Stepbrother Studs: Taboo A-Z Boxed Set Volume 1: A Stepbrother Romance Bundle (Stepbrother Studs Boxed Sets) (13 page)

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”  Her voice was muffled against his t-shirt.  “You’ll be gone so long…”

“It won’t be so bad,” he soothed, the rumble of his deep voice against her ear reassuring, even if she didn’t want it to be.  “I’ll call you every chance I get.  I’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, you won’t.”  She clung to him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering sigh.  She hadn’t even been letting herself think about it, let alone cry about it.  But now it had burst, like a dam.  The waterworks had started and she couldn’t turn them off. 

“Ah, Lace, it’s gonna be so much worse for me.”  He sighed, his fingers moving through her hair, petting her.  “You know that, right?”

“For… for you?”  she sputtered.  “How so?”

“I’ll have trouble sleeping, for one.” 

“Why?”  she sniffled.  Funny, she’d been thinking the same thing.  How was she going to sleep without him in the next room, snoring away?

“Every night when you sing in the shower I listen…” he confessed.  Then, he went on, typical Daren, “Because it sounds so good when you stop.”

“You idiot.”  She laughed, even through her tears, feeling his arms tightening around her, a satisfying squeeze. 

“It helps me sleep.”  He grinned when she lifted her head to look at him. 

“I must look awful.”  She rubbed at her swollen nose and stinging cheeks. 

“You always look beautiful.” 

She cocked her head at him, looking for the mirth in his eyes, but there wasn’t any.  They were dark, serious, and full of emotion.  Was he really going to miss her too? 

“Are you…” She reached her hand out, brushing hair out of his eyes.  “You’re really going to go?”

He nodded, looking sad, but determined.  Damn him.  Had she really thought she was going to talk him out of it?  Of course not.  But she really didn’t know what she was going to do without him. 

“They’re going to cut your hair.”  She ran her hand through it, thick and dark and curly.  Hers was bone straight.  What she wouldn’t give for hair like that.  Guys always got lucky with hair and eyelashes. 

“It’ll grow back.”  He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.  “And
I’ll come back to you
.  I promise.” 

“If you say so.”  She took a shuddering breath, knowing how doubtful she sounded. 

He hugged her again, kissing the top of her head, lips brushing her hairline. 

“Now, I gotta go study.”  He sighed, sitting back, holding her at arm’s length now, as if she were posing too much temptation. 

“Okay, fine,” she said, but she was smiling.  His words,
I’ll come back to you
, had left her feeling warm and a little tingly.  “Go study, Spock.  Just remember to take a break now and then.  I don’t want to see smoke coming out of your pointy little ears.” 

“Aye, aye, Captain.”  He gave her a little salute as he got up off the bed. 

“Hey.”  She grabbed his hand, tugging gently.  “Can you take a break from your busy studying schedule on Sunday?  I have a surprise for you.”

“You bet.”  He smiled—the boy had a dazzling smile—squeezing her hand before dropping it, turning to leave. 

“You could pack me in your suitcase,” she called, smiling when he stopped at the door.  “I’m little.  I’d fit.”

“It’s a thought.”  He grinned back.  “But you know I can’t.”

“Why not?  Afraid some sailor boy will steal my heart… or worse?”  She stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m only worried about you with half the sailor boys,” he confessed, glancing her up and down with those dark, knowing eyes.  “Well, and half the sailor girls too.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell…” Daren ducked and laughed as Lacey threw a pillow at him.  It sailed past, out into the hallway.

“I know you, Sis!”  he called back over his shoulder.  “I’d be more worried about the Navy than about you… think of my career!” 

It was a two-hour drive to Echo Lake.  They had passed the time alternating between listening to The White Stripes, playing the license plate game, and sitting in a comfortable silence.  For Lacey, being with Daren wasn’t just easy—it was like home.  That was the problem, she realized, when she turned the car up the long driveway.  Daren would be taking her “home” with him when he left.  And where did that leave her? 

The lake had long been their favorite place in the world.  It was very secluded, and could be reached directly by only one narrow road that ran around part of its edge.  The lake itself was connected via a narrow passage to the much larger Lake Beecher, which attracted more boats and land-lubbing tourists.  Their crafts hugged the larger lake’s edge, avoiding the mystery and challenge of the passage to Echo Lake. 

Typical tourists assumed there could be nothing much down there, just an aquatic dead end.  And so they missed Echo Lake, most of them, and its relative privacy and mystery were what were so important to Lacey and Daren.  Here they had spent many summers sailing, or just lying on the beach and going for long walks. 

Funny how it had been sailing that first really brought the two together, showing so much of the differences in their character.  Lacey was the kind of sailor who would seize the tiller with reckless abandon.  She could foolishly get into a tight spot, but usually get out of it.  Had she ever gone so far as to pilot some larger vessel, she would likely have given her passengers a few unnecessarily hair-raising moments, but bring them through safely, nonetheless.

