by Mary Beesley
His brows rose a fraction, as if reading her want. His eyes dilated. Tempest forced a scowl, jerking her gaze away. Her anger landed on Silvia, who reeled back.
Silvia dropped her wreath and stood. “Please excuse my ill-mannered son.”
Tempest took a deep breath, then exhaled the heavy emotions. “It’s fine! Please don’t worry. I’m not much for crafting, and I’m not about to pretend this is anything but garbage.”
Silvia looked like she was about to cry.
“I think it’s time for pie,” Zena said.
Silvia nodded, her face down-turned. “I’ll go get the ice cream from the back freezer.”
Leo looked sorry. “I’ll get it.”
“No.” Silvia darted out of the room.
Zena lowered her brows at her brother. “Why’d you have to make her cry?”
Leo lifted his hands. “I didn’t mean to. It was not a big deal. Tempest doesn’t feel bad. Mom’s being super sensitive.”
“This meal was important to her. She really wanted us to get along and all be friends.”
“We’re friends,” Leo said, voice exasperated.
Zena looked from Tempest to Leo, clearly not believing it.
“But I don’t get why she’s making such a big thing of this,” Leo said.
Dad walked into the kitchen. “Halftime.” He looked over the tight faces at the craft table. “Where’s Silvia?”
“I’m here.” She scurried in and dropped her armful of ice cream containers on the counter. She reached out and caught the rocky road before it plummeted to the floor.
“Ready for pie?” Dad emphasized the last word, making Tempest think of something sexual instead of food. She curled her lip in disgust. Silvia saw it. Tempest switched to a quick smile, but Silvia’s eyes pinched in, her face portraying distress.
“Maybe not that today,” Silvia said. “I don’t think it’s the right time.” Her gaze slid to Tempest and Leo for a nanosecond.
Dad cocked his chin in confusion. “But—”
“Time for what?” Jo asked, coming into the kitchen with her husband and baby.
“Pie.” Zena echoed the weird way Dad has said it.
“What’s going on?” Jo’s keen gaze seemed to gobble up the different expressions on everyone’s faces.
That’s when the chill of dread started in Tempest’s lower belly.
Dad’s smile lit up his face as he stepped to Silvia’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. Silvia looked a little shy, but mostly she seemed giddy.
Oh no. Not that. No way.
“We have a little announcement,” Dad said.
All the air sucked out of the room.
“We’re getting married.” Silvia’s voice was an eager squeak.
Dad laid a kiss on Silvia before his glittering gaze traveled over the gathered children, all shocked to stone. “We love each other, and we can’t wait to join our families.”
Tempest looked at Leo. He looked at her. If their parents married, what did that make them?
Brother and sister.
Chapter Seven
The Run-In
The rock-climbing gym was busy. Leo was annoyed. Why weren’t all these people home nursing their Thanksgiving hangovers? Maybe he should build his own climbing wall. It would be private. And it would be sanitary. He wanted to use the blue hold to the left, but another man’s shoe was jammed in there like he wasn’t moving on for a good long while. Sweat dripped down the gray-haired man’s temples and pooled in giant swaths on his shirt. The man lifted his arm, and one of the climbing holds went right into the wet armpit. Gross. Leo’s fingers curled on his gritty hold, and his stomach clenched. Why had he agreed to do this?
“To the right.” Zena called up to him from where she belayed on the ground. “There’s one just over that lip.”
He considered letting go, but now that he’d started this, he had to finish. He tried not to think about all the dirty bodies that had rubbed up against this wall. “I hope you’re holding on,” he said to his sister. He grunted as he swung, reaching for the next hold. And the next. He went faster than he could think. He leapt long before he looked. But it worked out. That’s the thing about risk sometimes. And this time he made it to the top in less than twenty-four seconds. “Coming down.” He thrust away from the wall without waiting.
Zena responded with a grunt as her body jerked forward. She adjusted and slowed his rapid rappel. He landed on the balls of his feet.
