Chapter 7
chapter seven
Dayton
I’ve never viewed Summer as a sister. When she and her mom moved in with us, I was sixteen, and I made it clear to her from the beginning where she stood with me, which was as far away as possible.
My dad might have welcomed them with open arms, but I thought our family was doing fine with just us two.
After she spent the first few months sulking around our house, she warmed up and started trying to become friends with me.
From day one, my attraction to her was undeniable.
So, I had to hate her. Hating her was much safer than the alternative.
I stare down at her under the Happy Birthday, Amelia! sign. It would be fucking fantastic if I could stop the growing erection in my swim trunks. This has to be one of the quickest ways to ruin a child’s birthday party.
Summer’s pretty little pink lips wrapping around her finger and sucking the white icing off of it is going to be playing in my head on repeat for the next year. The way my body responds to her is diabolical.
This is why I refuse to indulge in sugar. And her.
“I understand why you can’t give it up. That would require discipline.” I drop my hands in front of my crotch.
I’m not walking away yet because, apparently, I’m a glutton for this brand of torture. I have been since I was sixteen.
She laughs, my favorite sound in the entire world traveling through the pavilion. I want to bottle it up and save it for the rainy, cold days when I’m stuck in New York and I can’t even hear her voice because she refuses to answer my calls.
Why would she? You’re a dick to her.
“Dayton, you hate all fun, joy, and good things. I’m surprised you even came here today, knowing there would be smiling and laughter and these oh-so-dangerous cupcakes.”
I watch with rapt fascination as she dips her finger in the icing again. She lifts it up to her lips, and I nearly groan when her pink tongue darts out to clean it off.
Get the hell out of here. You could catch a public indecency charge with this thing.
My arms are tense as I try to cover the protruding excitement between my legs, knowing I have to get away from her or go sit in my car until it dissipates.
“Maybe I just came to suck all the joy out of the party. Ruining things is what I do best.” It’s easier to just play into her perception of me rather than try to alter it. It’s definitely safer this way.
“How self-aware of you.” She looks up at me, a half smile on her full lips. There’s a stray dab of white icing on her bottom lip.
I clench my fist, tightening my hold on the wrist of my hand covering up the problem in my pants.
It’s a damn good thing my hands are occupied because I almost reach out to wipe it off and get a taste.
Her jade-green eyes are staring up at me.
She raises a brow curiously, no doubt wondering why I’m staring at her lips and standing with my arms in front of my body like this.
It’s rare that I get to stand this close to her and study her appearance.
She usually puts distance between us, probably to resist her desire to launch things at my head.
She never grew out of the caramel-colored freckles on her slightly upturned nose.
Thick lashes frame the eyes that remind me of the clearest day at the beach.
Her honey-brown hair falls in beachy waves down to her waist. As a teenager, I once grabbed it and wrapped it around my fist because I hadn’t learned how to mask and control my overwhelming attraction to her. She screamed and kicked me in the shin.
“Dayton! Will you grab the paddleboard from the top of my car?” Cheri calls from down by the beach.
I look up to see that the entire party has moved that direction, but I was too wrapped up in talking to Summer to notice. Most of the kids are playing in the water.
“Yeah,” I call out, thankful for the jerk back to reality.
Summer has licked off all the icing from the cupcake. I finally feel like I can exhale. She tosses the rest of it in the trash before turning to walk toward the parking lot. I fall into step behind her, keeping a safe distance.
“I’m coming by the house after this,” I tell her.
She sighs. “I figured.”
I’m glad she left the bungalow today. Aside from teaching yoga on the beach, I have no idea what she does with her time.
I’m itching to figure out if she broke up with the loser boyfriend from California because as far as I know, he hasn’t even been out to visit her for a weekend.
The condition I implemented for her living there was that he wasn’t allowed to move in, but I never said he couldn’t visit.
The thought crossed my mind to insist he never be allowed to set foot on the property, but I couldn’t think of a valid reason to establish it.
I’m not stalking her, but I do have access to the security camera on the front and back porches, which just so happens to show the front door to the studio she lives in.
She has access to the cameras, too, but I’m pretty sure she forgot about them being installed for security purposes at the site back before anyone was living there.
She’s never had anyone over. She’s never out past dark.
It appears she only leaves to go to work, the grocery store, and to get an occasional iced matcha.
Maybe this is how she’s always operated, even while living in California.
My ability to check in on her from my office, apartment, and the treadmill has become a slightly unhealthy habit.
One morning, I got the terrifying fear that there might be a way for her to see how often I looked at the camera feed, but then she started stretching on her yoga mat in a bikini on the back porch, and I lost all train of thought.
It’d better have been before any contractors were there.
I squash the overprotective caveman thought before it continues to flourish in my chest and cause me to do something stupid, like tell her to put some fucking clothes on next time she does an outdoor workout. The last thing I need is for her to figure out how many hours a day I watch that feed.
She’s made it to her car, which is parked a few spaces down from Cheri’s Jeep with the paddleboard strapped to the top.
I busy myself with undoing the straps and feign indifference to her leaving.
It’s been this way since we met. I pretend to hate her, but despising me is the easiest thing in the world for her.
