Bend (A Stepbrother Romance) (20 page)

Come clean? Don’t tell her anything? She’s going to find out eventually, I can’t hide this from Keir forever…
I was in over my head.

“I actually didn’t call you to talk about work,” I said carefully.

“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised and her mug paused halfway to her mouth.

“I—you—” I took a deep breath. “I’ve been doing a sort of celebrity genealogy project and, well, you have a brother.”

She set her mug back down carefully. “Oh?” she repeated. Her voice was calm, quiet in that same dangerous way as Keir. Then recognition washed over her face. “You’re the stepsister, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I said, turning red.

“Is that why you’re digging into the family history?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. I mean, he’s upset about his mother. Your mother. She left him without a word.”

“I’m more interested in why you seem to think any of this is your business.”

I was beginning to realize that she didn’t seem very surprised. “You know,” I said. “You already knew about him.”

It was her turn to blush and look away.

“Does he even suspect?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice down.

“No,” she said, glaring up at me. “And don’t say anything, either.”

“Why?”

“His father doesn’t want it.”

Now my head was spinning. This was a little more family drama than I’d bargained for. But I pressed on, for Keir’s sake. “Why on earth would he do that?” I asked. “I’ve met Glenn. He seems like a good man.”

“I know you’ve met him,” she chuckled. “He’s your stepfather.” I mumbled a curse under my breath and she chuckled again, though the sound was bitter. “That rich old bastard wanted nothing to do with our white trash family. It’s why he kept Keir from us.” She looked down at her hands. “Not that it’s any of your business, but you’ve probably figure it out by now. Our mother was an addict.”

“Was?” I asked, my stomach flipping.

“Was, is. I don’t know if she’s alive or in rehab or in Mexico or Canada.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to meet him,” she said suddenly, after a long stretch of silence. “If that’s what this is about.”

“I’m sure he’d like to meet you,” I said. “All he knows about you is that you hate his music.”

“I hate his music, I hate his father, I hate
him
.” She curled her lip.

“But you don’t know him!” Now people did look, but I ignored them. “What did he ever do to you, Lorna? He doesn’t even know about you!”

“Exactly. He doesn’t know, and he never looked. He never tried to know. He had his rich father and his easy life, and me? I dealt with Mom coming in and out of my life, leaving me with different relatives every time…” She trailed off. “I tried to contact Glenn, just once. Keir was still so young.”

“What did he say?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

“He said to stay away. He didn’t want Elizabeth to even remember Keir if he could avoid it, and he didn’t want the rest of the family dragging his son down. Only Mom’s brother and I even knew he existed, and my uncle couldn’t have cared less.” Her face softened as she went on. “He paid for my college. He said maybe things could be different, once we were both grown. But I never reached out again.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, upset that I’d made her drag all the memories back to life. “I had no idea—”Lorna ran her hands through her hair. “Why am I even telling you all of this?”

“Maybe because I’m family, in a perverted sort of way?” I joked. “Or maybe because you do want to meet him.”

She snorted. “That’ll go well. ‘Oh hey, your worst critic is your half-sister, let’s be best friends now!’”

“He won’t care about that,” I said. “I know I haven’t known him for very long, but that much I can tell you. He doesn’t take any of that personally.”

“When are you seeing him again?” she asked.

“This weekend.”

“Don’t tell him.” Lorna looked away, but I swore I could see her eyes glistening. “You can’t just meddle like this. Things were fine the way they were.”

“They’re not,” I said, “He’ll want to know about his mother—no matter how bad it is. And he’ll want to know you.”

Her head dropped. “Let me think about it. I wasn’t prepared for this. You tricked me into it, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Are you two still an item?” she asked, amusement curling her lips.

“Yeah,” I said. “We are.” My whole damn heart warmed at the thought.
We’re an item. We’re together
. “We’re trying to stay out of the papers from now on.”

She snorted. “Good luck with that. No one will hear it from me, but these things have a way of coming out.”

“Don’t I know it,” I mumbled. Hell, I’d been a bean-spiller myself. “So I’ll call you when I get back from New York? Next week? Not to make it sound like a deadline, or anything,” I added, raising my hands. “But if he somehow finds out that I know and didn’t say anything…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lorna said, gathering up her purse. “It’s a pretty great mess you’ve gotten us all into. Thanks for the coffee. I’ll call you.”

Then she was out the door, leaving me completely off-balance. Were we on good terms or bad? Was she angry at me?

It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting her and Keir together. He was the sort of man who felt that family was important—he’d want to know about her and he’d want to get to know her.

But I’d just have to push it out of my mind for the weekend.
Easier said than done
. But if Keir was good at anything, it was distracting me so badly that he was the only thing I could think about. Or rather, very specific parts of him.

As long as we could keep it secret.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Keir

I picked Cadence up at the airport. I was actually able to wait inside for her—New York was much more chill about celebrities than LA, or really most other major cities I’d traveled to on my tours. Still, just to be safe, I donned a baseball cap and sunglasses.

She almost didn’t spot me. Once she did, a wide smile lit up her whole face and the whole damn airport terminal.

“Hey, baby,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her tight. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“The whole band is glad you’re here,” Ian joked behind me. The drummer had insisted on coming along to make sure the two of us didn’t hop on a plane to some tropical island and disappear before the tour was over. That and he was sick of listening to Javier and Adam complain.
Thank God we made them sign contracts
. Replacing them would be nearly impossible at this stage, but once we played our last show of the year, well, we could all do whatever the hell we wanted.

Cadence giggled. “Good to see you too, Ian.”

