Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Juliana Conners

  “Aaron!” I hear Taylor scream from the rocks dotted all over the lake, but this scream isn’t filled with ecstasy, it’s filled with sheer terror. All thoughts about football vanish, and I sprint towards the lake.

  “Oh, my God, Aaron. Please! I need you I need you.”

  She’s standing on the crop of rocks in the middle of the lake.

  “S-s-snake! Oh, my, God. What should I do?” Her voice edges on hysteria.

  If there’s one thing I know about Taylor, it’s that she’s deathly terrified of snakes.

  “What kind of snake?” I ask jumping across the rocks. “Don’t disturb it.”

  “I think it’s a copperhead. It has diamonds on its back. It’s moving! It’s going to kill me! I’m going to die!”

  “It won’t bite unless it feels threatened.” I jump onto the rock beside her. “Don’t panic.” I look closely at the coiled reptile. “It’s a water snake.”

  “How do you know?” She jumps on my back, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I grab her legs to hold her steady. “Are you sure?”

  “The bands of brown, black and dark green on its back. Plus, a copperhead has a flat, flared head.”

  “Is it venomous?”

  “Nah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very sure.” I start carrying her over the rocks, and when we get to the bank, I set her down. “Nonvenomous snakes have round pupils. They have small teeth and no fangs. A bite would hurt but not kill.”

  “What’s it doing here? Shouldn’t it be in the water? Are there more in the water? I’m never getting in the lake again!” She wrings her hands, and her eyes are as wide as saucers.

  “They like basking on rocks during the day, or hanging out on tree limbs.”

  Glancing at the trees overhanging the lake, she clings to my arm. I won’t lie, it feels good to have her need me like this.

  “I thought I was going to die. I thought—thank you so much. Thank you. I’m so glad you were here.”

  Her gratitude makes me want to puff out my chest.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say and smile. “Glad I could help.”

  “Let me make you dinner as a way to say thanks. If I’d been on my own, I could be dead. I could have lain undiscovered for weeks. The rats would have eaten me.” Her eyes widen even more, and I want to laugh at her over exaggeration, but I don’t.

  “Are we calling a truce?” I ask holding out my hand.

  “Truce,” she agrees, and we shake on it.

  ***

  For the rest of the day, after uncovering and cleaning the boat, I go fishing, throwing back most of what I catch. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder every time I cast off.

  Taylor stays on the deck, reading and every so often, I catch her eye and wave. It’ll be a while before she comes into the water again, but I have a feeling if she comes hiking with me tomorrow she will. There’s someplace special I want to take her.

  I spend most of my time trying to figure out what I’m going to do regarding football and the poison floating around my body, but by the time the sun sets, I still don’t have a solution.

  Feeling less than hopeful about my future, I come in off the lake and clean the fish I’d caught. Taylor makes a salad and after seasoning the fish, wraps them in foil and throws them on the grill.

  “It’s actually kinda nice having you here,” she admits, wiping her hands with a paper towel, “I thought I wanted to be alone, but maybe I don’t.”

  While the fish bake, we both sit by the firepit, and I throw a few logs into the snapping flames. “So how you been, Taylor? School? Life?”

  “Same old same old. Life is nothing but school and cheering.”

  “Crazy that our parents got married,” I say, grabbing a beer from the cooler at my side.

  “Insane. But they make one another really happy, and I love that my mom found someone like your dad, he’s a good guy.”

  I snort. “Says you.”

  “I know you two have your problems, but he is a good guy. He’s so good to my mom, and he’s a good dad.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, not wanting to get into it with her. He might be a good dad to Chelsea now, but to me, he was, and is, a tyrant.

  “What brought you home?” she asks, reaching for a beer. “You haven’t been back in so long. Everyone was surprised to see you.”

  “That’s what you call it?”

  “Stop with the pity party.”

  “Ever thought about being a motivational speaker?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  “Ha-ha very funny. I just don’t like people feeling sorry for themselves over nothing. It pisses me off. I have no time for it.”

  What would she say if I told her I’m about to be kicked off the team because of steroids, and because I can’t throw worth shit anymore. It’s on the tip of my tongue, but then I decide not to because I don’t fully understand it all yet, and she’d have too many questions I don’t have the answers to.

  “Just thought it was time to come home.”

  “Shouldn’t you be training for next season instead of sitting in a cabin in the middle of the woods with me?”

  “I should be, but I decided I needed a break. One too many hits on the head.” I demonstrate this by rapping my knuckles against the back of my skull.

  The look on her face tells me she doesn’t buy my bullshit.

  “You’re okay, right? I mean you don’t have a brain injury. I know about your shoulder—everyone does.”

  “I’m good. Nothing some rest can’t cure. Nothing that’s gonna stop me getting into the pros.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. I’m starting to think the pros is a dream that’ll never happen for me.

  “Have you had any interest yet from anyone?”

  “Here and there. But I want to make sure I finish college first. You never know how long a football career will last these days. Not everyone is Tom Brady and can play into their forties.” Was that last statement for her benefit or mine?

  She raises an eyebrow and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Who are you and what have you done with Aaron Thompson?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say a little more defensively than I intend to.

