by Lee Kilraine
Eli coughed and looked at his shoes.
Ash arched an eyebrow.
Gray only grinned at us.
“Babe, we’re going to have to work on that.” I smiled at the soft blush on her cheeks.
She leaned forward into my neck and whispered, “I’m trying, but I want your brothers to like me.”
Like her? My brothers loved her, and we’d only been officially dating a few weeks. I doubted there was much Sam could do that my brothers wouldn’t love. The fact that she might be our clean-up hitter and win us the league championship only had a little to do with that.
“I believe you, Sam,” Eli said. “Heck, with Christmas tomorrow, it’s the season for errands, right? Don’t forget you said you’d make the sweet potato casserole for tomorrow.”
Sam pulled out of my arms and sent Eli a sweet smile. “I didn’t forget. Beck’s going to help me make it tonight.”
“Yep. I’m helping cut up the sweet potatoes, and Sam’s going to help me make the pies.” We were having Christmas dinner at Ash’s tomorrow, and so far, there hadn’t been a single grumble about it. In fact, looking around at my brothers’ faces, I’d say we were all pretty enthusiastic about this new tradition.
“Good deal. Because his pie at Thanksgiving was just sad,” Ash said.
Sam’s head whipped around to mine, her eyes moving back and forth over my face. “Oh, Beck. You made pie for Thanksgiving?”
“I did.” I looked in her eyes, not afraid for her to see what that pie had meant to me. Because the pie had been about more than Thanksgiving. I’d also made the pie for us. I didn’t even know it at the time. But looking in her green eyes glimmering with tears, I knew now that when we’d talked about traditions and memories and celebrating happy times, my heart had already decided Sam was an integral part of that.
“Whoa, wait. I know that look. Before you two get going on your errand, let’s confirm.” Ash was taking our new tradition very seriously. He’d even sent around an email for us each to sign up for dishes. “My house at noon tomorrow.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to be at the party at the Y later today?” Sam looked sad about that. I knew why too. As much as my brothers had taken to Sam, Sam had taken to my brothers with equal ferociousness. It was a love fest all around, and I couldn’t be happier with how well Sam fit in amongst us.
“Can’t. Game tonight.” Ash leaned over and kissed her cheek, then pulled away and pointed at her. “No errands during the game. Make sure you and Beck watch it on TV.”
Sam blushed and punched Ash in the arm.
“Hey, Beck!” Wyatt stood at the back door of our office building. “Jack Sinclair’s here!”
My jaw went tight, and I watched my brothers stiffen up around me.
“Who’s Jack Sinclair?” Sam asked, looking around with a frown on her face.
“The private investigator I hired to track down Ryker.” I’d told my brothers he’d called a few days ago to say he had a new lead. We’d been waiting impatiently to hear it. We filed into the building and into Wyatt’s office in record time.
Sinclair was former special forces and looked it. Fit and dangerous looking. Possibly former CIA. He only gave out enough credentials to let a client know he had the experience. He didn’t brag or reveal anything beyond a need to know.
I shook Sinclair’s hand and made the introductions all around, since this was the first time even for my brothers to meet him. And then I got right to it.
“Where’s Ryker?” I stared into his silvery eyes, but he could out poker-face the devil.
“I don’t know. I had a location on him two years ago—”
“Which didn’t pan out.” That had been a frustrating lead.
“Because we lost him just as quickly. As soon as I had him located in Texas, he went overseas and disappeared.” His voice came out clipped and terse, sounding more than a little pissed at that situation.
“So then why are you here?”
“To let you know you have another sibling. Well, probably a half-sibling.”
Every muscle in my body went stiff. Sam’s hand slid into mine and I grabbed on tight. One quick glance around at my brothers showed we were all shocked at the news.
I refocused on Sinclair. “Explain.”
“It’s simple. Turns out your mother was pregnant when she left. Only it’s probable it wasn’t your father’s.”
“Who and where?” Ash asked on a growl.
“I don’t know yet. Your mom changed her name after the baby’s birth and left the state shortly after.”
Take care of your brothers, Beckett. I’m counting on you.
“Fuck. He’s been alone out there all this time.” As if it didn’t hurt enough knowing Ryker was out there somewhere.
“She. You have a sister.”
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
GIVE AND TAKE
The next in the Thorne Brothers series
Coming soon from
Lee Kilraine
And
Lyrical Press
Chapter 1
Rhia
“Uh oh.”
“No. No ‘uh oh.’ You swore on your stack of Scientific Americans that this time your experiment would be fine. You assured me this trial had zero chance of failure.” Steph had also pulled the older sister guilt trip on me. Don’t be a baby, Rhia. Besides you owe me for helping you pass organic chem in college.
“Just because you’re showing signs of anaphylaxis doesn’t mean my experiment is a failure.” She frowned as she examined my face.
“Anaphylaxis? Don’t forget we had a deal. I agreed to help you if we swung by the Business Expo after. It closes in an hour and I need to go apply for the ‘Pay it Forward’ grant. Today’s the last day for applications.”
