Love, Lies and Blood Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 2)

by C. J. Laurence

  “Don’t call me that,” Luke said, shrugging off Mason’s hand.

  Even his fingers were long and slender, almost like a pianists, the total opposite of Luke’s shovels. Mason ran a hand through his curly grey flecked hair and laughed. “So uptight. I think someone needs a massage.” He looked me square in the eyes and said, “Have you not been giving your man a massage, young lady? That’s not very accommodating.”

  I jerked my head backwards, rather taken aback, and slightly peed off, by his direct and unwelcome approach. Before I could even think of a sarcastic response to reply with, Luke scraped his chair back and stood up.

  “Shut up, Mason, before I make you.”

  Mason’s dark eyes flashed with joy. “You’d love to, wouldn’t you? Bet you’d love to get your Shrek hands around my throat and squeeze the life out of me, hey, ogre?”

  Suddenly, I found myself rather grateful that I’d put my mum off wanting more kids. If this were the depths sibling relationships could go to, I definitely didn’t want one.

  “If you speak to her like that again, I’ll bury you alive so deep not even the dogs could smell you.”

  “That sounds like a fun challenge actually. Shall we?”

  Luke clenched his fist as his cheeks burned red. “I’m warning you.”

  “Oh, stop it you two,” said a cheery, female voice.

  I turned to the counter to see a petite brunette coming out of the kitchen with two plates in her hands. She couldn’t have been much more than five feet tall. Her sleek brown hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail, revealing her huge Bambi like eyes glaring at her brothers.

  “Hi,” she said, giving me a warm smile. “I’m Maddy.”

  I smiled back. “Caitlyn, or Cat for short.”

  She nodded and then took the plates to a table behind us. Seconds later, she walked straight up to Mason and shoved him so hard in his chest, he actually stumbled back. “Leave them alone, Mason.”

  Mason kept his stare on Luke for several seconds before flickering his attention down to his little sister. “I’ve not seen him for months.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s a new toy to play with.”

  “No, but she is,” he said, nodding at me.

  Luke lunged at his brother with such explosive ferocity, even Mason ran backwards.

  “Luke!” Maddy yelled, putting her hands on his stomach in an attempt to push him back.

  I scrambled up and grabbed Luke’s hand. When I touched him, he looked at me instantly. “Remember what you said to me? To ignore him?”

  “I won’t tolerate disrespect towards you.”

  “They’re only words, Luke.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Hey, if he knows what buttons to press, he’s going to press them. Dickheads like him get bored quickly. Don’t react. He’ll move on.”

  Mason snorted. “I’m not a dickhead, thank you.”

  I turned around and glared at him. “Actually, I agree. But given we’re in public, I think dickhead is the politest thing I could think of.”

  “And given you’re a lady, you should watch your tongue.”

  For some reason, a ball of fury erupted inside me. The blood in my veins boiled with contempt. How dare he say such a chauvinistic thing to me? Where did he think we were, in the Middle ages?

  I let go of Luke and narrowed my eyes at him. “What did you just say to me?”

  All of a sudden, a freezing cold gust of wind blew through the café, slamming the front door shut with a definitive bang.

  The twinkle in Mason’s eyes vanished. He glanced at the door.

  “Cat,” Luke said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s just ignore him.”

  Luke’s touch put me at ease immediately. The ire in my belly evaporated leaving me wondering what the hell had just happened. I’d never reacted like that or felt such…violent emotions. I wanted him to goad me so I could hurt him. I wanted to teach him a lesson and bring him down a peg or two.

  “Mason, out,” Maddy said, marching to the door and opening it. “Now.”

  Mason looked at Luke and shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

  Luke turned his back on his brother and ushered me towards my chair. “Are you ok?” he asked, as he sat back down.

  I nodded. To be honest, I was still a little frightened by my sudden outburst, even though it had been internal. I didn’t quite know how to process it.

  “I’m so sorry about him,” Luke said, giving me a sympathetic smile.

  “It’s ok. It’s not your fault.”

  Maddy took our orders and left us to regain some equilibrium after the unexpected confrontation. As much as I tried to engage in conversation again, I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was wrong with me.

  Chapter Three

  Thankfully, Mason didn’t return. As promised, Maddy’s cooking was absolutely delicious, even better than Sophie’s in my opinion but of course I’d never tell her that.

  “Why did Mason call you a brother from another mother?” I asked, picking at a hash brown.

  Luke pulled his lips into a thin line. “My brothers and sisters all have the same parents except for me. I’m the odd one out. Same father, different mother.”

  “Ah, ok.” I couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to poke at stuff.”

  He shook his head. “Their mum died years ago. When my father met my mother, they had no intentions of adding any more children. She already had two and my father already had seven. Still, I guess the universe felt an even ten was better than nine.”

  “Are they all local? Your brothers and sisters?”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  “You don’t have issues like that with all of them, surely?”

  He laughed. “No, just Mason. There’s always been sour grapes between us. Probably because I’m a constant reminder that his dad moved on.”

  “What did he expect? Your dad to be single forever?”

