Authors: Alycia Taylor
“Do you want to see the house?” Mom asked me,
bringing me out of my perverted reverie.
“Sure, I’d love to.” Please God, anything to take my
mind off of my stepbrother’s fine ass.
“Did you leave your bags in the car?”
“Yeah, it was a little muddy and slippery out there.
I’ll go back out in a bit and get them.”
“I’ll ask Mark to help you,” Mom said. “I’m sure he
won’t mind.” Jesus, how was I going to do this for two months? Now that I know
his name, the sound of it alone conjures up all kinds of kink in my head. I’m
disgusting.
“Okay, thanks,” was all I said. What else could I
say?
No, please don’t ask cowboy,
stepbrother hotness to flex his extraordinarily large muscles and carry in my
bags?
I’m a mess.
“This is the den,” Mom was saying. It was cozy,
decorated in modern furniture, but with a hint of country in the thick wood
that adorned it and the warm red and black plaid upholstery that covered it.
There was a baby grand piano in one
corner which
looked a bit out of place, but I knew that Mom loved to play. I think she gave
up the dream of becoming a professional playing for an orchestra or something
because of me. She never let on that it was any kind of burden, but sometimes
when I saw a piano I felt a twinge of guilt over things that weren’t really my
fault.
The large stone fireplace still held the warm embers
of a fire and the glass eyes of the head of a moose stared out at me from above
it.
“It’s really nice,” I said, trying to pull my eyes
from the moose. He was staring at me and it was just a little bit unnerving.
Mom laughed and said, “I wondered what you would
think about him. Rob doesn’t hunt as much as he used to, but he used to be a
pretty astute hunter, from what he’s told me. I guess that guy there is proof.”
“What’s his name?” I asked her, still looking at him.
“Mark calls him Bullwinkle,” she said with a laugh.
I smiled. Mark had a sense of humor and he was hot, still not good. Mom led me
from
there
into a formal dining area with a huge
antique-looking oak table and hutch. The hutch was filled with Mom’s china.
She’d had it since I was a kid. It was the one thing she never gave up and
never replaced or updated. It had belonged to her grandmother, and I think it’s
the only piece of her family that she felt like she had left.
“I love this table,” I said. “It reminds me of the
one that Marcy had brought over from Italy, remember?” Marcy is my mom’s best
friend. She still lives in the city close to me, and I see her a lot. She asks
me all the time if I’ve seen my mother. I guess now when I get home I can tell
her that I had. Marcy would have a million questions. Like me, she’s confused
about Mom’s sudden change in taste. She was also confused about why I didn’t
attend the wedding. I stuck with the same story with her as I had with everyone
else: school.
“Of course, that table is her pride and joy,” Mom
said. “One of Rob’s friends made this one. He has a custom furniture shop here
in town. He does beautiful work. Rob lets him buy some of his trees and he
makes these knotty pine end tables and beds. They’re amazing.” It was cute to
see my Mom becoming so acclimated to her new lifestyle. I was genuinely happy
for her. “Have you seen Marcy lately?” she asked me.
“I had coffee with her and Sue last Friday. They
both send their love.” Sue is Marcy’s daughter. She’s about six years younger
than
me
so we were never really close, but sometimes
it’s fun to get together with them. Being a teenager without the world pressing
down on you seems so long ago to me sometimes. It’s refreshing to be around Sue
and remember being that young and naïve. I know that I’m only twenty-one, not
that far out of my teens myself. I feel a lot older sometimes, though.
“Oh good!
I talk to her about once a month. I can’t believe Sue is already going to be sixteen
this year. Time flies.” Mom led me up the stairs as she talked and down a short
hallway. There were pictures of Mark at various stages of his life along the
walls. It seems there would be no escaping him. She opened the first door on
the left.
“This will be your room while you’re here. There’s a
private bath attached to it there,” she said, pointing at the door on the other
side. The room had a large four-poster bed and matching heavy oak dresser and
nightstands. There was a big picture window with a window seat in it and a
bookshelf filled with books in one corner. The curtains were made out of
delicate white lace and the bedspread matched them. It was really nice, and I
had a feeling Mom decorated this one with me in mind. I felt a pang in my chest
again about not being at the wedding. She did so much for me. No matter how
hard she had looked for the “right” man after I got older, she was still always
there for me. I owed her better than that. Guiltily, I was glad she hadn’t
mentioned it again after I stupidly brought it up.
“So how is school going?” she asked me as we
continued down the hallway.
For me, school has never been easier to talk
about
. This was actually the first year that I could
honestly say that it was going well since I was in the eighth grade. “I’m doing
really well,” I told her. “Imagine me having two whole months to visit over the
summer and not having to go to summer school.” I had considered spending it on
the beach instead. Venice Beach was calling to me…but
like
I said, I owed Mom better than that, so here I am. It really was the first
summer I’ve had off in years. I had gone to summer school every year since
middle school. My teachers were always fond of telling me how bright I was and
how I could do the work if only I would apply myself. I knew that. When I did
the work, it came easy. It wasn’t until I was nearly grown before I realized
that I wanted to do it and I wanted to succeed.
Mom laughed. School used to be a sore subject, so it
was good that we could laugh about it now. I had missed her so much, and I
hoped so badly that the issue of the wedding wasn’t something that would come
between us. She acted and treated me the same as she always did…with love and
warmth, as if nothing I could ever do would make her not love me. I knew that I
needed to keep my thoughts about my “brother” to myself and snuff them out as
quickly as I could. It was all just too sordid, and I was not going to put her
relationship with her new husband in jeopardy for my over-active libido.
