Chapter Two
Eric
Coming here was a good idea. My best one in a long time. There’s a familiar comfort being with Clara that I didn’t realize I’d missed so much. She’s family, but she’s also more. Always has been. A built-in best friend.
And I cut her off.
Cut them off.
Maybe a week ago, I could have convinced myself that I was just busy building the career I’d always wanted to. It wasn’t personal. I was preoccupied. They understood, right?
Now that I’ve spent the night in Clara’s spare room and woke up to the muted sound of Christmas music playing downstairs, I ache for all I’ve missed.
Christmas was our favorite. We lived for that time of year. Our parents went all out with the decorations, traditions, and the festive food. God, I’ve missed the food.
My stomach grumbles in irritation and I can’t help but chuckle.
I lived off coffee, the occasional hurried lunch, and leftovers for years.
Who had time for cooking when there was work to be done?
Since work is no longer a worry of mine, I’m eager to cook something worth eating.
After a quick shower, I make my way downstairs to find Clara wrestling with a Christmas tree.
She’s still in her pajamas—a cute red and green striped onesie that reminds me of our childhood.
“Need help?” I say, arching an eyebrow at her.
She abandons the tree and swipes a hand over her forehead. “It’s being difficult.”
Since I’m taller and bigger, I’m able to get the tree assembled quickly and easily. The pleased smile on her face makes my chest ache. God, I’ve missed her.
“I’m going to go get ready for the event,” she tells me. “We can decorate until it’s time to go.”
I wave her off and then make my way to the kitchen.
Clara’s cabinets are stocked with tons of baking ingredients.
After a quick search on the internet, I find a recipe for cranberry-orange ricotta toast. It’s a ten-minute recipe but sounds pretty good.
I toast our bread and then smear ricotta cheese all over the slices.
Then, I zest an orange to give it color and tang.
I spoon some homemade cranberry jam I found in the fridge over the top of the ricotta.
All that’s left is to drizzle on some honey and sprinkle a bit of rosemary and salt.
A wave of happiness nearly knocks me off my feet. I’d forgotten just how happy creating fun, festive foods could be. It makes me miss my stepmom. Yolanda planted the love of cooking and baking in me at just ten years old. I’ll need to get out to see her, Dad, and my little sisters.
Guilt tries to needle its way in, but I shove it away, choosing to focus on making some coffee.
I cut the toast into cute triangles and arrange them on a snowman shaped cheeseboard.
To fancy up the coffee, I froth the creamer and dust the tops with cinnamon.
By the time Clara returns with a towel tied around her head, breakfast is ready.
“Oooh,” she says, delight in her voice. “How fun!”
I grin at her because she’s right. This is fun.
Apparently, I’ve been missing fun for quite some time now.
We take our seats at the table and try my newest creation.
It’s a perfect combination of savory and sweet.
Devouring our breakfast only takes a couple of minutes.
Clara licks a bit of honey off her plump bottom lip and grins at me.
“That was amazing. I think I’ll get used to having you around again.” Her brown eyes twinkle. “I’ve missed you.”
I nod, swallowing down the ball of emotion in my throat. “I missed you too, sass.”
Her cheeks turn pink and a giggle escapes her. “God, you haven’t called me that since I was like sixteen.”
“Has it really been that long?”
The slight frown that now mars her face makes me feel like a dick. I’m going to make it up to her. I may have no control over my career and the twist my life recently took, but I do have control over this. Maybe this was meant to happen so I could restore my relationship with my family.
I end up cleaning the kitchen while she finishes getting ready. After enjoying another cup of hot coffee while watching snow flutter down outside, I decide to put the lights on her tree. Eventually, Clara comes back down, but I’m not ready.
For a brief second, I forget she’s my stepsister.
Her makeup is artfully done, accentuating her full lips and big brown eyes, and her long brown hair sits in loose waves in front of her dainty shoulders.
It’s the outfit that has me reeling. Tight black leggings hug her toned legs and a pink sweater with a huge snowflake on the front barely covers her breasts, showing off her taut stomach.
“You’re not going out like that, are you?” I blurt out, sounding much like an asshole.
Her pretty plucked eyebrows knit together. “What’s wrong with this? I love this sweater.”
Can it actually be classified as a sweater? It’s missing half the material.
“It’s just, I don’t know,” I stammer, unable to look away from the smooth skin of her stomach. “Won’t you be cold? Isn’t this event outdoors?”
“Oh,” she mutters, drawing my eyes back to her lip that she chews on thoughtfully. “I guess I can change before we go. Come on, let’s see if we can get the living room tree decorated first.”
I’m unsure why I feel so jittery around her. Seeing the barely-there pink sweater and her tiny bellybutton has my brain resetting, unable to compute properly. Clearly I’ve gone too long without getting laid because I’m getting a semi over my stepsister right now.
Wouldn’t be the first time…
I try to ignore that thought as she gestures toward a box with faux popcorn garland.
Of course, the popcorn only solidifies a certain memory in my brain.
