by C. M. Owens
She laughs like she finds it funny. I still have nightmares about that fucking room.
She dusts her hands off, finished with her slice of pizza, and sips the rest of her wine as a comfortable silence falls between us.
“What about serious girlfriends?” she asks, going back to unpacking a box as though she’s disinterested.
“Closest thing was Chloe Macintosh. We had a casual arrangement for years, but it was never a relationship. It ended fairly recently because she’s not exactly someone I want to be cool with anymore, at least not until she chokes up a sincere apology to Dale’s fiancée. Star Morgan was another semi-casual thing, but that nearly cost me one of my best friends. In other words, nothing serious.”
“Nothing at all? Aren’t you like twenty-seven or something?” she asks, understandably confused.
“I was busy with sports and school until I graduated. Then in college I was loaded down with courses, double majoring in business and marketing. After college, I went into business for myself, sometimes with my cousins. Casual works best for me, and since I’m not looking to marry, there’s no reason to date.”
She pauses working in her box, looking over at me with curious eyes. “You can date without getting married. I have zero intentions of ever marrying. I still like the occasional boyfriend, even though I know it’ll end. It’s worth the goodbye to get those early relationship flutters from time to time.”
Clearing my throat, I look away, unpacking another box. “People get hurt when one wants to be serious and the other doesn’t. Different end games and all. I don’t want to be the reason some girl is in tears if I can help it.”
When the silence stretches on, I finally look over at her to find her grinning at me, all her attention focused my way.
“What?” I prompt.
“Nothing. I just find it cute how you think we’re so fragile that a girl would never bounce back from liking you, Maverick Sterling. Also, way vain. Your ego must be cramped inside this house.”
I snort, rolling my eyes as I finish up another box and start on the final one.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I mutter, causing her to laugh.
“People date. People break up. Nothing is so tragic that someone can’t move on to another relationship. And no one is so epic that they rip the hearts from someone’s chest, leaving them unable to move forward. Like ever. Everyone likes that connection of being with someone who wants to make them feel good, even if it is short-lived.”
We’ll have to agree to disagree.
“What about you? Anything serious?”
Her eyes get a distant glaze, but she offers me a tight smile. “Few times. I have terrible taste in guys.”
I flip her off, and she grins genuinely.
“Our quickie doesn’t count,” she says, winking at me.
“Warmup,” I remind her. “What happened with the serious ones?”
She looks away. “One slept with my mother, and one slept with my one and only female friend,” she says, not looking at me as she slides the pizza box out of the way.
“That’s…fucked up.”
“Yeah. My mother didn’t approve of me falling in love when she saw the way my boyfriend was constantly checking her out. Guess it’s good she fucked him before I did fall in love. Would have sucked twice as bad, huh?” she asks, aiming for joking.
Girls with a past like Salem are usually bitter or bitchy. I find it a little fascinating that she’s neither.
“Tell me something really personal about you. This usually helps the friend process to move along,” I say, shifting the subject since she’s gone quiet on me.
“Something more personal than my mother sleeping with one of my boyfriends?” she asks, a small smile ghosting her lips.
“Something a little lighter maybe. We jumped into the big stuff a little soon,” I say, moving a little closer when she laughs.
“Seriously. Tell me something,” I go on, unsure why I’m fucking going on with the twenty questions.
“I have an allergy to pet hair,” she states automatically, never glancing at me.
I want to laugh at the irony of it.
“Your turn,” she says, digging out more bowls.
“I have a hairless cat with a demon inside her.”
She frowns as she faces me. “I never saw a cat when I was there.”
“She was at the vet. Had to get her spayed. Really hoping that makes her sane or something, because that pussy is crazy.”
She laughs like I’m joking.
I’m not.
I watch her as she stretches up on her tiptoes, putting a large plastic bowl near the top. Groaning inwardly, I try to tell the wayward appendage that I’m wearing her brother’s sweats and that it’s gross to be all pressed up against the front of them while I watch the unknown guy’s sister’s ass.
Who also happens to be my stepsister.
Fuck. When did shit get so complicated?
My phone rings on the counter, and I answer it when I see Kode’s name. “What’s going on?”
“We’re heading to Dane’s. Where the hell are you?”
Right. I sort of ditched them and never called them back.
“I’m at the beach house near the strip. I’m busy right now, so go on without me.”
I catch Salem’s head turn in my direction, but I only notice it from my peripheral.
“Seriously? You’re the one who wanted us to all go out tonight, and you’re just bailing?” he groans. “I could have been in bed with Tria, you fuckwad.”
I hear giggling that I know is Tria, and I roll my eyes. It is shitty to bail on a night that I planned out.
“Fine. I’ll head that way in a few.”
“Gee, don’t sound overjoyed, dickhead.”
Hanging up on him, I turn to face Salem, who gives me a small smile.
“Feel like riding with me to a friend’s house?” I ask her. “Well, actually my cousin’s house. But we’re all close like friends. Or brothers. Hell, we’re tight.”
I’m seriously fucking rambling right now. I don’t like it. Not one little bit.
