Chapter 3
chapter
three
Kathryn
It’s been two and a half weeks since I found out my mother is getting married. Two and half weeks since I found out my childhood crush, turned teenage nemesis, is going to be my stepbrother. I kinda feel like I woke up in one of those old ninety’s dramas like Melrose Place or something.
Or maybe not; I didn’t ever watch that faithfully. I was more of a sports and science fiction girl. Dr. Who and Firefly anyone?
In any case, my life is weird. It’s now a few days before my mother’s wedding, and I’m back again in Saddle Creek. Kelli and I are on our way to put together all the favors for the ceremony, or rather the reception.
I stare out my sister’s car window. “I don’t understand why we have to drive all the way up to Saddle Ridge to put these favors together.
“It’s where the supplies are. Why are you acting so suspicious?”
“Because you’re acting weird.”
She snorts. “It’s just hormones. I’m six months pregnant with my giant husband’s giant babies, I’m allowed to be weird.”
We’re quiet the rest of the way up the small “mountain” outside of town. It’s mostly hunting cabins up here. At least that’s what it used to be. Though like any good self-respecting citizen from Saddle Creek, I do follow the Shirtless_Lumbersnack, and I believe he lives up here.
Kelli turns down a gravel drive on our left. Mesquites and oaks line the drive and then open up to reveal an adorable little cabin.
“Whose house is this?” I ask.
“Mr. Jewel owns it. Shit, we really do need to start calling him by his name,” Kelli says. “Greg.”
“Couldn’t we just call him ‘Coach’ instead?” I ask. “Feels weird. I mean he was my Health teacher my sophomore year.”
“He’s gonna be family, so we need to get used to it.” She puts her car in park, and her phone buzzes. “Go ahead and go in. Door should be unlocked.” She holds up her phone. “Let me take this call then I’ll come in with you.”
“You are weird. Pregnant or not,” I say.
But I get myself out of the car and walk up to the cute cabin. It’s painted blue with white trim and has a sweet little porch with two white rocking chairs on it. Little flower boxes accent each window, but I think the flowers planted might be artificial. Well, at least they’ll bloom all year long.
I try the front door, and sure enough, it’s unlocked. The cabin opens up to a kitchen and living room combo. Open concept, if you will, only on a miniature scale. There’s a hallway leading off those rooms and I go in search of a bathroom.
Without the windows from the front rooms, the hallway is kinda dark. So I guess it’s no surprise when I run smack-dab into something.
“Oof,” I say because I’m nothing if not eloquent.
Two meaty hands grip my elbows. “Careful.”
I know that voice, and I hate the way that my body responds to it. Bad nipples. I walk backwards back to the main area. But he follows. Once in the light, I see him standing there wearing nothing but a smile and a towel.
“Hey KitKat.” His eyes travel over my face, then down my body. “Long time no see.”
His words are slow and lazy, sensual. He’s got that Matthew McConaughey drawl, and it’s like a buzz against my clit.
My new brother, ladies and gentlemen. I am in so much trouble.
“Hello Donovan. Goodbye Donovan.” I turn and march myself right back to the door. But when I step out on the porch, my sister’s car is nowhere to be seen.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I scream to no one in particular. Then I call my sister. “What is wrong with you?”
“Kathryn, this has gone on long enough. Figure out how to get along with him, he’s going to be our stepbrother. He will be at family functions from now on. Every holiday. Do not ruin this for mom; she deserves to be happy. Also, I left all the supplies to make the wedding favors. Y’all can do that together. Play nice, little sister.”
“I hate you,” I tell her
“I’ll be sure to tell your nieces or nephews that.
I release a noise I’ve never made before. It’s sort of a growl, I guess. I pocket my phone. When I go back inside the cabin, there he is.
Still wearing just a towel, but now leaning against the kitchen counter. He takes a bite of an apple.
“Want a snack?” he asks, holding out his fruit.
There comes a time in every woman’s life when she can fully relate to Eve in the Garden of Eden. Sometimes it’s a Blizzard from Dairy Queen, sometimes a tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s, and sometimes it’s a freakin’ football god wearing a towel and offering up a sinful snack.
He might be holding out an apple, but all I’m thinking about is the amount of naked, muscular skin in front of me. Try as I might, I can’t NOT look at the significant bulge beneath his towel.
Where is a wormhole to another dimension when you need one?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. “My sister abandoned me here.”
“I have my truck.”
I look up at his stupid, handsome face. With his dark hair that’s just long enough to make him look like a bad boy. His short beard covers what I know to be deep dimples in his cheeks. Frankly I’m thankful he’s hidden those. They were dangerous.
“Is this truck invisible or did you drive it behind the house? Hid it in the trees perhaps?” I ask.
He frowns, then walks to the front door and flings it open. “Fuckers,” he mutters. He steps back inside and grabs a phone off the kitchen counter. He puts it on speaker phone.
“Yo,” a man’s voice says in answer.
“Jude, where the fuck is my truck?”
“Oh, the tread on your tires looked low so I brought it into the shop. It’ll be ready with four new tires tomorrow.”
“I don’t need new tires,” Donovan says.
“Sorry, the connection is breaking up. Gotta go.”
“So we’re stuck here. On the side of a mountain. In a cabin. Together!” I say.
“Breathe.” He appears next to me and is rubbing circles on my back. “You’re okay.”
I should tell him to stop touching me. “Please tell me you have actual clothes with you.”
He grins. “I do have clothes here. This is where I’m staying.”
“This cannot be happening,” I say. “Can you go put said clothes on?”
“Why? Do you find this distracting?”
I shake my head and hope I’m not drooling all over myself. “No. I do not care for all the muscles. It’s too much. Overkill, if you will.”
“Ah, you prefer scrawny men?”
“If you must know, yes. Pasty white ones too. Would rather not have to deal with a history of skin cancer.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”