“Maybe you can cheer your man up a little.” He led the way back to the car. Cadence held my hand the whole way—an odd feeling. Strangely familiar, and comfortable, and I actually kind of liked it.

Still… “This isn’t exactly being secretive,” I said to her.

“Oh. Right.” She let my hand go and sped up to walk next to Ian instead. “What’s this party about tonight, anyway?” she asked him. “Keir doesn’t remember.”

“He’s trying to sink the band,” he said over his shoulder, and I replied with a middle finger. “Tracy Stroll is dropping a new album,” he explained, “This is just one of many industry parties that’ll happen. They’re really pushing her toward superstardom.”

“I thought she was already there,” Cadence said, smiling at Ian, though she shot me a concerned look.
Fucking Ian
.

I wasn’t trying to sink the band. I was just done with this tour. Traveling so much made me feel restless, and homeless. I had no roots, and I was hating it more and more as I grew older.

Or maybe it was Cadence’s fault. Maybe I just wanted to be near her.
I want to finish her song
.

I watched her ass as she walked ahead of me, laughing with Ian and eying me over her shoulder.
How much longer is this tour?
Hell, never mind the tour—I couldn’t wait to get her alone that very night.

Judging by the mischievous twinkle in her eye, she couldn’t wait, either. All we had to do is avoid the press and all would be well.

So far, so good.

═ ♪ ♫ ♪ ═

The party was in full swing. I could feel the pumping bass through my bones and the bubbles of champagne through my veins. Beautiful people filled the dance floor, and the tables around it, and the balconies above it. Famous friends, trend-setters, decision-makers—and I was hiding out in a dark corner, crushing Cadence against the wall and kissing her neck, tasting her skin, lust-drunk on her.

“Baby,” I said, nipping her with my teeth, “can’t wait to get you out of here.” My cock pulsed against her hip; her camera dug into mine.

“You promised I could meet people,” she said, thumping my shoulder weakly with her fist. Her voice was breathy, though, and she made no move to escape my clutches.

“I’ve got more important promises to keep.” I traced along her jaw line with the tip of my tongue. “Like how many times I promised myself that I’d make you come tonight.”

“How many?” she breathed.

“Mmm. Not telling. It’ll be a surprise.” I pressed one of my legs between hers, inviting her to grind on my thigh. Her dress rode up and wrinkled, but neither of us cared. It was a shame to mess up her look, though—I’d recruited my stylist to take care of her again, and she looked damn fucking fine in her little black and silver cocktail dress.

“You promised photographers,” Cadence protested, though she pressed herself against my leg, “My boss says I should network whenever and wherever I can, and who knows when I’ll have another opportunity like this.”

“Stick with me and they’ll come all the time,” I said, then kissed her mouth firmly. “And you’ll come all the time.” My tongue slipped inside her mouth and she melted against me.

My cock ached to be inside of her, but I forced myself to finally come up for air. “Okay,” I said, taking a step back before I decided to turn her around and take her right there against the wall. “You’re right. We should mingle.”

She straightened her dress and patted down her hair. “Do I look okay?”

“You look amazing. Sexy as hell.” She looked exactly like she’d been making out in a dark corner, but I left that detail out. “Let’s see who we can find.”

I led her through the crowd and upstairs, where the music was a little less loud.

She squeezed my hand nervously as we approached a small group of people chatting at the balcony’s railing. “I know him,” she said to me, tugging on my arm. “That’s Tim Rocha. He’s a super-awesome fashion photographer.”

“I know,” I laughed. “That’s why I brought you over.”

“I can’t talk to him!” Cadence said, her eyes wide, “I’ll sound like a crazy fangirl!”

“So? You were my crazy fangirl, and look how well that turned out.”

She laughed, though she still glanced nervously at the group. “You’re right.”

“Always.”She started to lift her camera, but I pressed her hands back down. “Just be cool.” I tugged her behind me as I pressed my way forward and interrupted their conversation. “Hey, guys. Hey, Tim, Yolanda, Coco.” The two supermodels who flanked him gave me haughty looks down their noses. Friends of Kelly’s, no doubt. I’d probably gotten myself added to some international model’s blacklist.

Tim at least was glad to see me and shook my hand. “Good to see you, Keir.” He’d actually done a photo shoot for my own album release a year and a half ago. We hadn’t become best friends or anything but we’d gotten along and our people had kept in touch since then. “Who’s your lovely friend?” he asked, nodding toward Cadence.

Finding her voice, she reached out and shook his hand. “Cadence Ryan,” she said. “Huge, huge fan of your work. All of it.”

“She’s into photography herself,” I said.

Unfortunately, Tim was more interested in who she was than what she did. “You’re the stepsister?” he asked.

Her smile tightened. “I am,” she said.

He pointed between us. “And you two are here together?” The models at either of his elbows hid laughter behind their hands—and poorly.

“Don’t be a dick,” I said. “She just wanted to meet you.”

“Hey, sorry,” he said, holding up his hands, “I’m just curious.”

“You should mind your fucking business.” I grabbed Cadence’s hand.

Tim’s face finally fell and he smiled apologetically at Cadence. “Seems I hit a sore spot,” he said, reaching inside his jacket. He handed her a business card. “Send me your work sometime. I may be a dick, but I do like to keep an eye on what the next generation of photographers is up to.”

“Thank you!” she said, clutching the card to her chest. “I definitely will! Thank you so much!”

She might have kept on gushing if I didn’t drag her away. She obviously didn’t know how these things worked, poor girl. The business card was a dismissal disguised as an invitation.
Not working with him again, that’s for fucking sure
.