to some semblance of resistance.
Wes let go of my hand to shrug his shoulders. “Not that again. You know that asshole deserved it anyway. He was bullying the younger Scouts. Just because I took care of it my way doesn’t mean I was wrong.”
I thought about it for a second, then nodded my head. Wes was right, and from some of the rumors I heard afterwards, bullying wasn’t the only thing the Scoutmaster had done with some of the younger scouts. “Okay, a week in Canada. But you have to do something for me first.”
Wesley and my parents all smiled, and Wesley raised his hands up in celebration. Mom scraped her plate for the last bite of her pie and looked at me. “What is it Wesley has to do anyway?”
I leaned back and pointed at my clothing. I was still wearing my work clothes, but it wasn’t that much different from my casual clothes, unless I was in the gym. “Wesley needs to take me shopping. I doubt I have anything that’s warm enough for the Canadian wilderness.”
“Perfect,” Wes said, his eyes twinkling. “Tomorrow, I’m taking you to the Army Navy surplus store. Forget REI or North Face, we’re getting you the real deal.”
Chapter 2
Robin
“You’re sure about this?” I asked, looking at the small, single-engine sea plane. The damn thing looked like something out of a National Geographic documentary. “No offense, but it looks like it shouldn’t even get to the end of the runway, let alone take us three hundred miles north.”
Bastian: A Secret Baby Romance Page 9