7. Tase #2
The woman rolls her eyes. “The seat is already occupied with the fries I made, but thanks. You’re a potato hog.”
“Gilli, this is Doctor Tase Walton. Vet extraordinaire. Tase, this is my stepsister Gillian Kerrigan.” Soren spits out the words like he’s sucking snake venom out of a bite.
Stepsister, huh? Son of a bitch.
Soren hasn’t spoken about his stepsisters, or anyone in his family, in the years I’ve known him. He’s only made a few asides that weren’t worth remembering back in college, but now she’s at the cabin?
Why?
Which one of the sisters is this? My memory is fuzzy but she looks like the right age to be the youngest. Then again, I’ve never been the best judge of these things.
I can’t look away.
She’s wearing a billowing hippie skirt that does nothing to hide the swell of her ass. Her shirt is cropped high and shows off a tantalizing swatch of midriff, a strange choice considering the chill in the air. I suppose the oversize cardigan hanging down to her hips helps a little.
“Nice to meet you, Doc.” Gillian wraps her arms around herself and shifts from foot to foot.
“You want a beer, Gilli?” Aiden offers.
“Ah, sure, I’ll take a beer.”
So what’s going on? They don’t want her here; it’s implied in the stiff set of Soren’s shoulders. Aiden is a little more amenable.
Or maybe he just wants to fuck her.
An image of Gillian taking Aiden up on his offer and spreading herself over his lap fills my head. I let out a breath and drop back down in the chair.
All at once the night goes silent like someone has flipped a switch. Even the crickets aren’t up to their usual chirping chorus and those suckers are relentless.
Aiden hands over a bottle and Gillian hesitantly grabs it and twists off the top. I swallow hard, watching her take her first sip.
Her haunted look from earlier today stuck with me for the rest of the afternoon, after I’d caught her peering through the window. It was the expression of a person trying desperately to pull the pieces of herself back together. A person who is hiding something.
I can tell. I know all about secrets.
From the controlled and even way she breathes, she’s probably trying not to let Soren’s attitude bother her. She should be used to it, shouldn’t she?
“Do you need any help with the grill?” she asks suddenly.
“Absolutely fucking not.”
She glances up sharply at Soren’s tone and a few strands of hair fall around her face.
Damn it. She’s young, but she’s pretty, in an interesting way. Her eyes are almond-shaped and large without any makeup to help accentuate the shape .
Her tawny skin, her dark hair—she couldn’t be further from Soren’s Nordic aesthetic.
Not blood related and nowhere near the family they might have been as a result of the marriage. Is it a shame?
I can’t tell.
I drag my fingers across my scalp. “You did the grocery shopping and these ingrates still decided to catch trout for dinner?” I ask.
Gillian glances over at me before shifting to stand at the side of my chair. Her eyes immediately lock with mine and something in my chest tightens.
“How’d you know I went grocery shopping?”
“She bought goodies for later. Tonight was trout night no matter what she got.” Aiden chomps on another fry. “Besides, these are good. Even if they are healthy.”
“Nothing fried is healthy,” Soren argues on principle.
Something in Gillian’s gaze falters. “I try my best. I’m happy to take over the cooking if it means pulling my weight.”
“Do you need to pull your weight?” I want to know. “Doesn’t this place belong to the family?”
“ My family,” Soren grinds out immediately.
Super fucking awkward.
Gillian keeps her attention pinned on me and I try to offer her a grin. Seems like the poor girl needs one.
Long dark lashes frame her eyes, her sharp chin leading down to a delicate and slender neck. She’s got a body built for wet dreams. So why is she hiding most of it in a baggy cardigan and long skirt?
“If you’re going to stay with us, then we need to be super clear about the rules,” Soren puts in suddenly. His eyebrows are pinched together when he turns around. “We stay out of each other’s way. You want to cook, that’s fine, but don’t expect us to eat what you make. You’re on your own.”
“Hey now,” Aiden interjects. “I for one am fucking grateful someone wants to take the time to cook for us. ”
Rather than kowtowing to Soren’s highhandedness, Gillian holds her own. There is no uncertainty in her posture.
“I understand. You would much rather dive into the lake and catch fish with your teeth than sit down for a soufflé that I made. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Soren growls under his breath. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aiden doing his best to hide his laughter. “We’re not picky here.”
“No, it’s clear you’re not.”
Soren jerks like he’s been poked with something sharp. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I laugh under my breath at the budding argument. At least a little fire spitting will do wonders against the tension. Or maybe the alcohol is taking root. I realize I’m clenching an empty bottle only when I lift it to my lips and nothing comes out.
“Maybe I’m teasing you the way you tease me. Try not to get your panties in a bunch,” Gillian chides. “You're not used to having a woman around.”
Aiden looks between the two of them, his eyes rounded.
“Pissing me off won’t help your case,” Soren warns. “I’m this close to tossing your ass back in your car even if I have to push the thing to the main road myself.”
“Here I thought pissing you off was going to be the highlight of my night. Especially since I don’t have to try too hard to make it happen.”
She’s not backing down.
A flame flares when some of the juices from the trout drop onto hot coals. I see now how badly Soren wants her gone. It’s evident in the glint in his eyes and the rigidity of his arms.
Soren isn’t the type to make it easy for people to enter his life. He’s earned the right to be picky about it. He’s never had the affability of his cousin. Right now, he’s staring at Gillian like he wants to choke the life out of her and only needs the slightest provocation to make it happen.
“You’d better watch that grill or you’re going to burn our dinner.” She offers the comment offhandedly. “Do you need me to take over?”
In their battle, I’ve gotta wonder who will win. I’ve known Soren for a long time and I’ve never seen him back down from a challenge once he realizes he’s got skin in the game.
Whatever is bubbling between them has been a long time coming, but Gillian is squared off and her attention zoned right between his shoulder blades.
She’s a survivor. Whatever secrets she keeps have only made her more determined to keep surviving.
The night is turning out to be much more interesting than I bargained for when I came over.
The air thickens until Aiden’s easy laughter slices through. “If you aren’t careful, Sor, she’ll cut you down. Little girl has a way with her words.”
I shoot a sideways look at Aiden, who grins wider and holds out his knuckles for a slight bump from mine.
“You’re damn right.” She bobs her head in agreement.
Gillian isn’t going anywhere. Whatever brought her to the cabin, she’s here to stay.
So what’s going on? And how long will it take us to pry her apart, layer by layer, until we’ve discovered what makes her tick? It’s inevitable at this point.
It doesn’t matter how much Soren hates her. She intrigues us, all of us.
There’s no doubt—I see it in Soren’s posture and Aiden’s expression. Gillian isn’t getting out of this place without being broken down to her basest level, just so we can understand her presence.
Why it matters, I’ve got no fucking clue.