  “Oh, please. Aaron Thompson, the star quarterback. The guy who coached his high school team as much as the coaches did. The guy everyone looked up to. The guy all the cheerleaders wanted to be with?”

  I laugh and take a gulp of beer before answering. “He’s still around.”

  “You’ve changed. Grown-up.”

  “Nah. I’m still the same guy who does dumb stuff.” Like, get steroid injections from an unscrupulous doctor. “The same guy who got busted for drag racing down Main Street. The same guy who rides dirt bikes, likes fishing, drinking beers, and chasing girls. The same guy who hung his high school coach’s underwear from the flagpole.”

  “That was a good one,” she says and laughs.

  “I want to hear more about you,” I say, sick of talking about me. “Are you dating?”

  She shakes her head, stands, and goes to the grill. “I just don’t have time, and I see how much time it takes up with Chelsea. She and Wesley are in each other’s pockets. No thank you. I don’t want to be at someone’s beck and call.”

  I throw my empty bottle in the recycling bin and wander over to the grill. “She’s at his beck and call? My independent sister?”

  “They can’t be apart for more than ten minutes without suffering withdrawal symptoms. They’re seriously attached at the hip.”

  “Jealous?”

  Using the tips of her fingers, she peels open the foil parcels. “These are done. Grab me a plate. And no, not jealous. More like concerned that she’s throwing away her life for the first guy she fell in love with.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” I ask, handing her a plate.

  “I guess not. He’s aiming for the pros too, and everyone thinks he’ll make it. I just don’t want her to give up her dreams to follow him around. I don’t want her to g
ive up who she is to become a Stepford WAG.”

  “WAG?”

  “Wife and girlfriend,” she explains. “They spend money on surgery and clothes. Their only purpose in life is to look pretty.”

  “Doesn’t sound like my sister.”

  “I hope it never does.”

  For the rest of the night, we sit by the fire bullshitting about life, and I realize this is the first time we’ve ever sat and talked—really talked. Conversation with Taylor is easy. She’s smart and understands football—more than any other girl I know besides Chelsea, but that’s because my dad showed her plays the second she was old enough to hold a ball.

  When Taylor stands and says good night, I see her hesitating. She’s waiting for me to make a move, but I simply say good night.

  Perhaps I’m imagining it, but she seems disappointed.

  I’m standing by my decision. If she wants me, she can come get me.

  Chapter 10

  Taylor

  Last night was the first night I’d slept in a long time. I stayed up super late talking to Aaron. We had some nice conversations, and it was fun talking to him about everything and anything. Turns out there’s a brain beneath all that muscle.

  With a stretch, I saunter into the kitchen in search of coffee. Aaron is already there. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers and is standing at the stove cooking eggs and bacon, and the coffee is already brewed.

  “Hungry?” he asks. “Since you cooked me dinner last night, I thought I would repay the favor and cook you breakfast.”

  My stomach rumbles in thanks. “I’m famished.” I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour myself a cup of energy-jolting caffeine.

  I could so get used to this. Not only having breakfast made but also having a sexy near-naked man standing in front of the stove cooking it for me.

  In another time, another place, and in another world where he wasn’t my stepbrother, I could seriously fall in love with Aaron Thompson.

  He gives me what I can only describe as a devastating smile filled with warmth, and my nipples respond by standing to attention. I turn from him so he doesn’t notice them through my tank.

  “I’ll be the breakfast chef if you be the dinner chef.”

  “Deal,” I say, pinching a piece of crispy bacon from the pan. He playfully swats my hand with the spatula. “No stealing the food. Go sit.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I do as he says and a few minutes later, he sets a platter filled with bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages, home fries, and English muffins smothered in butter on the table.

  “Impressive. I didn’t know you could cook. And that there were more than two of us here. There’s enough food to feed a football team.”

  “I’m a growing boy,” he says, filling his plate. “And there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He smothers his eggs and potatoes in ketchup and picks up his fork. “Maybe one evening I’ll make you dinner. I can grill a pretty mean steak.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” I say, grinning. Across the table, I glance at his perfect muscles, doing my best not to stare, but I can’t help it. His body shows all the work he puts into it.

  Aaron is one of those guys who’ll keep getting better with age. When he’s old with wrinkles and laughter lines and salt n’pepper hair, every woman within a ten-mile radius will still throw themselves at him. He isn’t the kind of guy who’ll let himself go. Lucky woman who gets him.

  Where the hell did that thought come from? The woman who gets him will have to keep one eye open at all times, and I have to remember that.

  “What are your plans today?” he asks. “More snake hunting?”

  “You’re so freaking hysterical. I’m going to be boring again and read.”

  “You’re not going to read again. Hike to the waterfall with me. Bring a picnic. Or we can take the boat out. If I see you pick up your Kindle, I’ll throw it in the lake. Spend the day doing something fun.”

  I consider his offer for a few minutes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I say, glancing at his naked chest.

  He holds up two fingers like a boy scout. “I promise to keep my hands to myself at all times. If you do.”

