Stepbrother Broken (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 2) (12 page)

The
corners of her mouth turn down at my curt response. I can see her fighting the
urge to roll her gold-flecked blue eyes
—
the same eyes that our mother
passed down to all three of her daughters. With Herculean restraint, she stops
herself from bickering with me right from the get-go. We
’
ve always had a way of getting on each other
’
s last nerve from the start.

“
Did you know this place was going
to be a mansion?
”
she asks finally, crossing
her arms,
“
There
’
s no way Mom can be affording this easily.
”

Oh,
dear. It looks like Maddie wasn
’
t briefed about the details of this
trip either. She has no idea about John, or his sons, or the fact that our
mother has been living here for the past couple of months or so. On the bright
side, I get to watch her head explode as she learns the true nature of this
little getaway. Maddie is an obsessive over-thinker, phased by the smallest
wrinkle in her plans. I can
’
t help but be a tiny bit amused as
she unknowingly steps up to a wrinkle the size of a mountain.

Sure
enough, my older sister
’
s mind promptly melts as our mother
sweeps in and divulges the salacious details of her stay in Montana. Anna and I
trail along as Maddie is introduced to John
—
the
latest of Mom
’
s unlikely paramours. To her
credit, Maddie keeps it together just long enough for us girls to escape into
the backyard. When the levees finally break, I
’
m
there to lend her a shoulder to cry on. I forget how hard Dad
’
s death hit her sometimes. He really was her hero, her
role model. Seeing Mom with another man is harder on her than it is on me.

Luckily,
something comes along to distract all of us Porter girls from our discomfort.
Finally, we get to meet one of John
’
s sons in the flesh. He roars up
out of the woods on an ATV, nearly mowing us over in the process. Anna wasn
’
t kidding about these boys being hot as hell. This
one, who tells us his name is Cash, has the bad boy biker thing down pat. His
body is covered in heavy black ink, and his dark curly hair hangs just above
his collar. Definitely easy on the eyes, but not really my type. The second he
opens his mouth, I can tell there
’
s more brawn than brains to him.

What
can I say? I like my men sharp.

Things
cool down a bit as the four of us Porter women set to making dinner. John
’
s expecting his two younger sons home tonight, so it
’
ll be the first time that all eight of us will be in
the same place at once. My mom is fluttering around the kitchen like a deranged
50
’
s housewife, bent on everything
being perfect for our first big group dinner. Maddie
’
s lost in her own thoughts as she hacks away at a pile
of vegetables, and Anna is quiet as a mouse as she makes sure Mom doesn
’
t accidentally lose a finger or something in her
frenzy.

Me?
I make myself comfortable with a glass of Merlot at the rough-hewn kitchen
table. Someone
’
s got to taste-test the wine
pairings for tonight, right?

“
Maddie,
”
our mom chirps as she puts the finishing touches on
her feast,
“
Why don
’
t you go round up the boys? Everything
’
ll be ready in a sec.
”

My
older sister promptly drops her knife, the color draining from her face.

“
Oh. I don
’
t. I mean
—”
she sputters, even more flustered than usual,
“
I don
’
t really know where they are
…”

“
I think they
’
re down by the lake,
”
Anna
replies, plucking a tray of dinner rolls out of the oven.

I
didn
’
t even realize the younger boys had
returned from their camping expedition. We haven
’
t
gotten so much as a grunt out of any of them, much less a
“
hello
”
. But after catching a glimpse of
the sexy, brooding Cash this afternoon, I
’
m curious to see what the others
look like. Besides, Maddie seems downright terrified to wrangle them on her
own.

“
What, do you need a chaperone to
face the big bad boys?
”
I tease her, rising to my
feet,
“
Come on. I
’
ll go with you.
”

Resigned,
Maddie trails me out the back door onto the patio. The night is warm and
breezy, and dusk gathers quickly as the sun plummets toward the horizon.

“
I still haven't met the younger
guys,
”
I say over my shoulder to Maddie,
“
They
’
ve been making themselves pretty damn scarce. Not that
I have high hopes, having met Cash.
”

“
Yeah,
”
she
chuckles nervously,
“
He seems like kind of a dick,
right?
”

“
Total dick,
”
I agree.
“
Pretty hot though.
”

“
S-sorry?
”
Maddie stammers, running a hand through her long dark
blonde bob. God, she can be such a puritan sometimes.

“
What? He is,
”
I shrug,
“
Did you see those tattoos? And that
hair? God lord. It
’
s like if Jon Snow and Thor had a
super sexy, tatted-up love child. Not sure how that would work biologically,
but
—”

“
I mean, yeah, he
’
s pretty attractive
…”
Maddie allows slowly,
“
But
I mean, he
’
s kind of off limits, right? All
the boys are. What with Mom and John
’
s
history and everything?
”

I
nearly stop in my tracks at Maddie
’
s uncharacteristic leap of logic.

