Destined (2 page)

Love.
Goddamn it.
They’d lost Mom and Dad in a
pile up on the interstate in a snowstorm, the year Sinclair turned fourteen,
and both Ashton and Craig had found out what love really did to a person. To
say their little foster sister had been devastated was an understatement, and
they came to understand what a huge part she played in their lives. All the
years of her tagging along and bothering them, the snitching to their dad, her
total loyalty and hero worship had struck home. She knew them inside and out,
with that uncanny ability to read others that certain people developed when
raised early on without structure. Sinclair had learned to protect
herself
, and he hoped that skill served her well now,
because she had to understand she couldn’t be part of what he and Craig did
together and expected of their women. Never mind they’d lusted for her over the
past years, never acting on it because it was wrong.

Ashton knew exactly when he’d
fallen.
Graduation.
Without their mom to help out,
he’d taken Sinclair shopping for a dress and other fripperies, listened to her
bemoan how awkward it was to conjugate with classmates a year her senior. Who
would be away to parties afterward, drinking the night
away.
Not to mention the couples who’d booked hotel rooms in the surrounding towns.
The thought of his foster sister getting drunk and taken advantage of, had made
him so incensed he’d nearly crushed the steering wheel with his grip while he
plotted.

And the dress…
He’d watched Sinclair grow up wearing pink girl clothes, and dance outfits,
accessorized with cowboy boots and a Stetson. She was a free spirit in both her
actions and her clothing choices. His mom had encouraged her, and while he’d
vaguely been away of Sinclair’s body changing as she grew to her five foot six
height, he deliberately hadn’t paid much attention.
Until the
dress.

Black, form fitting, it featured a
sweetheart neckline that set off the creamy slope of her breasts and slender
shoulders and the column of her long neck, bared by her upswept, dark hair. The
look in her crystalline blue eyes, seeking his approval, had knocked him into
next week. Sexual need didn’t cover what he felt. She had been seventeen years
old, beautiful and so damn appealing, and he’d castigated himself as being a
pervert. The relief he’d felt, remembering she’d be away to school by August,
living with old friends of his family, doing her undergraduate studies, had
been overwhelming. He wouldn’t be tempted, and could deal with her coming home
for holiday visits. He’d avoided thinking about what she might get up to when
away at college, whom she might meet.

He’d talked her into a demure white
gown.
Arranged for a nerd to take her to prom, threatening
the kid with a horrible death if he didn’t take good care of Sinclair and return
her—intact.
Because he and Craig, aided by Rose, their
housekeeper, had protected their jewel.
Not that Sinclair did anything
other than study and
go
to school, and work on the
ranch, as she recovered from the loss of her foster parents. They wanted her to
find a good guy for her future, although neither of them really had the heart
for it.

She was always
there
. Present.
A part of the family, and yet
not.
He now wondered what kind of messages
he
and his brother had given her, likely running hot and cold. Her appeal to them
wasn’t all the result of wishful thinking.
Shit
.
He had to fix this.

“What you’ve learned about our
predilections aside, honey, you have to know that they don’t include you.”

Why
not? At least discuss it. It took her enormous courage to come to you about
this.

Pushing that little voice aside, he
watched Sinclair grow more determined, shoving that mass of black hair back
with an impatient hand.
“How come?
I mean, you can’t
deny you have feelings for me.”

Craig came to his rescue. “We do
have feelings for you, little sis.
Of the sibling variety.
We love you because you’re family. We’ll always love you. But like a sister.”

The set of his brother’s shoulders
belied his thoughtful words. Ash sympathized. His own body was so tight he
feared to relax, thinking he might shatter into pieces. It killed him to see
all the color drain from Sinclair’s beautiful face and moisture sheen those
silvery eyes. He wanted to kiss it all better. Kiss all of her. But that way
lay
insanity.

“Like family. You’re determined to
see me as a sister.” Her voice was now flat, and he wanted to do anything to
alleviate the despair he heard lacing the tone.

