And then she walked into the room and stopped me in my tracks.
It was a wave of emotions I wasn’t prepared for, like one of those indie movies, where the director zooms in on her face, the lost love, the one that got away. The moment where the ambient, shoe-singer guitar sings like a glorious ethereal creature of its own right, making a grand entrance fit for a far away galaxy queen. The entire scene slowed down in my mind and my world stood still as the very woman I’d dreamt about year after year, fought so hard to forget, walked back into my life and now stood two people away from me. My sister Claire and her mother Madie softened the distance.
I caught her profile, zooming in, everyone else disappearing. She lifted her sculpted chin with a tender care before engaging in a smile to the stranger before her, receiving the handshake. She didn’t know these people. But she stood there with the grace of a queen. My eyes lasered in on her full lips dressed with a deep pink stain, lips I wanted to cover with my own, jumping this line right now and taking her in my arms, to let a long overdue welcome reveal to her not only just my feelings, but my own deep sentiments in this receiving line.
I shook my head lightly. I didn’t want to mess this moment up. I hope I didn’t just murmur something absurd.
That smile.
That always-pleasant, diplomatic smile that dazzled, warming the coldest of strangers. It had briefly aided our family so well back then. Her compassion that dressed her countenance, the genuine softness that cared about others. She never knew a stranger. She shook someone’s hand with such care and attention in the receiving line, as if they were the only person in the room. She was just the type of woman a man would want by his side.
I followed the limb with a sideways glance and took her in, head to toe. Damn, she looked good.
She looked so much…older. Refined. Her young beauty had blossomed into a gorgeous womanhood. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to become that much more attractive. Dressed in a conservative black dress, there was no hiding those curves, ever. How could someone I hadn’t seen for so long invoke such strong emotions, physical emotions? I wanted to jump this line, take her in my arms, and let a long overdue hard kiss reveal to her my feelings, relaying that I was sorry. Telling her how much I missed her.
Her long, tumbling curls shined beneath the sky lights and just the smell of her; the light fragrance of cotton with a hint of French lavender made me want to drink her in. Claire and Madie were barely enough buffer for my raging heart pounding out of control.
As she tossed her golden locks, she made that life-changing, scene-altering locking with my eyes and I went weak in my knees. If it weren’t for Peters standing in front of me waiting to receive his sentiments, I would have buckled and fallen.
“Whoa, easy there.” His firm hand steadied my near fall. “I know how these things can be. Make sure you don’t lock your knees, son. And oh, here. Add some of this to your coffee, why don’t you.” He winked and slid the flask inside my suit pocket.
I took a fresh breath of air.
“Certainly. Thank you for that tip,” I said with weary eyes.
Fuck, she looked hot.
I stole sideways glances here and there, careful to never make eye contact with her. But, oh I was looking. Hell, everyone looked at her. I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to become any more beautiful or any more desirable, but she had.
“Would you take a look at Madie’s daughter? She’s a looker.”
“I wonder if she has a boyfriend. Give her your number. Later, of course, at the wake, when it’s more appropriate.”
I caught and overheard all of the suggestions of mothers to their sons, hell, even men in their retired years. She was like a light in the midst of a very dark hour. A light I was thankful to lift my spirit, just barely. But, words, face to face? I hadn’t the strength yet to face her and obviously from the way the rest of the day went, neither did she, nor did circumstantial duties allow.
But later, as the casket dropped in the cemetery, it wasn’t just a February chill that traveled down my spine, it was the brevity of life and the meaning of it all. How quickly a man can be buried, but his legacy—that was something different that could carry on and would carry on forever.
What would mine be?
How would I be different from him?
He was a good man. Yes. But his judgment had gotten the best of him in his later years.
By the time we made it back to our home, the morning and afternoon felt like a week’s worth of activity and I felt like disappearing before the hundreds of people, many of whom were strangers. But I was now the patriarch. I needed to at least save face for a full hour. And I was able to disappear in the crowd. I didn’t feel like mingling. I felt like disappearing. The eerie howl of the outskirts of the winter hurricane was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.
I woke up and the chatter had stilled and light taps of sleet greeted my pounding head.
God, what time was it?
I grabbed my cell phone from my childhood bedside table. 2:33 AM.
For real?
Shit.
I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. And then realized the electricity was out. Fuck. How was that possible with our top-of-the-line generator?
Feeling freezing as hell, I changed my clothes and wrapped a terry cloth robe around myself. Feeling a little dizzy still from my let’s-not-remember-anything-right-now moment, I was thirsty as hell and anxious to see if I’d actually see her again. Right now.
There I was, walking the familiar hallways of my home, passing the great room, when she stopped me in my tracks again.
She was pacing, saying phrases out loud as she held a candle in one hand. The other hand held chocolate with dripping syrup that fell down her shirt on accident.
It was torture enough the way her body made me respond like a crazed animal, but that syrup dripping down her shirt between her breasts, and watching her in the dark was enough to push me over the edge. I was feet away from ripping her shirt off and licking the syrup off of her.