“How are you so good at this?” she asked.
“Sheer determination.” He rubbed his grimy hands together. “And fear.”
“You hate this.” Her face fell.
“I like climbing.” He didn’t add that he liked it outside. On sun-sanitized rocks and without random people. “Your turn.” He needed a shower. Right now. “See if you can beat my time.”
“That’s a fun game.” Her voice dripped sarcasm.
After they switched the ropes, she stepped close to the wall and stared up.
“Ready, go.” His hands felt disgusting. “And climb.”
She touched a hold, then changed her mind and moved to another.
Before Leo could pressure her anymore, a young man approached. “Your boyfriend giving you a hard time?”
She looked the guy over, assessing. She must have liked what she saw because she nodded her head toward Leo. “He’s my brother. And yes, he’s giving me a very hard time.”
Then the flirting began.
When the guy seemed to think he needed to touch Zena’s spandex-clad legs in order to help her, Leo zoned out. He should have gone to Barbados like he’d originally planned—until his mom begged him to stay for her special Thanksgiving with the new boyfriend. Yesterday had been a horror movie. He could not have been a worse host. Tempest had invaded his unprotected heart like an army, and he wasn’t thrilled to discover how not over her he turned out to be. And she could not have been more difficult. Not to mention she’d been wearing his earrings. Did that mean anything? She’d played it off well, as if men routinely sent her apology sapphires. But the real problem was his mom was engaged to marry Tempest’s dad. And Mom seemed so happy. Well, not happy with Leo at the moment. He would need to apologize to her. He was so sick of saying sorry. He’d thought all his texts to Tempest were romantic; now he realized how stupid and needy he must have sounded. At least he’d cancelled their date Saturday in time to salvage the remains of his pride. He needed to forget her.
“Let me down!”
He looked up to where Zena swung at the top of the room, kicking out from the wall and glaring at him. How long had she been up there? He let out the rope, and she descended. She was smiling again by the time her feet hit the floor. “That was majorly fun. Want to go again?”
“No.”
She pouted.
“That dude will be your partner as long as you want.” He glanced at the guy across the room who kept peeking back at her.
“Do we think he’s cute?”
“I wouldn’t do him.”
She rubbed at the chalk on her palms.
“Decide fast because if you’re riding with me, I’m outta here.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
He partook liberally of the hand sanitizer by the door.
“Thanks for doing this with me,” she said.
And just like that, he didn’t regret coming. He put his arm around her shoulders as he steered her toward the car. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Or Mom?” She looked at him with a bit of a grimace.
He exhaled. “I ruined her big announcement.”
“I don’t think it’s the announcement she cares about. It’s that she really wants us to get along with the Swan women. They’re going to be our stepsisters.”
A bit of barf wormed up his esophagus. He let go of her.
“It’s not your fault Tempest lost her job, but you could have been more sensitive about it.”
He didn’t want to get into a
n argument about that. “You think this wedding is for real?”
“Yes.” She nodded with certainty. “You know how much I talk to Mom. And she’s been so careful since Robert. She’s serious this time.”
He scowled.
She pointed a finger. “See that. Why can’t you just be happy for her? Christopher seems like a truly good man. A little weird, but he worships her.”
They arrived at his car, and Leo got in the driver’s seat. He took three deep breaths while he waited for Zena to go around to the passenger side. He switched on her seat heater and turned down the music volume. He didn’t put the car in gear. “I’ve got to make it up to her, don’t I?”
“Mom or Tempest?”
He’d definitely been thinking of his mom.
“I think that Tempest was a bit of a prig, so you can skip her, but Mom could really use some cheering up.”
“Tempest wasn’t being a prig.”
Zena raised her eyebrows.
He clamped his lips. Why was he defending her? Tempest was being a prig. He put the car in drive and started toward home and a hot shower.
“We don’t have to like the stepsisters. We just have play nice until we get through this wedding. For Mom.”