“
Whoa, whoa. I wasn
’
t planning on jumping him or
anything, Maddie,
”
I laugh,
“
Unless you think he
’
d be into it, that is.
”

I
watch as Maddie
’
s face goes perfectly still, her
mouth hardening into a tight straight line. I hate to say it, but she
’
s
always
been something of a prude, my big
sister. I mean for god
’
s sake, she
’
s only had about three boyfriends in her entire life.
And all of them were long, drawn out, monogamous relationships. I shudder at
the very thought.

“
Christ, Maddie. I
’
m kidding,
”
I say, snapping my sister out of her dead-eyed trance.

“
Oh. Right,
”
she mutters,
“
I knew that.
”

“
We need to get you drunk ASAP
tonight,
”
I laughs,
“
The rat race is turning you into something of a
downer, my dear.
”

It
’
s so weird that her mind would leap immediately to
whether or not it
’
s OK for us to hook up with John
’
s sons. Maybe all that boring relationship sex is
screwing with her straight-and-narrow sensibilities? I hadn
’
t even considered that question myself. But, then
again, I have someone waiting for me back at Sheridan. Someone who would surely
put these rowdy country boys to shame.

I
spot one such country boy standing at the end of the dock, looking out across
the water. He
’
s big and broad-shouldered like his
dad, and tatted-up like Cash, but with much lighter ash-brown hair.

“
Hey there,
”
I call to him as Maddie and I approach.

He
ignores me completely, keeping his gaze on the water.

“
Maybe he didn
’
t hear you?
”
Maddie suggests in a whisper.

Maybe
he
’
s just being a dick,
I think to myself, marching right
up to him.

“
Hey,
”
I
repeat, tapping on his muscled shoulder,
“
What
’
s up?
”

I
take a step back, startled, as he raises his hand to me. For a terrifying
second, I
’
m reminded of the other night at
the bar
—
the moment when that skinhead
maniac cocked back his arm to pummel Danny into the ground. But no
…
this guy is simply trying to shut me up. Looks like he
’
s just as charming as his big brother after all. What
’
s so damn fascinating about the lake, anyway?

Following
the younger son
’
s gaze out across the water, I spot
the source of his intense focus. Two built, barreling bodies are racing toward
us, cutting the water with strong, sure strokes. I
’
m guessing that it
’
s
the two other brothers, having a little pre-dinner race. I
’
ll never understand men and their need to make
everything
into a contest.

Taking
a big step back to avoid getting drenched, I watch as the two men soar toward
the dock, sending up a huge jet of water in their wake. Crossing my arms, I
brace myself to meet the third of John
’
s sons. Maybe he
’
ll be more of a conversationalist than this cavemen
brothers? But something tells me not to get my hopes up.

I
look on as the swimmers grab hold of the wooden dock and pull themselves
effortlessly up out of the water. Just as they climb side-by-side onto the
planks and straighten up, the fiery orange sun blazes out from behind a cloud
just above the horizon. I squint into the bright sunlight, blinded by the
sudden burst. When my eyes start to adjust, I find myself starting at a pair of
exceptionally cut torsos, dripping with lake water and absolutely perfect in
shape and tone. I recognize Cash
’
s tattoos at once, averting my
attention to the other brother, whose tapered, muscular waist forms a perfect
v. His fitted swim trunks hang dangerously low, and a dark trail of hair leads
down from his navel, drawing my gaze to the impressive bulge announcing itself
beneath his bathing suit. It
’
s that tantalizing trail that snags
my attention for its striking familiarity. And when I widen my focus and take
this stranger in as a whole, that uncanniness only becomes more pronounced.
Somewhere deep within the recesses of my mind, an alarm starts to wail. But
why? As the blood red sun finally dips down below the horizon, my unblinded
eyes flick up to the man
’
s face.

For
a split second, I convince myself that I must be hallucinating. I
’
ve had too much to drink. I
’
m crazed with cabin fever after one day in the woods.
Surely, I can
’
t
actually
be seeing what my
mind would have me believe. But as the stranger
’
s
eyes lock squarely with mine, blazing like the finest of emeralds, there can be
no mistaking him.

Luke
Hawthorne stands at the end of the dock, staring at me with utter disbelief. My
entire world tilts on its axis as I scramble to understand this turn of events.
Luke is here. At the lake house. With John
’
s sons. He is John
’
s son. And if Luke is John
’
s son
—
John, who my mother has been
shacked up with for months doing god knows what
—
Then
he and I
…
We
’
re
…