Chapter 5
KATE
* * *
I sat there in the chair tapping my pen against the desk in sudden onset writer’s block. Only 10,000 more words to go. Why oh why did I have to get sick with a God awful flu? I could barely eat or drink for a whole week, and I was set way back on my paper.
I was in the sitting room closest to the deck, the more natural side of the property. The pools and outside kitchen were around the corner. My papers, notebooks and books were scattered across the table. Never did I ever imagine writing the most important paper in my pre-doctorate career in this moment and in this place. And not just in this place, in this place that just lost electricity.
“Fuck.” I buried my head in my hands. “I thought this place was supposed to freaking be high tech enough to house the president himself,” I murmured.
Just in case, Miss Kate. Mr. Fox’s kind gesture came to mind and into my sight. He had left me a flashlight, which I thought was sweet. Now I was totally thankful.
I quickly reached for it, totally freaked out by the darkness of the mansion. Only the light of white foam from the waves seemed to come in sight. Outside the waves were angry, and the icy sleet hammered against the window. Oh, it was coming: the storm.
The storm that would… “Fuck!” I called out again. I knew what this meant. The electricity was no doubt down.
I refreshed my browser. I had my school’s digital library up and had a book I was citing and needed the next page to finish the quote. Heck, I needed every page.
“Come on…come on….” Panic flooded my chest. The browser remained completely stoic and unmoving as a stubborn cat happily curled up by a fire.
“Ugh!” I cried out a little louder than I intended as the noise ricocheted off the high ceilings.
Feeling small, I wrapped a nearby blanket around me and surveyed with the flashlight the hijacked table. Only the light of my Mac and phone lit up the dar
kened night with neon hues.
My word document cursor blinked at me, waiting for the next direction.
I stared at the table for God knows how long, as if looking for a hidden answer as to what to do or say next. My eyes lasered in on my miracle concoction I always make to combat writer’s block. My miracle concoction— cacao bits dipped in maple syrup—I learned rather quickly this special magic, combined with coffee, did the trick when I faced stubborn brain fog. I reached for the chocolate and dipped it heavily and evenly.
I then stood up and began to pace, wording out loud the phrases and sentences I’d speak into my notes on the phone. That always did the trick and got the wheels running. This whole dark night, no electricity thing had been eerie after a while, but after finding enough candles in the pantry, the room looked pretty cozy. A little scary. But cozy. In a strange way I felt inspired by the old school way of writing. By pen. At night.
But then the waves stole my attention.
Lost in thought, I let out another sigh and stared out into the crazy wind and waves. I’d never seen a nor’ easter before; only heard about them. When it snowed, I wanted to stand out by the waves and watch the snow meet the sea. I’d never seen that before.
A sticky drip from the syrup taking its sweet time down my chest snapped me out of my daydream. I sucked my fingers quickly to avoid a mess on my papers. I tried to salvage the heavy nectar quick before it further made its way into my bra. Taking care of the remnants with my remaining fingers, I screamed in fright and dropped my flashlight.
“Oh fuck!”
It was him.
I bit my lower lip and lightly sighed.
There he was with his hands shoved in his sweat’s pockets. Stepbrother or no stepbrother, Bradley was a showstopper. I gulped as I reached down to pick up my flashlight and gather my scattered papers.
“You scared me…like a…like a ghost.”
“Maybe I am.” He said softly. “Hell, I have been all this time.”
Oh no, he didn’t. No, no, no, no, no. We were not going to talk about that. I needed my head in the game for this paper. Focused.
“Was I being too loud?” I got it out really fast. As soon as I said it, I felt incredibly insensitive. Someone slam my head with a cast iron; his freaking father just passed. Of course he wasn’t able to sleep.
And after all these years, this is the grand ice breaker? The hello, haven’t seen you in almost a decade, terribly sorry about your father? Not, good Kate.
“I mean, given the circumstances, I…um. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this type of thing. I’ve never really lost anyone.” I looked down at my feet, confused. I wanted to be mean, cold, quiet, but that wasn’t me. I didn’t know how to put on airs, that was why I had to leave in the first place.
Yeah, I’ve never lost someone to death, but I did lose a life.
I lost you and Claire practically. The only siblings I’d ever really had. And you’re the teenage crush I had to lose and toss aside.
“Except my parents’ marriage, which felt like a death, honestly.”
“Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky.”
He didn’t move from his pillar strength stance. And I just realized it all: he was an orphan now. No mother. No father. A rich, rich billionaire heir. And he was alone.
Well, he deserves it! my bitter heart shouted at me. I instantly felt guilty for such a thought.
No one deserved to be all alone. I slowly rose and stood feet away from him. The wind picked up and howled adding to the dramatic moment of it all.
“Are you—”
“They say it’s going to be like a hurricane.”
Alright? I wanted to finish.
“That really sucks. I…”
“Well, I’ll leave you. After all, you hate me.”
I couldn’t speak or call out after him because the truth is, I didn’t know how to handle any of this. I’d thought he was out asleep and was planning on speaking to him in the morning for the first time. And now I just made a mess saying stupid things, and now he’s gone again. I had no idea where he disappeared to in the grand Rainshaw house, especially since it was very dark.