****
Leo, hair still damp from his shower, let himself into his mom’s house. Her voice echoed through the halls, calling him into the kitchen. She smiled when he came into view. She always had a smile for him. Even when he’d come home late for curfew in high school or when he insulted her dogs. He’d gotten acute lymphocytic leukemia when he was nine years old. Sick for months. Treatment. Chemotherapy. The works. They hadn’t expected him to live. And now, no matter what he did, she was always glad to see him.
Thanksgiving dinner two point oh was spread over the counter in various glass containers. She held out a plate. He took it and picked up the mashed-potato spoon. Wordlessly they filled their plates and took turns with the microwave. She got him a linen napkin, and they sat together at the counter.
“This might be even better today,” Leo said, taking another bite of yams.
“Don’t tell me it’s because the Swans aren’t here.”
That was probably exactly why. He set down his fork. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“You were nice to the grandchildren. I appreciated that.” She sent him a smile that did not reach her eyes.
“You caught us by surprise. We just need a bit more time to get to know each other.”
Mom burst into tears. “This is all my fault.”
He put a hand on her thin shoulder. “That is not what I meant. It’s my fault. Let me make it up to you. And I’ve got an idea. Call it an early Christmas present.”
She dabbed at her cheeks with her napkin, her eyes brightening.
“We’ll go on a family trip.” He cringed at the word family. Tempest was not his sister. “You, me, Zena, and all the Swans. Bonding time.” He tried not to think about the only kind of bonding he was interested in doing with Tempest.
He really needed to get over that.
Maybe he’d call Michelle this weekend, and Dean would have some ladies at his party tonight. Hopefully he’d find someone new and fun.
But the nagging little voice inside his head wouldn’t let him forget that Tempest would never actually be his sister. No matter what.
“It’s a good idea,” Mom said. “But nothing fancy. I don’t want them to feel like we’re lording over them.”
“So Turks and Caicos is out?”
She rolled her eyes. “What about camping?”
“Too far the other direction.”
“Do you think Jo could get away? I’m sure they’re busy with all the children’s activities.”
“Anyone can get away for one night.”
“One night?”
“If we’re camping. One night is plenty. Baby steps.”
Mom pursed her lips before it turned into a smile. She picked up her phone. “Where can we go?”
“California.” He spooned stuffing into his mouth.
“That’s way too far.”
“Everywhere close by is too cold. I’ll take care of transportation. It’ll be quick and painless to pop over to sunny San Diego.”
“So much for not putting on airs.” Mom stood, eagerness in her step as she retrieved a notepad and put on her readers.
“I’ll leave the planning to the expert.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Just let me know what you want from me.”
She tugged her glasses down the bridge of her nose and leveled blue eyes on him. “I want you to be a complete gentleman to those women. Treat them like you do Zena.”
That was impossible. He forced his lip not to curl in disgust. “Gentleman, got it.” He kissed her forehead. “I have to run. Haircut appointment. Thanks for lunch.”
She turned to her plotting as he put his plate in the dishwasher and strolled out.
He’d fixed things with Mom, so why did he feel the chill of doom spreading through his chest?
Twenty minutes later he settled into the barber’s chair. He didn’t look in the mirror, didn’t want to be reminded how his hair was thinner on top than it used to be or how Tempest had said Dean had such shiny hair. “Just a trim.”
The man draped a cloak over Leo’s shoulders as he nodded. “And what about the beard?”
****
Tempest leaned against the kitchen counter, nearly touching the cute man’s leg. Tyson sat on the granite slab, his back against the cabinets, big hands holding a plastic red cup in the space between his thighs. She imagined stepping between his knees and sliding her hands up his blue jeans, feeling the long muscles underneath. His hands cradling her instead of that drink. Maybe later she’d get to do more than imagine it…
So far this party was the best decision she’d made in weeks. Tyson was attractive. And hitting on her hard. He made her feel all those good feelings she’d been missing. And the cherry on top—Leo wasn’t here. She’d been so worried, when she agreed to come with Blair to Dean’s house, that she would see him. Thanksgiving with Leo and his family yesterday was still way too fresh in her mind. She was here tonight to move on. And so far, the next thing looked good.