“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to stay in and eat some more pizza. Maybe catch a movie if I can find something worth watching.”
Trying not to find that option more appealing, since it shouldn’t be, I nod as I pocket my phone. “Care if I return the clothes later? I doubt mine are dry yet.”
They probably are, but I need an excuse to return. You know, to be friends with her and all. Not to pin her against the wall again and get her loosened up enough to let me kiss her like she almost did before the pizza fucker messed it up.
“Sure,” she says quickly, then clears her throat and bats her hand. “No problem. You’re my stepbrother now, so you can borrow clothes when you need to.”
She awkwardly punches my shoulder, like she’s trying a little too hard for the friend angle. I smile at her teasingly, arching an eyebrow as she palms her face.
“I made that weird, didn’t I?”
My grin grows. “Little bit.”
She mutters a curse, and I restrain the laughter trying to escape.
“So I’ll see you later then,” she drawls, like she can’t stop herself from talking.
The easy banter from earlier is gone now, replaced with this rapidly devolving, rambling version of herself. It’s fucking cute as hell.
“Yeah. Later,” I agree.
I start to step toward her, and she punches my shoulder again like a friendly but incredibly awkward gesture.
“Alright then. Have fun, buddy,” she says in a tone a little too high-pitched.
A snort of laughter escapes me, and she crosses her arms over her chest before groaning. “I’ll stop talking. And punching your shoulder. Like right now. Leave before I keep doing stupid shit.”
I back away, holding my hands up innocently, and wink at her before walking toward the door.
There’s no way in hell I can be friends with Salem Wright. This migh
t just be the one time my tactic doesn’t work.
Chapter 7
SALEM
“You look fat,” Mom sighs, pinching the small bit of softness on my stomach.
I’m not fat. I’m also not a rail.
Batting her hand away earns me a snort of irritation. “You look vapid. Guess none of us are perfect,” I say with a dark smile.
She sighs again. “Careful, Salem. You have good genes, but you can still get fat if you try hard enough. Are you moved in?”
“Mostly. Where’s Sean? You said he’d be—”
“He’s on his way from the airport. His father cut their time short. Predictably. Hence the reason my honeymoon was cut short.”
I hold my tongue.
Sean got about as lucky with life as I did. We’re the only two out of the four offspring my mother has pushed out who have the absent father issue. At least mine has a good excuse.
“You said he’d be here, which is why I’m here,” I remind her.
“I just told you he’s on his way now,” she says dismissively.
“If I had known you weren’t picking him up from the airport, I would have gone to get him myself,” I bite out.
“His father had to ride with him and walk him to the car I sent. Really, Salem, it’s not as though I’m letting my child wander around a busy airport. Play your part, Salem. Happy daughter. Beautiful girl. Sweet disposition. Or Sean can just stay full time until you remember your place.”
One day, I will be able to punch her in the face. Just as soon as she stops having kids, that is. I’ve never prayed for menopause to hit someone as much as I pray for it to happen to her.
She’s not always terrible. And I know she has her reasons for all the shitty things she does, given her past and her experience. But those reasons are not always good enough to make it easy to bear her.
“Where’s the new husband?” I ask her in deflection, carrying her away from the threats.
“He’s somewhere,” she says, gesturing around the huge freaking house. Very well may be the largest one she’s scored yet.
Just how rich is Ian Sterling?
She starts guiding me through the home, and I slowly slip on the mask I’ve worn so many times for the new family. Well, the mask I wear when my mother is around, rather. She needs that Stepford illusion thing to keep them thinking she’s perfection incarnate.
Just as we round the corner, a very gorgeous, older man comes walking out, though he doesn’t look quite old enough to be Ian.
“Ian, darlin’, there you are,” Mom says, her face bright as she steps into him. His arms go around her, and ewwww.
He totally grabs two handfuls of ass right in front of me. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her, and I look around, you know, trying not to vomit and stuff.
“Oh shit,” Ian says, drawing my attention back as he releases my mother. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there. You must be Salem.”
Wearing my practiced smile, I nod, extending my hand. He takes it, but just as our hands grip…I see someone I wasn’t expecting.
Brown eyes meet mine over Ian’s shoulder as my overly-familiar stepbrother walks out of a room. Maverick looks as surprised as I do, but a slow grin curves his lips.
Damn sexy lips.
What’s he doing here?
Surely he doesn’t still live at home.
“Really good grip,” Ian says through strain, reminding me I’m squeezing the ever-loving-hell out of his hand.
“Salem, really,” Mom scolds under her breath.
This causes Maverick’s cheeky grin to grow.
I finally release Ian’s hand, and he discreetly shakes out the pain. Maverick steps closer, joining the little awkward circle. See? I knew this would be weird. I totally wasn’t expecting him to be here, and I didn’t think I’d have to deal with the weirdness so soon.
“Maverick, this is my daughter, Salem Wright. Salem, this is Ian’s only son,” Mom says with every ounce of elegance she possesses.
I start to speak, probably to say something stupid, but Maverick beats me to it. “Salem and I are already friendly,” the asshole says, his eyes sparkling with humor.