But after ten numb minutes, I decided I needed to find him. How the hell was I to focus when that just happened?
I walked down the quiet hallways looking for him like a scared child. The grand hallways swallowing me, the fear growing due to being an overactive child where I always created monsters and creatures that lurked in the corners.
Finally, I smelled him before I saw him. The smell of cigars, a favorite past time of his and his father. Together.
I pushed the door open, the creak announcing my arrival. The man cave had gas lanterns and gave the ambience a vibe I wanted to join. Curiosity, wonder, and undeniable lust. The light of the flame lit his darkened profile, the smoke surrounding the glass. He had started a fire in the fireplace and it was a site I didn’t want to tarnish with words. Could we just face each other and not say anything?
He sat at a table with a glowing liquid on the rocks in his hand, the backdrop of the storm behind him. And then he looked at me.
“It wasn’t my fault, you know. I never was the one. My drunken-ass friend did it. You have to believe me.” The cigar made circles and dives from his hand accompanying his rapid confession.
I blinked back shock from the sudden, in-your-face matter of truth. I walked closer and stood feet away. It was the closest I’d been to him in nearly a decade. He was a man now. A very hot man. I crossed my arms and refused to let my teenager heart to come out. This was a matter that needed to finally be discussed. And it wasn’t a pretty one.
“Well, why should I? Why do I even matter anymore to you? We’re no longer family.”
“Look at me. Will you?” He stood up and the tension between us flirted along the lines of danger and insane temptation. I wanted to take a few steps back but the smell of the smoke laced with his cologne made me want to bury my head into his chest, to feel the softness of the robe and the touch of his hands.
“I’m not bullshitting with you right now. If there’s one thing my dad’s sudden passing taught me, it’s that you don’t know how long you have. You’re here right now in this room. You could leave and never speak to me again. But I want you to know one thing— you’re the girl I never could have. And that video of you…” He sucked in a breath and exhale the smoke.
“Don’t bring that up, okay?” Earth to Kate. I came to my senses and took a few small steps back. “I don’t want to go emotionally crazy right now. Do you know how much therapy I went through and how many problems that created for me?”
“Do you know how much therapy and problems that created for me? I was the one forever scared. After I saw your breasts and those sweet moans from you, with your legs spread eagle, teasing me….”
“I wasn’t teasing you.”
“Unbeknownst to you. Anyway, I felt like a freaking sicko. I was in love with my stepsister.”
“In love?”
“And then you went away to boarding school. I was kept from your sight by Father. You know, he did find out what happened and was mad as hell at me forever.”
“Oh my god, did—”
“He didn’t see a thing. I promise.” His voice softened and he slowed his delivery down. “But then you disappeared out of my life. I didn’t even get to tell you I was sorry in person.”
“And how did that feel? You actually felt something?”
Chapter 6
BRADLEY
* * *
It stung like a rubber band slapped in my face. The fact that people saw me, saw the man who was heir to the throne, so to speak, but they didn’t know my own wounds of watching my mother die at a young age. I had to keep it together. To be the man of the house. My father hated emotion, any sign of weakness. I was taught since I could remember to be unreadable like a man playing poker. But I had a deep heart. One that for awhile I numbed down. But now it was time to face the facts, to face the person I hurt so I could
finally be free to be me.
It would be a new era for the Rainshaws, one where I call the shots. One where I make amends to those I hurt. One where I make my voice heard and known. No more drowning my sorrows. The way she stood there with the light of the embers glowing against her skin, the glow of the light against her innocent eyes, I wanted to undress her and make her feel pleasure that would erase a thousand times over and over again any hurt or shame I brought into her life. I wanted to pin her arms above her head, and make her come over and over again before showering her with gifts, with luxury, to show her she was a woman to be adored. With any other woman, I knew just the right moves. The one or two champagne drinks, the gifts, the fancy trips in my private jet. But she’s different. Those things won’t work with her. They can’t work with her. I’d have to come to her with a different angle.
She had taken a seat now across from me and poured her own drink and took it like a man. She waited for an answer and I realized I was lost in thought and didn’t know where to take this conversation.
“Fuck it.”
“Look, I’m sorry, Bradley. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings like that. It wasn’t nice of me.”
Seeing her nipples harden in that thin shirt made my junior swell and throb. I was going to have to relieve myself, the pressure was too intense. I would ravage her. So, I had to do what I did best: leave under false pretense. I cleared my throat, played up the best puppy dog face I could. After all, I had just buried my father.
The air was silent as I dropped a few cubes into my glass. She could have burned a hole in my head. Every part of my being wanted to lay my pride down and stay in the room. But I had to stay the course. This was the only way with her.
Pouring my scotch, I stared at the fierce waves from the storm. We would be stuck for at least the next three days from the damage and closed roads. One thing was for certain: I had time to defrost her iced-over heart.
GRIND: A Stepbrother Romance Page 18