“Why in the world did you wait until the last day?” Of course I got the older sister eyebrow quirk from her. Because my sister Steph, my whole family really, had no idea what it was like to second guess yourself. They came into the world with confidence, an agenda, and a to-do list.
“I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make that big of a commitment.” That was a lie. I was so ready to jump at the next step in my new business endeavor. What took so long was tackling my inner doubts first. And getting past all the doubts of my family.
“I don’t think you know what commitment is, Rhia. You only stuck out teaching English, what? Two years?”
See what I mean? Hey, I taught for two long years. In college I’d kept my options open with a double major in business and English and tried my hand at teaching first. Turned out I wasn’t made for teaching. I fell for every excuse my students gave me. I was a sucker for a sob story. And once the kids figured that out, I lost control of the classroom.
I didn’t let myself get discouraged though. No ma’am. Instead of wallowing in my failure I remembered I was the “go-to” person in my sorority for planning all the parties and events. In fact, I was the Event Planning Chair for two years running.
That’s how I came up with the idea of starting my event planning business, Seize the Day. I felt good about it. Like maybe I’d finally found something I could succeed at and feel passionate about. Just like the rest of my family. I was excited and inspired. Until I ran the numbers.
“You should have majored in one of the sciences like the rest of us,” Steph said while she jotted something down on her clip board. She set her paperwork aside and moved up close to peer into my eyes. “Your pupils look normal. Maybe if you’d gone into a STEM program you’d be employed right now.”
Or maybe not. “You do remember those agonizing hours of organic chem tutoring, don’t you?”
Steph winced at the memory. “Painfully so, but there were science degrees that didn’t require organic chem. Plenty of less rigorous programs even you could have managed.”
Eve
n you. I only flinched a little at that. I knew my sister hadn’t meant it as an insult. It was simply a fact in my family.
“Besides, I do so have a job. I’m self-employed.”
The long-standing joke that I was adopted stopped being funny by middle school when my average grades became a source of friction in the family. If only you’d apply yourself, Rhia. If only you’d try harder, Rhia. Rhia, stop daydreaming and focus. Oh, I tried. But my brain simply wasn’t wired like the rest of the Hollis clan.
So no, I’d never really fit in to my brilliant family. But that hasn’t stopped me from trying. I was tired of disappointing everyone. Especially myself. That’s why I was determined to make my event planning business a success.
“How’s your airway?” Steph placed her fingers on my wrist and glanced at her watch. “Breathing feel okay?”
Was my breathing okay? My family always told me I was overly dramatic, but I don’t know, maybe my throat did feel a little closed up. I swallowed to check. No. My throat felt fine. Must just be that whole power of suggesting thing.
“I thing I’m othay.” Wait, what? That didn’t come out right. Probably because my tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth.
“Uh oh. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” My sister’s face slid into her serious scientist expression and she spoke into her mini handheld recorder. “Test subject number one is showing signs of glossitis and uticaria—one inch diameter, bright red with a pale center.”
“Whath’s glossithith and uthitharia?” Dammit. My speech slurred even worse. And my head felt like it had last New Year’s Eve when I’d imbibed too much champagne. A giggle escaped past my thick tongue. Ha! Imbibed. “Imbibed ith a funny word, don’t you thinth?”
“Test subject is showing signs of slurred speech. Possible intoxication.” She clicked off her recorder and peered closer in my face. “Still breathing okay?”
“Yeth but I’m ithy,” I said and scratched a spot on my cheek and then noticed the same feeling on my forearms. I held my arms out in front of me to look. “Yithes! I’m going to thill you, Sthephanie. You promithed I’d be fine thith time. Promithed!”
“Apparently I miscalculated on the formula. This is a great data set.” She spoke into her recorder again with way too much excitement to my mind. “Decrease amylase dehydrate by fifty percent for second set of trials.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Except I only had to narrow one eye because the other was already half swollen shut. Dammit. “Fixth this.”
“Right.” She searched through the drawer in her desk, coming up with a bottle of Benadryl. Shaking two out, she slapped them in my hand and handed me a bottle of water. “Take these. You’ll be back to normal in six to eight hours.”
Six to eight hours? I glared at her with my one good eye. And I kept on glaring at her as I swallowed down the antihistamines. I could kill my sister and hide the body somewhere here in her lab. Except I needed her to drive me to the expo since I didn’t trust driving under the influence of both whatever she tested on me and antihistamines. Plus I loved her, dammit.
I picked my purse up from the top of a stainless steel storage bench with a sign “Warning: Radioactive Waste Only” and snatched out my phone and car keys. I tossed the keys over to Steph, catching her by surprise so that she juggled them before having them firmly in her grasp. Then I texted her since my tongue now felt incapable of forming any actual words.
“Or before you blow up like a polka dotted puffer fish.”
I texted an angry smiley face emoji to stress my pissed off-ness in case my swollen eye and hives was disguising how upset I was with her. Although I should have known better. It was only a few months ago when the last trial she’d guilted me into had fried my taste buds. Everything had tasted like cardboard for a week.
“Okay, let’s go. And don’t give me that face.” She pointed at me as we exited the building and out to my Jetta. “We’ll make it in plenty of time for you to fill out the application and make a good impression.”