  “Knowing Mason, most likely. He’s rather unreasonable at the best of times.”

  “You don’t say.”

  We both laughed and finished up our drinks. Maddy reappeared to take our empty cups and gave Luke a cheeky wink. “Seeing as you’ve finally brought someone to meet us, does that mean you’ve told her your biggest secret?”

  Luke’s face visibly paled. “No, Maddy, I haven’t.”

  She put a hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oops. Did I let the cat out of the bag?”

  I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “This sounds good.”

  “It’s not a good climate to find jobs, Madeline,” Luke said, frowning.

  “Oh, I love it when you use my full name. Makes me feel all naughty,” she said, giggling as she skipped back to the kitchen.

  I grinned at Luke.

  “What?”

  “Come on. You’ve got to tell me now.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s really not that good.”

  “I think I should be the judge of that.”

  Maddy returned with two side plates, two thick chunks of Victoria sponge with oozing cream and strawberry jam. “Here you go,” she said, her voice all high and sweet.

  “This doesn’t cut it as an apology,” Luke said, snatching at a plate and digging in with a fork.

  Maddy grabbed a chair from the next table and sat down next to me. “Did you notice anything weird about our names?” she said, bumping my shoulder with hers and smiling at Luke.

  I thought over the three names I’d heard so far—Mason, Marissa, Maddy. It took me a second or two to wonder. Not sure if I might be wrong, I hesitantly asked, “Is it they all begin with M?”

  “She’s a clever one, hey, Luke?” Maddy said, bouncing her leg up and down under the table.

  A wide grin burst out over my face. “Am I right in guessing Luke isn’t your first name?”

  He narrowed his eyes at his sister. “I hate you so much right now.”

  “No, you don’t. You love my cake
too much.”

  Luke continued stuffing the fluffy cake into his mouth with a deep crease on his forehead.

  “Luke is also short for something,” she whispered to me.

  “Alright,” he said, putting his fork down and glaring at his sister. “Enough now. Get. Scram.”

  Giggling like a naughty toddler, Maddy headed back into the kitchen.

  “I like her,” I said, trying to control my grin.

  “I don’t anymore,” he said, standing up. “Come on, let’s go riding. I’ve got lots I want to show you.”

  “But nothing you want to tell me?”

  The beginnings of a smirk tweaked at his lips. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  ***

  Luke showed me around all the farms and the land that he owned. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We ambled around at a steady walk, chatting about anything and everything—except the case of his mysterious name.

  He seemed in such a good mood after the confrontation with his brother that I didn’t want to spoil how well things were going by potentially pushing him back into a bad mood so I left it—for the time being. I had no intentions of forgetting it, that was for sure.

  My problems with Dad and Marcus seemed a whole other world away from the peaceful bubble Luke had created. Riding Missy was nothing but a pleasure and when it came to finally getting off, I really didn’t want to.

  “Have I converted you then?” he asked.

  I debated suggesting a trade for my answer for his name but wasn’t quite brave enough. “Perhaps. Maybe I need another ride or two to make up my mind.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  By the time we got back to his house and collapsed on the sofa, the realisation of going home hit me. Almost instantly, the relaxation and enjoyment from the day became replaced with anxiety.

  “What’s up?” Luke said, watching me bite my nails.

  “Kinda nervous about going home. Not sure of the reaction I’m going to get.”

  “When are you going?”

  I looked at the clock—six p.m. already. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s best to leave it until tomorrow or whether to brave it tonight.”

  “What do you feel is right?”

  “In all honesty, tomorrow. But when I think about leaving it until tomorrow all I can think about is that he’ll say I should have come home tonight.”

  “Cat, you’re overthinking again. Just go with your gut feeling. Do what’s right for you. You’ve done what your dad needed by giving him some space for the weekend. Now this part is about what you need. He’s not an unreasonable man.”

  I snorted. “You do remember yesterday morning, right?”

  He chuckled. “Come on now, we both know there are extenuating circumstances here. You caught him by surprise with something he thought he had control of at the direst time of his life.”

  Tears pricked at my eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Moving to sit next to me, he curled an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. “I didn’t mean it like that. How would you feel about staying here another night and then we both head to yours in the morning? Would that make you feel better?”

  A wave of relief washed through me. “You have no idea. Yes, please. Thank you.”

  He grinned. “How about a Chinese takeaway and some Netflix?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting Netflix and chill to me?”

  He burst out laughing. “The fact we’ll have to sit on my bed to watch it has no underlying meaning to what I’m suggesting.” He cleared his throat. “How about we have a Chinese and watch some TV?”

  I giggled. “Sure, sounds good to me.”

  Giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze first, he then let me go and walked over to the mantelpiece to grab his phone. When I told him I’d eat anything with prawns in it, I didn’t expect him to order what sounded like the entire seafood range from the Chinese.

  “How much food do you think I eat?” I asked when he hung up.

  A sly grin spread over his face. “How much food do you think I eat?” He gestured down at himself. “It’s been a while since I indulged in prawns so I thought I’d take the opportunity. Unless of course you want it all for yourself? I’m happy to order more and keep it for leftovers.”