I hear the engine of her Land Rover come to life. She drives off without a goodbye, but I’m already looking forward to seeing her again later.
thirteen years earlier
Meeting my dad’s girlfriend and her daughter feels like burying my mother all over again. She’s been in the ground for years. Him replacing her is like spitting on her grave.
“Why do they have to live here? The girl and I have to share a bathroom? That’s archaic.”
My father is straightening up the living room. When he took down the family photo that was on the mantel a week ago, I knew something was up.
“Son, your mother would be happy that we’re moving on.
She told me as much. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but she asked me to find someone.
At the time, I couldn’t fathom it. She said it wasn’t just for me, and she was right.
We’ve been a couple of bachelors for years now.
You need to learn how to live with women, how to be sensitive to them. You lost your mother too young.”
A knock at the door interrupts us. I cross my arms over my chest. I’m an inch taller than my dad already. He pats me on the shoulder and moves to the front door.
“I’m trusting you to act like the perfect gentlemen I raised you to be.”
He opens the door, revealing a stunning woman with honey-blond hair, wearing a pink floral dress that reaches her ankles.
She flashes a knockout smile up at him, and for a brief moment, I get it.
He pulls her inside and hugs her tightly, bending down to wrap his arms fully around her.
He picks her up, spinning her inside the house.
Laughter escapes her, and she’s breathless when he finally sets her down inside. She turns to me, bright-eyed.
“You must be Dayton. I’m Clara.” She smiles, stretching her hand out to me.
I shake it. “Nice to meet you,” is all I say.
“You’re just a year older than Summer. Honey, come meet your new stepbrother.” Clara takes her place beside me and gestures for her daughter to come over.
I look up, my eyes landing on a mini version of Clara.
She’s only fifteen, but she’s already just as stunning as her mother.
Her honey-blond hair is in two braids over shoulders.
She’s dressed in travel clothes—black leggings and a sky-blue hoodie.
Without a stitch of makeup on, her skin is flawless. Freckles dot her nose.
She nods at me, not smiling. “Hey.”
I nod back. An awkward silence follows the exchange. Summer peers around the house, clearly as uninterested in being here as I am at having her here. Clara and my dad whisper to each other for a few seconds before my dad speaks up.
“I was thinking we could all get dinner tonight at Iggy’s Grill,” Dad says.
“I have plans.” I turn to leave.
“Yes, you do. Plans for a family dinner. At Iggy’s,” he returns.
He’s got that glint in his eyes, the one that tells me I’ll regret it if I continue arguing with him.
I grit my teeth as he turns, his arm around Clara’s shoulders, and suddenly, I can’t wait for the next two years to be over.
Over the next week, Summer starts attending my high school. We don’t have any classes together, but to no surprise, she’s immediately becoming the shiny new student all the kids want a piece of. The guys want to know if she’s single, and the girls either want to befriend her or see her downfall.
I have baseball practice every afternoon after school. I’m warming up my arm with one of the guys when he whistles low under his breath.
“New girl could model the cheer uniforms.”
I glance over and look at where he nods.
Summer is walking up the bleachers before finding a seat alone and pulling out a textbook.
Her ass nearly hangs out of the pleated navy skirt.
She’s full-figured, and it pisses me off that my teammates are noticing.
I clench my jaw, launching the ball back toward Will at a much faster speed.
Will is one of my best friends and has been since middle school.
“Ouch. Chill out. It’s warm-up. Hey, did you ever get that new stepmom and stepsister?”
I lick the front of my teeth, nodding slightly.
“How’s that going? Sucks, man. Where does she go to school?” He grins, knowing there’s only one high school.
I don’t reply as he throws the ball back.
“Keeping her for yourself? Is she homeschooled?” He flashes a shit-eating grin.
I throw the ball back—hard.
“Ha! I got it. So, she’s hot then? Do you call her sis?”
If he wasn’t wearing his catcher’s mitt, I’d be able to throw it hard enough to hurt his hand.
“Dayton.” I hear a sweet voice from behind me. “Your dad wants you to give me a ride home.”
Fuck.
Will’s jaw drops before he starts laughing. I ignore her, throwing the ball back to him. He smiles, catching it in his mitt before walking toward her.
“Hey. I’m Will. I can give you a ride. I’m a better driver than Dayton.”
Heat prickles the back of my neck as I turn to watch him approach Summer, who’s leaning over the railing of the bleachers. She’s chewing her bottom lip, eyes flicking from his face to mine, as her long hair blows in the island breeze as she plays with the golden ends.
“Okay,” she finally says.
I glare at the back of Will’s head as he stretches a hand up to shake hers. “Great to meet you. What’s your name? Or should I just call you baby?”
She tilts her head, cheeks flushing as she shakes his hand. “Baby isn’t very original.”
“Sunshine? Gorgeous? Sweetheart?”
She smiles. “You can keep working on it.” She turns around, her too-short miniskirt lifting in the breeze.
Will watches her walk back up the bleachers before turning back to me. “Damn, dude, I think I have a thing for your stepsister.”
I’ve never realized before now just how fucking annoying Will is.