“Our mom raised you, Sinclair.” He tried
to explain. “Our dad expected us to protect you and look out for you as our
sister. We can’t impugn their memories.”

A faint choking sound passed her
lips when he played the parental card, and it alarmed him, but she visibly
swallowed and lifted her head. Feisty Sinclair was back, and he wished he
believed it was for real.
“Of course.
I … I apologize.
Awkward.
Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been away for
some time. Distance probably made you think—”

“Don’t presume to tell me what to
think, Ashton Russell.
Or to feel either.”
She cut him
off with alacrity as she stood and headed for the door. He tore his eyes away
from the curve of her bottom, hugged by those tight shorts. “I’ll find another
school to do my field work.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Craig
said. “You got accepted here to finish up your degree. That was the plan. It’s
a great university, and you’ll have a place to live and all.
Lots
of opportunity to practice those skills and theory.”

Craig trailed off as Sinclair
studied him. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure I’ll be able to see you every day
after spilling my guts.
Although I don’t believe you about
seeing me as a sister.”

Ash clenched his fists as her
slender body slipped through the doorway and he heard the patter of her boots
on the stairs.
Fuck.

The clink of a bottle caught his
attention, and he turned to see Craig across the room, pouring a finger of
bourbon into a heavy glass. “Want one?”

“Sure. The day might as well end
without me seeing it clearly.” There was ranch work to be done, though, so he’d
limit his intake.

“We gutted her.” His brother
sloshed liquor into another glass and recapped the bottle. It set down with a
thud. “And where’s she
gonna
go now at such short
notice?”

Ashton shook his head. “She has to
finish out here, at least this year. It takes time to find these placements.
I’m not letting her throw five years of schooling away. I’ll give her some time
and then go talk to her. It’ll work out.”

“You think she meant it? About
wanting us both? Accepting a ménage?”

“Fuck, Craig! Have you ever known
Sinclair to say or do anything she didn’t mean once she got herself organized
with Mom’s help?”

“We’ve wanted her for years. She’s
so beautiful, and that outfit she had on today …
fuck
me,
Ash.”

“Doesn’t matter.
It’s like incest.” He wasn’t thinking about the way his cock had saluted and
stood at rigid attention when Sinclair sashayed her sweet ass into the dining
slash family room. Or about the way her nipples poked against her scrap of a
shirt. Her legs went on forever, taut and lean from all the years in a saddle.

It was Craig’s turn to shake his
head. “It’s not. Her parents never relinquished their rights. Sinclair is our
foster sister. No different from growing up with the girl next door who matures
and we then see as a woman.
Happens all the time.”

“Like Melinda.” Ash leaked
bitterness and sarcasm all over that, and his voice echoed in the room.
“Our first girl next door.”

“Nothing like that bitch,” Craig
said quietly. “We know Sinclair much better than Melinda. There’s no
comparison.”

“It sounds like you’re rethinking
this. We agreed. Sinclair is out of bounds.”

Throwing himself down on the old
couch, Craig raised his glass,
then
quaffed the
contents. “I want to rethink it. I’ve felt things for her since she was
sixteen. You were away at college when she … blossomed. Damn it, Ash. Having
her here with only Rose as a chaperone was a test.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I know I did.
Just
as you did when it hit you.”

“We can’t, Craig. Mom and Dad
would—”

“What?” His brother interrupted. “Disapprove?
Do you really think so? Mom was the least judgmental of anyone, and Dad would
want what was best for Sinclair. He always wanted a girl, and he loved her to
death.”

Ashton couldn’t keep his voice
down.
“Ménage, brother.
Remember? That’s what we knew
we’d end up in. What we’ve been doing all these years.
Looking
for the right woman.
On top of everything else in Sinclair’s life, can
we do that to her? Can you imagine how
this place—
these
people—would react and treat her?”