“So how do you know Dean?” Tempest asked.
Tyson leaned down, bringing his dark eyes and buzzed head closer. His breath smelled like peppermint gum and booze. “This is going to sound so cheesy, but we met at the gym.”
She giggled, taking a sip from her plastic cup. Only a sip. She didn’t love the beer, and she wanted to feel every single butterfly wing brushing her ribs. No reason to dull the heat snaking down her core. “Maybe I should go to the gym more often.”
“You should go Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday between six thirty and seven thirty a.m.”
Organized and dedicated. A routine nerd like her. She was into that. She gave him a coy smile that had his focus dropping to her mouth. He looked long enough for her legs to weaken before his gaze flickered across the room to where Dean was yelling over the music to three women coming in his front door.
Dark eyes found her again. “How do you know Dean?”
She hesitated before saying, “He’s dating my roommate, Blair.”
Blair stepped into the kitchen, her face flushed from drink and dance. She tugged down the short skirt that had worked its way to the top of her thighs. She sent Tempest a quick head nod before opening the freezer and leaning into the chill. Electric cold tickled over Tempest for long seconds before Blair filled her cup with ice. When Blair finally closed the freezer, Tempest pulled her friend against her side.
“This little lady is Blair.”
“Ah,” Tyson said. “The goddess Dean won’t stop talking about.”
Blair batted her eyelashes and beamed at him. “You are invited back anytime.”
His focus shifted from Blair to Tempest. “I’m sure hoping I get to do this again.”
Blair let out a little ooweeeh squeal. “Oh, he is smooooth.”
Yeah, that last line had come out a little too glossy. Tempest chided herself. She should give him a break, at least until she knew him longer than fifteen minutes. He hadn’t asked her where she worked yet, which made him her favorite person at this party.
The front door opened again. A familiar man and his sister entered along with a gust of cold wind that rushed across the room and straight into her blood.
“Oh, shit,” Blair said.
“Why are we shitting?” Tyson looked from Tempest to Blair to the newcomers at the door.
Zena waved to Tempest with an exaggerated smile, but Tempest was frozen in place.
He’d shaved.
That was totally against the rules.
He had a jaw. Straight cheeks. The cup in her hand crinkled, complaining against the sudden squeeze of her fingers.
Leo hadn’t seen her yet, his focus on bro-hugging Dean and smiling at the women on the couch.
“Strong move, Red Romeo,” Blair said.
“I’m missing something,” Tyson said.
Tempest glanced up at him. He suddenly seemed to be missing a lot of things. The biggest being that he wasn’t the man across the room pulling at her with invisible ropes. “It’s nothing. Just got warm in here.” She fanned her face. “I might step out for some fresh air.”
“It’s freezing out there.” Tyson’s face crinkled with the distress that came from knowing his catch might be slipping away.
Tempest turned. “I’ll be right back.”
“Please do.”
Blair grabbed Tempest’s elbow and steered her down the hall and into Dean’s bedroom. She flicked on the light and shut the door.
Tempest gulped down air. “He looks good without a beard.”
“He looks okay.”
Her defenses flared. “Stop acting like he’s ugly. He’s a good-looking guy.”
“Whoa, girl.”
Her faced flamed. “Sorry.”
Blair chuckled. “I see we are not over him.”
Blair’s sweatshirt was draped over Dean’s chair. Tempest moved it and sat down, crossing her legs. She wore dark jeans and a V-neck sweater. She stood again, took off her sweater, and started fanning her overheating torso with it. She didn’t want to sweat in it. It was a wool blend, handwash only. Blair sat in the seat Tempest vacated.