Mom’s eyes slant accusingly toward me. Shit.
“Oh?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.
“When you told me Salem had been here for three days already, I sent Maverick over to help her settle in,” Ian says, saving my ass.
He brushes his knuckles over my mother’s cheek, and she stops glaring at me as she relaxes. “You didn’t have to do that,” she tells Ian.
“I had nothing else going on,” Maverick answers, his gaze flicking to my mother. “Besides, Salem is family now, right?”
I choke on air, and Mother cuts her gaze to me again. I’m really terrible at this discretion thing.
Maverick’s laughing eyes tell me he’s thinking the same thing.
“Bug,” I lie, coughing one last time.
“There aren’t any bugs here,” Mom states dismissively, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind and probably wondering if I’m high or something.
“So, Maverick, were you just leaving?” I ask hopefully, my gaze moving back to him.
Subtle, Salem. Real freaking subtle.
His grin, as always, remains perfectly fixed on his stupidly perfect face.
“Actually, I was. Just dropped off all the business contracts Dad had me handling in his absence. We should do lunch sometime. Be friends.”
Funny guy, this one. Real funny.
“I’m sure she’d love that,” Mom answers as I glare at the grinning prick, who is quickly on his way to becoming the bane of my existence.
Mom is growing increasingly annoyed with my current ridiculousness, though the other two would never be able to tell it. But I can tell she’s no longer suspicious of Maverick and me. At least there’s that.
“We’ll have dinner next week. Let everyone meet everyone. Though I hate that Connor and Tyler won’t be here,” Ian goes on.
He seems like a genuinely nice person. I hate that he got sucked into my mother’s using web.
“Connor and Tyler?” Maverick asks, pretending I haven’t spoken of them to cover just how well we’ve gotten to know each other.
“My brothers,” I say with a tight smile. “Connor lives up north, currently in college. Tyler lives just outside of Atlanta.”
He nods slowly, a smile coming up again. “Whose clothes did I borrow?” he asks me.
I’m killing him. Just as soon as I find something sharp.
“Connor’s,” I bite out.
“Clothes you borrowed?” Mom asks, confused, a little suspicion sneaking back into her tone.
“Little mishap with the garden hose left me soaked last night, and Salem was kind enough to lend me some clothes,” Maverick tells her.
It’s just enough truth to keep the misleading undertones a secret from my very shrewd mother, who relaxes again.
“Oh, I meant to show you something,” Ian says to my mother, tugging her hand in his and guiding her away. “Maverick, I’ll call you about setting up a dinner.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Maverick says, grinning at me as my mother walks away.
As soon as they turn the corner, I slap Maverick across his really hard stomach, causing him to laugh and me to wince. That was definitely not the intended effect.
“Violent little thing, aren’t you?” he muses as I shake my stinging hand.
“What was that?” I hiss, glancing by him, paranoid my mother will hear.
“My very sexy, rock hard abs. You think you’d know not to hit them,” he deadpans.
Gonna be the death of me.
“Not that,” I growl. “All that. You just flirted with me in front of our parents.”
“That wasn’t flirting. That was just me being friendly.”
He waggles his eyebrows, and I glare at him, unamused.
Rolling his eyes, he steps closer, and I step back. “Relax. That’s how I always am—with everyone. If I
’d acted any differently, my father would have been questioning what happened when I went over there last night. Little does he know that I’ve already—”
I lunge and cover his mouth with my hand before he can finish that, looking past him to see if our parents are coming back yet. His hands go to my hips, jerking me until I’m slammed against his really hard body, and then the bastard licks my hand.
Licks. My. Hand.
Who does that?
I try to pull back, but he just holds me. I do, however, move my wet-palm hand off his mouth.
“Anyone ever tell you that you get a little too worked up?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you can’t take anything serious?” I volley, still glaring, even though my neck is craned way back to see the tall bastard’s amused eyes.
“All the time,” he quips. “I really do need to be going, but I’ll swing by sometime soon to return the clothes, friend.”
He releases me, and I take a step back as he grins.
“No shoulder punches before I go?” the dick asks.
“The next thing I punch won’t be your shoulder or your rock hard abs,” I inform him with a cruel smile, letting my eyes briefly drop to his crotch to drive home my meaning.
He laughs, turning and walking toward the exit. I think. This place is massive and I have no idea how to navigate it.
I glance out the window nearest to me, finding myself watching him as he walks toward a silver Audi. Guess that’s why I didn’t know he was here. Of course he has more than just one car.
Rich guys.
Grrr.
He turns, his eyes colliding with mine through the window, and he grins again before getting into his car.
My inconvenient attraction to my stepbrother continues to be a pain in my ass.
But as he pulls out, I see a black sedan pulling in, and my smile spreads as the driver opens the door for a very familiar face. It feels like months instead of two weeks since I saw my youngest brother.
I dart out of the room, racing around to find the entrance, and…get lost. Because this house is freaking huge. And it’s designed to confuse the Maze Runners or something.
I hear a door shutting somewhere, and I blow out a frustrated breath, hoping it is Sean.