The two of us watching a movie late at night.
She’d stretched her legs across my lap to get comfortable.
I made the mistake of touching her skin, shocked at how smooth and hairless her legs were.
When I ran my palm up to her knee and back down again, she giggled because it tickled, and my dick got hard.
The first time.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus on the decorations. Remembering times when I’d fought attraction toward my stepsister won’t help the state of my dick in this moment. Luckily, she’s too preoccupied with what she’s doing to notice the slight bulge in my jeans.
“Dating anyone?” I ask, hoping to make small talk. Maybe if I can imagine her with another man, my brain will climb out of the gutter.
“No,” she grumbles. “The last guy I was interested in turned out to be a douchebag gym rat. I’m pretty sure he just wanted to get laid. And you know how I am.”
Clara is a relationship girl. Unfortunately, every guy she’s dated treats her like a sex object. They see her stunning outward appearance and forget there’s a bleeding heart behind those bouncy tits.
Fuck.
Stop thinking about this shit.
“I’m sure the right guy will come along,” I tell her with a forced smile. “Maybe you’ll meet him at the Christmas Extravaganza.”
She turns to pin me with a sad stare. “I thought I already met him.”
My heart thunders in my chest and my dick thickens more. Is she talking about me? Surely the fuck not. But, with the way she’s looking at me, maybe she is. Is she hinting? Do I want that?
I’m so confused and shamefully aroused I nearly miss her next words.
“But he’s with Savvy now.”
Who the fuck is Savvy?
“What?” I choke out, holding a gold, rather large bulb ornament in front of my unruly cock.
She gestures toward the kitchen. “Travis. I was so obsessed with him. We hooked up.” A frown tugs at her glossy lips. “I wanted more and he wanted to get the hell away from me.” Her eyebrows crash together and she regards me with a confused expression. “What is it about me that scared him away?”
Is she insane right now?
“He sounds like a fucking idiot,” I growl, unable to stop myself. “You’re an eleven and he was probably a six. Sixes have to get with sixes or less. They can’t handle an eleven.”
“I mean, he’s hot, but maybe you’re right.” She grins at me. “There’s a Hallmark, hometown, handsome hero waiting at the event for me. I’m getting love for Christmas this year.”
She loves those stupid movies. I think they’re lame and unrealistic.
What successful woman leaves her big-time job in the city to come back to the reliable guy from her past only to open a bakery with him and pop out a bunch of babies?
I certainly don’t know any women like that in real life.
This fictional guy is just that. Not real.
But, she’s happier not thinking about Travis, so I go with the lie we’re weaving.
“I do need to call him, though,” Clara says, abandoning her decorating to hunt down her phone.
“What? Why? We’re about to go find the love of your life.”
She cracks up laughing. “I’m not going to beg him to fuck me, Eric. He’s an electrician. I’m going to see if he can fix my animatronic snowman.”
“I can fix it,” I blurt out, knowing good and damn well I don’t know how to do that shit. But, the thought of her inviting over some guy she used to fuck while looking too good for public is enough for me to go with my own lies. “You can YouTube anything these days.”
Her eyes brighten. “If you can fix it, you’ll be me hero.”
The same hero she falls in love with?
For fuck’s sake, man. Get it together.
“I thought I already was your hero,” I tease. “I made you breakfast.”
“You’ve always been my favorite guy.” Her smile falls and she picks back up an ornament. “It’s why it hurt so bad when you ghosted me.”
Regret and pain lance at my heart. I’d been so driven to succeed, doing everything in my power to do just that.
As long as I stayed busy and focused on my goals, I could forget about all that I left behind.
And whenever the guilt would threaten to consume me, I’d dig deeper and go harder.
Success was the bandage to that painful wound I’d created.
The bandage has been ripped off and I’m left trying to staunch the bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” Clara says and rushes over to me. “I’m still hurt, but I’m trying. I’ll get past it.”
I hug her to me, burying my nose in her almond-scented hair. Because I’m aching to soothe the throbbing in my chest, I allow my hands to slide down her back to where her sweater ends. She stiffens when my fingertips dance over her bare flesh.
Did I just fuck up?
She hugs me tighter and then relaxes, resting her head against my chest. I take it as permission to stroke her lower back. We stand in silence, hugging instead of speaking. Her body trembles when my fingertips get closer to her sides since she’s ticklish.
“I know I messed up by leaving,” I tell her roughly. “I think I was supposed to come back, though. Being here with you right now feels good.”
Too good in fact.
“It wasn’t that you left,” she says softly. “It was that you disappeared after you left.”
“How do I earn back your trust so we can go back to the way things used to be?”
She pulls away from me and flashes me a devious grin that makes my blood run hot, straight to my confused cock. “You can start by fixing my snowman. Get to work. We leave in half an hour.”
I don’t care if I have to accost this Travis guy and make him work by knifepoint. I’m fixing that damn thing. I’m going to make Clara happy again like it’s my job.
Since I don’t have an actual job, I’ve got plenty of time to do just that.