  I shook my head. “I usually only have a chow mein or a rice dish and maybe some spring rolls or wontons.”

  “Is that all?”

  I frowned. “Yeah…”

  “No wonder you haven’t got any meat on your bones. Good call on the wontons though.”

  Before I could open my mouth, he’d redialled the restaurant and ordered wontons, spring rolls, and two portions of chicken chow mein. My jaw dropped.

  “What?” he asked, sliding his phone in his pocket.

  “First, I dread to think how much that lot will cost. Second, how much food?”

  An impish grin unfolded over his handsome face. “First, it’s not up to you to worry over cost, this is my treat. Second, this is pretty much my diet. One giant order from the Chinese usually lasts me the week, sometimes more, sometimes less.”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Why?”

  “Haven’t you heard of a supermarket?”

  He laughed. “Ok, let me stop you there. Men and supermarkets—bad idea. All we do is chuck stuff in the trolley that’s completely irrelevant and will last about five hours max. Then we end up at the overpriced corner shop where we buy more useless crap that lasts maybe a day at the most. This way—” he pointed at his phone “—I avoid the shops and save myself a load of money at the same time. It’s a win win.”

  I giggled. His logic had some sense but also major flaws. “Ok, what about your diet? I’m sure noodles and bean sprouts aren’t supposed to be what you sustain yourself on. What about fruit and veg, leafy greens, that kind of thing?”

  He pursed his lips and frowned. “Well, the chow mein has green bits in it, from spring onions I think. Oh, and the Cantonese style dishes have carrots, pineapple, and peppers in. Then there’s the vegetable spring rolls. The key thing is right there in the name.”

  I facepalmed myself and shook my head. “Oh my word. You are unbelievable.”

  “Why thank you,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “And we’ve not even been in my bedroom yet.”

  “Luke!” I threw a sofa cushion at him and laughed. “Stop it.”

  “Somebody’s blushing,” he said in a mocking voice. “You look so cute.”

  “Cute? I’m not six.” I grabbed another cushion and hurled it at him, smacking him square in the chest.

  “You throw like a girl.” He chuckled to himself as he picked up the cushions and placed them back on the sofa.

  “I throw like a girl, because I am a girl.”

  He nodded. “Yes. You throw like a six-year-old girl.”

  “Teach me how to throw properly then,” I said, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Game on. But not with my sofa cushions. We’ll save that as a project for the next time I save you from Mr Darcy, sorry, Davenport.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Stop it…”

  He grinned. “Couldn’t help it. Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “No, you’re right, I’m not.”

  I laughed. “I can see the resemblance though. The whole sexy smouldering glances and mysterious ways about him.”

  Luke laughed. “I’m bowing out of this conversation before I end up with my sofa feebly thrown at me. What would you like to drink?”

  “Chicken. I think my throws are good and that’s why you’re bowing out. Just a squash will do, thank you.”

  “You keep telling yourself that,” he said, smirking. “Squash? Come on, Cat. You can be a bit more daring than that.”

  “Are you trying to get me drunk whilst locking me in your bedroom with the ‘TV’?” I asked, smiling.

  “Not at all. I’m merely suggesting that you relax with the aid of al
cohol and should you become unstable, I will be there to help.”

  I burst out laughing. “What have you got?”

  “You name it, I’ve got it.”

  “Strawberries, champagne, and chambord.”

  “Except that.” He ran out of the room and returned seconds later with a punnet of fresh strawberries. “I do have these though.”

  “Wow, you have fruit!”

  “I am partial to being a bit fruity now and again,” he said, giving me a cheeky wink.

  I knew this was only banter and meant in jest but at the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think how I’d feel if Marcus had this kind of a conversation with another woman. Would it bother me? I couldn’t say. Although, if that woman happened to be Selina, yes, it most definitely would.

  “Have you got any Malibu? Or Vodka? Or Peach Schnapps? I love that stuff!”

  He disappeared again and reappeared with all three of my said drinks.

  “Have you got a hidden bar or something?”

  “Maybe,” he said, grinning.

  “Can I have Schnapps and lemonade please?”

  “Coming right up.”

  I followed him into the kitchen, marvelling at the huge traditional farmhouse décor. Everything was wood, proper solid oak, and it harboured that delicious aged smell that historic things seem to somehow acquire. He even had an old Aga against the back wall which looked to be in pristine condition.

  “You have that and you don’t cook?”

  “That’s why I don’t cook. I’m preserving it.”

  I laughed. “That’s such a lame excuse.”

  “Hey, I’m a busy man. Grab and go meals are what suits my lifestyle.”

  “Ahhhh, poppity-ping food. You know they sell that in the supermarkets?”

  He laughed. “What did you just say?”

  “They sell microwave meals in the supermarkets.”

  “No, before that.”

  My cheeks flared with heat. “Poppity-ping.”

  “What is that?”

  I giggled. “My great nan was Welsh. That’s what they call microwave meals. I loved the way she used to say it when I was a kid and it’s just kind of stuck.”

  “Poppity-ping,” he said, popping the p’s. “I like that better than ding-box.”