“A good imprethon?” It was my turn to give her the raised eyebrow, because I sounded like a drunk with a lisp. As soon as I let myself into the passenger seat and buckled in, I flipped down the visor to look at the damage.
“Ack!” The face staring back at me had leprosy. Or the Plague. Or sadly and too true to be funny: I looked like I’d been created in a lab by a mad scientist. Just like Frankenstein.
I sent a text to myself.
And then I pulled out my concealer and did the best I could trying to cover the bright red hives on my face and neck. When we parked at the Raleigh Convention Center I made Steph trade shirts with me since hers was long-sleeved and covered the hives on my arms.
“I don’t like putting on a strip show for any perv walking by, Rhia.” Steph grumbled but complied, giving my shirt a disgusted look before pulling it on. “Honestly, your wardrobe looks like the result of a sheep mating with a box of neon crayons.”
I might have rolled my eyes while I slipped on my sister’s neutral beige blouse. First, because that didn’t even make sense. Second, what was wrong with liking color? Bright colors made me happy. Except of course these bright red hives. Those made me unhappy. And very, very itchy.
Okay, yes, this situation was less than ideal. I’d done my research on Six Brothers Construction, the company offering the free office space for a year, and had planned on talking with them for a few minutes to highlight my passionate, goal-oriented, future-focused, tech-savvy personality. (All qualities listed in the book, Entrepreneur to Mogul in 37 Easy Steps.)
“Let’s go, Rhia. You have five minutes to fill out the application and then we’re out of here.” Steph slammed the door and beeped the locks behind us. “I’d like to get out of here before someone sees me looking like My Little Pony threw up on my shirt.”
Like the necessity for swapping shirts was my fault? I seriously contemplated knocking my sister over the head and pushing her into one of the display model Jacuzzis usually set up at these shows. I’d pick one without water of course. The fact that I might need her to speak for me if they asked any questions helped me stifle that impulse. Barely.
“Fine. Leth’s do thith.” My eye was swollen shut, the full body hives itched like I was wearing fabric woven from poison ivy, and my tongue was still unable to form words discernable to a human ear. It was fair to say my confidence about getting this grant had decreased by about a thousand percent in the last hour.
Steph grimaced, her eyes avoiding mine. “It’ll be fine. Just fill out the form. I’ll do the talking if they have any questions. What kind of business is it again?”
Wonderful.
Once inside the building we rode the escalators up to the exhibit space. It was packed with every trade in the building industry pimping their wares like a modern day bazaar. Rows upon rows, booths laid out into a giant maze throughout the immense space. There were home builders, interior decorators, garage door suppliers, roofers asking passerby how old their shingles were and were they interested in a low-maintenance metal roof.
I brought up the map of the business expo on my phone to locate the SBC booth. Left side, half-way down over in the general contractor section. Jerking my head to direct Steph to the left, I maneuvered through the press of people in search of the lifeline I needed to secure my future.
It wasn’t hard to find the SBC booth. It was the one with the crowd gathered around it. Gosh and heck, of course the offer of free office space for a year was popular. It was a big deal. Lord knew it was the only way I’d be able to afford my first year as a small business owner.
My savings account from my meager teacher’s salary wasn’t going to be enough for all the startup costs, and I refused to ask anyone in my family for a loan. The idea of taking out another loan on top of my stud
ent loans had me breathing into a paper bag. That’s why this grant from SBC was so huge. Not having to pay rent was the only way this would work.
And who knew there were so many women becoming small business owners? I was figuring I’d be in the minority as a woman and thus stand out among the applicants. I mean, yay women! Totally awesome! But standing at the back of the crowd so thick I couldn’t even see the actual booth, my chest tightened, squeezing the air from my lungs. Or maybe I needed another Benadryl.
Because without this grant I’d be stuck meeting potential clients in the loud and busy Starbucks down the street from my apartment forever. To take my company to the next level I needed a professional office space. One might say I was desperate.
I grabbed my phone from my purse and texted my sister. Being a brilliant geek who lived in her laboratory, Steph was very out of the loop when it came to popular culture so this move was a long shot. A Hail Mary.
She looked at the text then frowned over at me with a shrug.
I jerked a nod and gave her my best “just do it” look.
“Oh look. Look who just arrived. The…um…” She consulted the text again and raised her arm, pointing to the far side of the building. “The Property Brothers! Way over there.”
There was a mass exodus of excited women as if someone had offered a lifetime supply of zero calorie chocolate. Or, you know, the Property Brothers.
“Impressive,” Steph said and we fist bumped with each other then approached the table under the Six Brothers Construction sign.
Ah…so now I knew what the big draw was at the SBC booth. Three men—no, not just men—but superior males of the extra hot variety stood looking, well, hot. Talk about impressive.
One man, so gorgeous he was almost pretty, looked amused. A large blond bearded man, who would look at home on a Harley, looked outright impressed. And the last man who could pass for a young nerdy Jude Law looked…a bit relieved.
“Goodness. The DNA alleles are strong. You two must be brothers.” Steph pointed at two of them, whipping out her glasses to get a better look.