Daren, on the other hand, was in impeccable sailor.  He knew and followed the rules of the sea.  Wind and waves were things he studied with respect, but he had a natural feeling for them, too.  His first literary love had been
Moby Dick
, which he read and got excited about at an early age.  He could still quote the damned thing.  Which made her both smile and roll her eyes. 

The thing was, Daren could also read her in much the same way: her currents, her weather, her tendency to break into an unexpected, air-clearing storm.  Daren had always been the one who could calm her down.  He was the only man she’d ever met who could stand in the midst of her storm without flinching. 

“Holy crow, did you make this bread, Lace?”  Daren dug into the picnic basket, pulling out the sour dough she had, indeed, baked herself.  She knew it was his favorite.  “And deviled eggs?  Damn!” 

He unpacked on the blanket they had spread out on the sand, looking happy with the menu.  A warm, lake breeze caressed her bare limbs as she sat back on her elbows to watch him, wearing just a blue bikini top and little boy-short bottoms so she could soak up as much sun as possible.  The weather—at least, outside—had turned out to be perfect. 

Daren had pulled his shirt off too, and sat on the blanket in just his swim trunks, munching happily on the crab meat she had packed.  All his favorites. 

And of course a bottle of Buried Treasure Rum.  Also a tradition, although one they’d hidden from their parents when they were younger.  Daren had brought a bottle the summer after she’d learned to drive, and she’d gotten puking drunk amidst a repertoire of corny but time-honored jokes involving pirate imitations.  He’d held her hair while she threw up in the sand and had buried it—along with the bottle—before helping her back to camp.

She didn’t get puking drunk—she wasn’t a lightweight anymore.  And neither of them had ever gone drunk sailing.  But the rum was a nice distraction, a little escape in the middle of the afternoon as they poured each other glasses and reminisced.

“Do you remember that time when Dad fixed the bilge pump?”  Lacey eyed her brother, thoroughly sated with food now, on his back in the sun, eyes closed.  His skin was almost bronze. 

“‘Fixed’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”  Daren snorted a laugh.  “And then you and I found out it wasn’t really broken after all, remember?”

“Yes.”  She smiled.  She remembered everything.  Maybe it was the rum, but she was feeling sentimental and a little sad. 

“He would’ve been so mad, if he’d found out.  You covered for me.”  Daren shaded his eyes to look at her.  “I really should’ve checked the battery before putting him through all that trouble.”

“My brother the sailor.”  She nudged him with her hip.  “Make sure you don’t do that with your sonar.”

“Do you remember the time we dropped anchor with Dad way out at Hiebert’s Point?” 

“Remember?”  She shivered in spite of the heat of the sun.  “How could I forget?  That squall came out of nowhere.”

“But you know, I remember Dad was worried before we even knew what was coming.” 

“You picked up your instincts from him.”  She smiled, looking fondly at her stepbrother. 

“Maybe.”  Daren shrugged.  “But I didn’t have enough experience then, I guess.  I didn’t know something was coming up with the weather.  Dad sure did.  If he hadn’t been so aware, who knows what could have happened?”

“Mom sure was worried.”  She nodded, squinting out at the sun-dappled lake, the memory of the dark storm coming back like it was yesterday.  “I still remember her standing on the dock waiting when we got back.  She was soaked to the skin, just like we were.  But we got back okay.”

“Yeah.”  Daren knocked back another shot of rum, grimacing. 

“Do you remember when I lost my balance?”  She cocked her head at him.  There had been a sudden shift in the wind, a wet deck, but Daren had been there.  He was always there. 

“Yeah,” he said again.

“And you caught me.”  She remembered how fiercely he grabbed onto her to stop her from going overboard.  “I’ll never forget that.”

“Mom would have killed Dad
and
me.”  He smiled, leaning over to pour her another drink.

“She would’ve, but that’s not why you did it.”

They looked at each other and smiled.

Daren had always been there.  And now he wasn’t going to be there anymore.  That burned worse than the alcohol blooming in her chest.

Then a strange silence fell over them. 

Lacey poured yet another glass of the Buried Treasure Rum. 

“Daren…” She downed one more shot of liquid courage.  “Don’t go.” 

“Lace…” He rolled toward her on the blanket, on one elbow.  Her gaze followed the hills and valleys of his biceps, his pecs, the ridges of his abdomen.  It was probably the rum making her feel so warm and flushed.  Or maybe it was the dark line of hair that started at his navel and disappeared below the elastic of his suit. 

“I don’t want you to go,” she confessed.  “I’m afraid.” 

“Of what?”  he frowned, shaking his dark, shaggy head. 

“I don’t know.”  She put her empty glass on the blanket, rolling toward him too, resting her cheek on her bare arm.