“I know.” Craig slammed his glass
down on the coffee table so hard the lead crystal actually made a fluting
sound. “We can look after ourselves, but they’d crucify Sinclair.”

“I’ll explain things to her again,”
Ash promised. “We’ll figure out a way for us all to live under one roof without
it being too sour.”

Shoving up from his seat, Craig
made his way to the door. “I’m not ashamed of what we do, Ashton. It’s who we
are. But Sinclair—”

“Exactly.
She’s not one of those women we favor.” Ashton cut Craig off before he dug them
in any deeper, then followed his brother out and they gained the front door in
silence. It slammed shut with
finality,
and something
in his heart—and maybe his soul—closed with the same sensation. Life was never
going to be the same.

****

Rising from her crouch over the hot
air vent, Sinclair used the heels of her hands to scrub away the tears. Crying
never solved anything, once you released the pain, as her Mom used to say. Not
her birth mom. Sondra rarely had anything to say that didn’t involve
herself
, or else it made no sense. Dave, her birth dad, had
made an effort, if her memories of a tall, thin guy who would pick her up and
hug her, were accurate. Nope, the
Russells
had raised
her and had done a pretty good job. Too bad their sons didn’t view her as
anything other than a little sister, a blood sister, and she didn’t meet
specifications. Not at all like the other
women they
favored
. Craig wasn’t ashamed of his
penchant to share with his brother, but it sounded like he was ashamed of her.

She’d listened at the floor vent as
soon as she got upstairs, hoping her retreat had at least been adult in nature,
when she’d really wanted to scream and throw things. Instead she’d thought to
leave them with the idea that she couldn’t stay if not as their … lover, she
supposed was the closest descriptor. Hoped they would discuss it and come
around a little. It felt ironic she’d eavesdropped as she’d done when she was a
child.

The vent didn’t conduct
conversation very well anymore, maybe full of dust from the intervening years.
All she’d heard were snippets of her being considered their sister, and how badly
they felt about hurting her feelings. When they’d mentioned Melinda, a big,
cold fist took hold of her heart and squeezed it until she thought she’d expire
from the pain.

Lying back on her bed, the same
narrow little twin she remembered from forever ago, Sinclair studied the
ceiling. She’d obviously been wrong about Craig and Ashton’s interest in her
going beyond the familial. Her stupid longing had blinded her to the true
facts. They wanted the girl next door. Melinda was coming home after a failed marriage.
Ash had told her that in one of his last emails, and it was time Sinclair faced
up to the real world. No way could she stay here and see that bimbo fit herself
between the two men Sinclair loved. Maybe it was too corny to think they’d be
the only two men she would ever love, but it sure felt like that right now. The
shattering pain in her chest took her breath away again, and she fought another
deluge of tears.

It was time to take action. She
knew it was unlikely there was another placement available in order to finish
out her degree, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other jobs for her.
Just not here.
Not in the same house as the men she didn’t
measure up for, and certainly not to hang around and see that Melinda be
welcomed back. Come to think about it, she didn’t think she wanted to be around
people who wanted to be with that woman.
 

Rolling onto her feet, she opened
the lower drawer of the dresser she and her Mom had painted and decaled all
those years ago. Little princess patterns glittered up at her, and the pink
painted wood felt a bit warped under her hand. Delving under a neatly folded
stack of nightgowns, she drew out the small box she’d been given when Mom
deemed her responsible enough to care for important things. It held her birth
certificate and some letters from her birth father. It didn’t matter that he’d
stopped writing years back. She still read them from time to time.

Sinclair
Marlys
Allard-Renton.
Her birth mom was French
Canadian, and Sinclair thought Sondra had gone back to Quebec. Dave was still
in Wyoming, but she had no idea where. In any event, she enjoyed a little
matter of dual citizenship, and if there was ever a time to start over, it was
now. Ignoring the part of her that pointed out mature women didn’t run from
their problems, she reached for her cell.