Speaking of my libido, she asked, “So have you seen
Scott?” She was showing me a room filled with craft supplies. My mom loved her
crafts. I picked up a pillow she looked to be in the middle of embroidering and
fingered the lace. I hadn’t thought about Scott for a while. At first it had
been too hard and now I was actually at a place where none of that stuff in the
past mattered any longer.
“He got out of county about a month ago. Last I
heard he was clean and doing well.” Scott was an executive with a social media
firm. I’d met him at a party and was instantly infatuated. He was handsome and
fun and he charmed the pants right off of me. I found out after I’d practically
let him move in with me that he was very addicted to cocaine and very married
with two kids. The night he was arrested for possession almost nine months ago,
I finally told my mom everything about his drug use, his wife and kids, our
fights…she’d advised me to use the time he was in jail to make a clean break.
Walk away. It wasn’t easy because I truly did love him…at least I thought I
did, but I knew that she was right. I changed my phone number and didn’t go
visit him. The first thing he did when he got out of jail was knock on my door.
I stayed strong, and I didn’t let him in. I told him we were through and he needed
to go home to his wife. Then I wished him luck with his sobriety and closed the
door. I was finally focused on getting my own life on track – I didn’t need to
have to try and fix someone else’s.
“He doesn’t bother you?” she asked. That was her
main concern. She was afraid when he got out that he would be coming around
again and that I would take him back. I don’t have the greatest track record
with men.
“No, he came by once when he first got out, and I
told him we were finished. He hasn’t bothered me since. I think he’s moved on,
and I know that I have.”
She came over and put her arm around me. “Have I
told you lately how proud I am of you?” she asked. I felt tears spring into my
eyes. I wondered how long I was going to remember not going to her wedding
every time she said something nice to me.
I forced a smile and said, “Not lately.”
“Well, I am. You’ve come so far and worked so hard. I’m
very proud of you.”
I hugged her, “Thanks Mom.”
CHAPTER
SIX
MARK
I was “helping” Dad in the kitchen when Lydia came
back downstairs. Lexi wasn’t with her and I wasn’t surprised to find myself
disappointed. She’d only been here an hour or so and I already felt infatuated
with her. What in God’s name was wrong with me?
“Mark, can I ask you a big favor?”
“Sure.”
“Lexi was going to take a shower before dinner. Her
bags are still in the car. Would you mind getting them out for her?”
“Not at all.
Is it open or do I need the keys?”
Lydia held out a key fob and said, “She said this is
all you need.” I looked at it and smiled. It was one of those push button start
cars. You just had to have the fob on you and the doors and the trunk would automatically
unlock when you touched them.
Pretty fancy.
I took it from
her and slipped my muddy boots on that I’d left drying at the front door. I
opened the trunk on her nice little Charger and saw that it was literally full
of bags. Damn! Who needs this many clothes on a ranch? I pulled out a wardrobe
bag that looked like maybe it had nice dresses in it and I wondered where she
thought she was going. I slung that over my back and pulled out a hand-held
suitcase and one with rollers on it. I was careful not to roll it over the mud.
I carried those up to the porch and went back for the rest. There were three
more. Once I had them all out, I closed up the car and looked down at the mud
situation. Lexi was kind of right about this, it was a big mess.
Before I went back in with her bags, I went over to
the barn and took out a few long pieces of plywood we kept in there for repairs.
I took them over and laid them down over the mud. It was like a make-shift
sidewalk. I guess it would be better than
nothing
. I
slipped off my boots again on the porch and then headed up the stairs with my
first load of Lexi’s stuff. This was what being a brother was about, lugging
around your sister’s stuff because she packed way too much to be able to carry
it all herself. When I got to her room, the door was closed and I could hear
the shower still running. I just left the bags outside the door and went to get
the next batch. As I sat those down, I heard the shower stop. I let my
perverted mind go to the fact that just one thin door separated
me and the sexiest woman on earth…
and she was naked. Damn
it! I’m going to need my own shower now – a cold one.
*****
Dinner was…interesting. Dad cooked up some steaks on
his grill. He cut up a bunch of vegetables and stir-fried them together with
some kind of homemade sauce that caramelized and gave them a sweet flavor and
crunchy texture, and he made the best garlic mashes potatoes in the world. I
still have no idea if Lydia cooks or not. If she does, it’s probably just a
battle to get Dad to let her in the kitchen. He’d taken me in
there
professing he needed my help, but it was just to give
the women some space, I’m sure. The meal was delicious, as usual. I wished that
I could concentrate on the food. Unfortunately the woman sitting across from me
at the table was much more interesting and delicious than the steak…or any of
the rest of it. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of my new stepsister and as sweet
as she was to look at, I was completely creeping myself out.
“This is amazing, Rob.” Lexi even ate hot. She put
the fork with the steak on it to her full lips and once she slipped the bite
in, she made a little sexy moaning sound when she tasted it. I was imagining
her now making that same noise only with something else in her mouth. God, I
was hopeless. I realized that she was looking at me staring at her. I wondered
if my thoughts were apparent to her before I quickly looked away. My father was
looking at Lexi and so was Lydia. At least I wasn’t the only one staring at
her, I as just going to have to be really conscious of the looks on my face.
“Thank you, Lexi. Do you cook?” Dad asked her.
“Not as much as I’d like,” she said. “Mom taught me
how to cook Italian food when I was a kid.” “It was something we did on Sundays
a lot. We’d make homemade pasta and sauce and since we always made way too
much, Mom would box up the leftovers and she and I would drop them off at the
homeless shelter. She has a great big heart. Has she made her homemade pasta
for you yet?” Dad was looking at Lydia
like
he was
shocked.
“You cook?” he asked her.
Lydia laughed. “I would,” she said, “if my husband
ever decided to let me in the kitchen.”