  I give my eyes a hard eye roll. “Oh, please. Where is the waterfall? I don’t remember ever hiking to one when we were kids.”

  “That’s because the only thing you and my sister were interested in was making up dance routines and forcing everyone to watch. Which, by the way, was torture. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Not for the first time, I look at him and wonder where the cocky jock I grew up with went.

  You know what,” I say wiping my lips with my napkin, “A day hiking sounds perfect.” I look at him once more, and he’s eyeing me strangely like he’s perplexed. I lift my hand to my face. “What? Do I have food on my chin?”

  “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “Do you want to know why I was staring.”

  I give him a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. Do I?”

  He rubs the back of his head and looks at the table. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

  “Oh,” I say and blush. “Um, Thanks.”

  ***

  While Aaron packs a backpack with water and snacks, I throw together a picnic lunch with whatever we have left over in the fridge, which isn’t much—peanut butter, jelly, and hummus. We’ll need to do a supermarket run tomorrow.

  Once lunch is packed, I put on my hiking boots and spray every inch of my body in bug repellent.

  “Ready?” he asks throwing this backpack over his shoulders. He winces, but it disappears as soon as it appears. His shoulder must be a mess, but I won’t push him to talk about it. He’ll open up when he wants to.

  “Let’s get going,” I say.

  During our hike, Aaron barely breaks a sweat while I sweat like a pig on a spit roast, and probably smell like one too.

  An hour later, I’m panting, my lungs burn, and sweat slicks my skin. “Where’s the waterfall?” I call from a few feet behind him.

  “Not much further,” he says, “promise. It’s worth it.”

  “Better be,” I mumble. On the way up the side of the mountain, I’ve already gulped down three bottles of water, and I’m struggling to keep up.

  “I thought you cheerleaders were supposed to be fit?” he calls back, his voice echoing through the forest.

  “We are fit, just not quarterback fit.”

  “You look more than fit in my eyes.”

  I groan at his cheesiness. “Enough with the dorky flirting.”

  “Lighten up, Taylor. I’m teasing you.”

  “Dork.”

  We continue to hike through the overgrown landscape, which Aaron clears with a knife like he’s Dwayne Johnson traveling through the jungle in Jumanji.

  “Looks like no one’s walked this way for years,” he says. “Good. I like to keep this place secret.”

  The sound of rushing water greets me before I see it.

  “Through here,” Aaron says, excitement threading through his voice. He steps through a small clearing, and I follow.

  “Wow,” I breathe. Water cascades about one-hundred feet over rocks and crashes into crystal clear water below. I drop my backpack onto the ground, and my mouth falls open. “You were right to keep this place a secret. I can’t believe this.” I’m almost at a loss for words.

  “Told you it was worth the hike, right?”

  “Yes, but this,” I say, kicking off my boots and socks, and dipping my toes into the cool water. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  Aaron rips off his t-shirt, then his shorts. Underneath, he’s wearing tight boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. I try not to stare as he wades into the water. “Come join me,” he calls back.

  “Um. I guess I didn’t think this through. I’m an idiot. I didn’t wear a bikini.”

  “And? Get in here.”

  “Snakes?”

  He flexes his biceps and kisses them one at a time. “I’l
l protect you.”

  “My hero. I suppose I could wear my shorts and tank.” Beneath my clothes, I’m wearing a red thong and a sports bra. I move my hands to take my top off, but when I see the way he’s looking at me, I change my mind. “It’s maybe better if I keep my clothes on.”

  “Fine,” he says, “jump in, but do you want to hike back to the cabin in cold, wet clothes?”

  “I’ll deal with it.” The main reason I don’t want to strip down to my underwear is because my clothes, as skimpy as they are, act like a barrier. If I were in nothing but my underwear, I’d feel more than a little vulnerable. And it’s not that I don’t trust him. I don’t trust myself.

  Before I get into the lake, I lay out the blanket I’d brought for the picnic and set some water bottles on the bank so they’re easy to reach.

  Then I wade into the water. My shorts stick to my legs uncomfortably, but it’s that or be semi-naked.

  Against my sweaty skin, the water feels deliciously cool and refreshing. I wade deeper, and when I’m deep enough, I float on my back and gaze at the gray clouds now blanketing the once blue sky. A drop of summer rain falls on my face and thunder rumbles in the distance.

  “This is like a little piece of paradise. Thanks for sharing it with me.”

  “It’s not like is mine,” he says from a few feet away. “But I knew you’d like it.

  “I love it. I could stay here forever.”

  A shower of water washes down on me, and I scream. “You didn’t just do that.”

  “What-ya going to do about it?” He asks and flicks more water my way.

  “This.” I jump on top of his back and do my damndest to drag him under, but since he weighs twice as much as I do, it’s an impossible task. “Sneak water attacks aren’t fair.”

  He pulls me off him and dunks me under. I come up, spluttering. I wipe my eyes and push my hair out of my face.

  “You’re going down.” I lunge forward, wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, and manage to pull him under. My back slaps into the water, and he falls on top of me.

  We both come up laughing and gasping for air. I look at him—his hypnotizing smile, his fiery eyes—and I know there’s no point in denying it or lying to myself.