PRINCE CHARMING: A Secret Baby Stepbrother Romance (26 page)

He grabbed my hand and placed it on the stick. The touch felt like electricity. He put the car into another gear, and I could hear the engine purring. I wrenched my hand away.

“I think I’ll stick to automatic, thanks,” I snapped.

He laughed. “Someone looks nervous. Why is that?”

Damn him. How could he tell? “I’m not nervous. I just had a long flight, and I really want to see my mom,” I lied.

I lied about not being nervous. I missed my mom incredibly. Even though she was more of a friend to me than anything else, I loved her dearly. I felt like she needed me—she needed me to make sure she was okay. Sometimes, I felt more like the mother and she was the carefree child, always down for the next ride.

“My dad is taking good care of her. Don’t worry.”

“You mean she’s taking care of him? She’s too independent to let anyone take care of her,” I answered with a cool tone.

“True. She’s a talented businesswoman. I mean, her bed and breakfast is pretty badass,” he said thoughtfully.

“You’ve seen it? I’ve only seen pictures so far.”

“Yeah. It’s a nice old Victorian house. I had to fix some stuff for her. The boiler was a mess,” he said, furrowing his brow in thought. “But I’m good with my hands, so it wasn’t a huge issue.” He winked at me.

I wanted to bury my head in my purse to avoid looking at him. I was so turned on. No one had ever had this kind of an instant impact on me before. He was such an asshole, but there was something so attractive about it. Damn him. I was quiet the rest of the ride.

We pulled up to a medium-sized, paved driveway, and the large, white condo came into view. He pulled into the driveway so quickly that my seatbelt tightened in response, almost injuring my shoulder.

“Here we are. Home sweet home,” Ashton said.

I glared at him and got out of the car, slamming the door behind me. The property was tree-lined, and Gary had put up a cliché white picket fence at my mom’s request. This was her American dream. Ashton popped the trunk, and I walked back to get my bag.

“No. I’ll get it,” he said. I was surprised he showed any kind of gentlemanly behavior. “You’re tiny. Don’t want you to break a nail,” he teased.

“Ugh,” I mumbled. I turned around, refusing to argue with him anymore. My mother appeared at the door, and her face was tanned and happy—cheerful like always. I instantly forgot my anger at Ashton. “Mom!” I cried, running to her.

She opened her arms to me, embracing me tightly. She rocked me back and forth in her arms and took a step back, smoothing my shirt. “Hi, sweetie! Welcome home!”

Gary appeared behind her, carrying a tray of lemonade. He looked so relaxed in a white button down shirt and slacks. I was used to seeing pictures of him in suits, and when I had met him briefly, he had been wearing a suit as well.

“Hi, Gary,” I greeted.

He gave me a warm hug. “Welcome,” he said. “We are so glad to have you!”

Ashton was behind me. I felt him graze my back, that electric touch radiating through me again.

“Hope Ashton didn’t scare you too much on the ride over. He always drives like a madman,” he said with a dark chuckle.

ASHTON

My dad knew me far too well. He taught me how to drive, after all.

“I was careful with her,” I grumbled pleasantly.

The first time I saw her, I held on to my composure, but she was so hot. I needed to catch my breath as I put her bag in the car at the airport. I towered over her, and damn, did I have a thing for short girls. Her mother, Emma, was a lot taller, but I could see the resemblance. Emma was a good-looking lady. My dad had made a good catch, but her daughter was like nothing else.

The whole ride had left me with a raging hard on. She was so damn beautiful. There was also something innocent about her, about the way she spoke. Her voice was slightly timid, and her eyes were always filled with curiosity. When our hands touched at that brief moment in the car, I knew I wanted to fuck her.

“Why don’t you show Amy her room?” my dad asked.

She didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she looked down, her face turning red. I was good at telling if a girl wanted me, and she definitely did.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Emma said.

“Okay,” Amy replied in her soft, sexy voice.

“I’ll take this upstairs, then. Follow me.” I felt bad about being an asshole before, but I couldn’t help it. I was sometimes like that. Most girls seemed to like it, but she was hostile as hell.

“We will have brunch ready when you come down,” Emma said.

“Can’t wait. You’re a great cook,” I said politely. I was used to having Emma around, and I liked her a lot more than my dad’s other girlfriends from the past.

“You first,” Amy said.

I climbed the stairs and waited until our parents were out of earshot. “Chill. It’s not like I was trying to look at your ass or anything,” I joked. Besides, I already had, and it was a very cute little ass. I’d stared at it when she was talking to her mom.

“Hmph,”she replied indignantly.

We climbed the third flight of stairs to her room. Her mother and I had painted it a light purple, which was apparently her favorite color. I opened the door and let her in. She looked back at me and smiled.

“Wow! It’s beautiful!” she gasped.

“Thanks. I helped paint it.” I stuck my chest out proudly.

“Well, you did a great job. Where is your room?”

“This way, through the bathroom,” I said.

Her face turned ashen. “Wait. We share a bathroom?!”

“I’m not that dirty. Chill,” I teased. “Besides, it’s only temporary. My dad is having someone put in my own bathroom. They figured, for now, that we were old enough to be chill about it.”

“I don’t know if this is appropriate. Sometimes my mom forgets I’m not twelve anymore.”

“I’ve gotten into too much trouble for my dad not to know I’m a man,” I said, moving closer to her. She looked nervously up at me again with her big brown eyes.

“Let’s go downstairs. I’m hungry,” she said quickly, leaving me alone in her room. I laughed to myself and left her bags there, following her downstairs.

Brunch was waiting for us. Mounds of french toast, bacon, and fresh fruit were spread out on the table. I began buttering my toast, watching Amy from the corner of my eye. She looked around with her curiously innocent gaze and sat as far away from me as she could. This one was going to play hard-to-get. I could almost sense the chase before it even started.

“How was your trip, sweetie?” Emma asked her daughter.

Amy cleared her throat and took a sip of her orange juice before speaking. “It was really smooth. Best flight I’ve ever been on, by far.”

“Do you like your room?” my dad asked.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” she replied, smiling sheepishly. She decided to leave out the part about how she hated sharing a bathroom with me.

“You two will have to communicate or set a schedule for using the bathroom,” Emma commented. “We are having someone put in a new bathroom for Ashton, but Gary is a bit picky about who does the work.”

“I told you I could do it, Dad,” I said.

“You do a great job, but we both know you’re not the most consistent individual,” my dad joked.

I sighed. “Well, if you want to pay someone to do it, so be it. I could have done it for nearly free—besides the parts, of course,” I challenged.

“Since when has money ever been an issue for us, son?” my dad joked, his head up proudly. He puffed his chest out. Emma took his arm and grazed it seductively.

I didn’t want to see that, so I turned my head and so did Amy because her eyes met mine. We shared a small, mutual smile—our first moment of genuinely chill interaction. She must have hated parental PDA as much as I did.

I cut into my french toast before jamming most of it into my mouth. The taste of the cinnamon, syrup, and butter was incredible.

“Someone’s hungry,” Emma said, giggling.

“I’m a growing boy. I gotta get my first five meals in before I hit the bar later.”

“He’s been so excited to go to the bar since he turned twenty-one a month ago,” my dad said to Amy.

I felt embarrassed and cleared my throat. “I drank long before that, though. Most of the bartenders around here don’t give a damn,” I informed Amy.

Amy giggled and took a bite of bacon. “Oh yeah? I guess people in New York aren’t so uptight after all.”

I got up, pushing my chair in. “I’m going to go work on my other car.”

“Always working on something,” said Dad. “His favorite thing to do.”

I left the room, a bit annoyed. My dad always had to try to bring me down a level, but in front of Amy, it was unacceptable. I wanted to look like the cool badass I was, and someone being too young to go into a bar wasn’t the type of image I wanted to paint.

“Why do I care, anyway?” I mumbled to myself.

I opened the door to the garage. My old blue car sat, shining and comforting, in the dark. It was my first car—the last piece I had of my old life with my mother. I thought back, imagining her standing in front of it.

“Do you like it, Scoots?” she’d asked. ‘Scoots’ was my nickname, short for Scooter. I’d had a scooter when I was a kid I had been obsessed with.

“Hell yeah, I do,” sixteen-year-old me said, my spiky hair and UFO pants contrasting with each other.

“Wanna take it out for a test drive?” Mom had asked.

That day was one of the best memories I had of her. She later moved to Vermont to be closer to her family, and last time I heard, she’d met a new guy. We still spoke on the phone, but I was mad at her for leaving. My parents never told me why they split up, but I think it had something to do with my father’s work schedule. Emma was always working, which was probably why Dad and she were a better match. I’d never met two people who liked to work more than they did.

“Hello, old friend,” I greeted my car, running my hand over it. “Time to get you running again.”

AMY

I was glad to escape the overwhelming mushiness of my mother and soon-to-be stepfather, but I was especially relieved to be away from Ashton. I found it hard to relax around him—he was just too sexy and infuriating. I slipped up the stairs to my new room and took a better look at it.

In the corner of the room was a white vanity with plenty of places to put my brushes and makeup. In the center was my bed—it looked king-size—with a white comforter and big, puffy pillows. There was a small, white desk with a bulletin board above it. I had a big walk-in closet, and the white carpet was almost covered with a light purple rug. Ashton did a good job painting the room. There were no inconsistencies in the color at all.

The bathroom loomed in the corner, threatening. I took a step in, noting the normalcy. There were two sinks, one his, I assumed. It was covered in razors, hair, and man-hygiene products. I wrinkled my nose. At least my side was clean.

There was a door at the other end of the bathroom, and I was so damn curious. I peeked in carefully to see his room, dark as evening set in. He had a single light on. His room was mostly red with a bong in the center of it—Lord knows for what. He had a strobe light in the back, posters of naked women and cars all over his walls, and his bed was giant and unkempt. I laughed to myself—he was such a typical dude.

I took another step in and saw lots of photographs on his desk. There was a woman there, smiling with light blonde hair. She stood with Gary and Ashton, so I assumed it was his mother. I felt a pang of sadness for him. This must not be easy for him, either. I closed the door to his room, feeling guilty for snooping. I returned to my room and began unpacking when my phone rang.

“Hey girl, what’s going on?” I greeted Sarah, pressing the phone to my ear.

“I just got home. We unpacked, and my dad is getting dinner ready,” she replied.

“I just ate. There’s so much I have to tell you,” I said.

“Tell me more about the guy,” she urged.

“Okay…Well, he’s tall, and he’s a jerk,” I began.

She laughed, the sound partially muffled by the phone and her breathing. “What else?”

“We share a bathroom,” I said.

“What? No way!” She gasped.

“Seriously, I don’t know what to do. It’s so awkward.” I groaned theatrically.

“Well”—she giggled—“make sure you’re shaved and prepared at all times.”

“Ugh. I mean, I feel ready to lose my virginity and all, but he’s my stepbrother-to-be,” I contested.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing. That is weird, though. I feel for you.”

“Amy?” I heard my mother say from outside the door.

“I gotta go,” I told Sarah.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yes, definitely. Love ya.”

“Love ya, too!”

“Come in, Mom,” I called, sitting on my bed.

My mom entered the room, looking around with a smile. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

I smiled. “Yeah. It’s great.”

She sat next to me and patted my arm affectionately. “Thank you for being so mature about this. I know it was hard for you when your dad and I split up,” she said gently.