Page 3 of Beautiful Desire (Blossom Beach #3)

Fletcher, One Month Later

“ Y o, did you order the food?” my buddy and the attorney for my father’s company, Reese, asks as he strolls back into my bedroom, handing me a beer before cracking open one of his own.

“Yeah.” I nod, taking a large swig from the can before placing it on top of my dresser, so I can get back to emptying out the drawers.

I leave in the morning for Blossom Beach, and in true Fletcher fashion, I waited until the last possible minute to get this condo packed.

In my defense, I don’t fucking want to go, and a part of me naively thought I could convince my dad to call off this ridiculous move. Lot of fucking good that did me.

“Can’t believe you’re actually doing this,” Reese mutters.

“Yeah, me fucking neither.” I huff. “But what choice do I have?”

“I don’t know, man. It’s too bad you’re not an adult who can make his own choices.” Pausing, he drags his gaze over at me, a smirk tugging on his lips as he adds, “Oh, wait— You actually are an adult who can make his own choices.”

Flipping him off, I reach for my phone as it starts buzzing on the dresser. Seeing the name flash across the screen, I heave a sigh before answering. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, honey.” I can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes me feel like shit for dreading this move.

It’s not that I don’t love seeing my mother, but my life is here, in Charleston.

It always has been. Even when she and my dad got a divorce and she moved away for work, I stayed here with my dad.

“You got everything ready for tomorrow?” she asks.

“Just about.” That’s not the whole truth, but it’s not exactly a lie either. Between Reese and I, and the twenty-four rack of beer we picked up this morning, we’ve managed to make quite a dent in packing, but I still have a ways to go. “I’m leaving here first thing.”

“Good, good,” she chirps, her tone taking on a high pitch, like it does whenever she’s nervous.

Blowing out a breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose, already not liking where this is going. I don’t know what she’s about to tell me, but whatever it is, it’s going to piss me off. “Just spit it out.”

“There’s been somewhat of a hiccup and a slight change of plans…” she starts to say, then clears her throat. “But I don’t want you to worry, honey, because we’ve got it all figured out”

Clenching my jaw, I heave a sigh. “What hiccup, Mom?”

“The plan was for Edward and I to move back into the house today, since the contractors finished all the work that required us to be out of the house. However, this morning, we learned a pipe burst in the middle of the night and flooded most of the main level.”

“Damn, that sucks,” I murmur. “So, did you not get to move back in?”

“Honey, I just told you the main level of the house flooded. No, we didn’t get to move back in. The contractors have to take care of that before they can move on to anything else, so it’s set us back.”

Knowing where she’s going with this, I let my head fall back on my shoulders while my eyes close and I grind down on my molars.

“Mom, I’m supposed to be coming there tomorrow .

I can’t push the move; Dad already gave up my fucking condo and cut off all access to the money! What do you expect me to do?”

This is such bullshit. I didn’t even want to go there in the first place, and now this happens? I know my cold-hearted drill sergeant of a father won’t give a fuck either. Knowing him, he’d tell me being homeless would be good for me. Build character . I can fucking hear it now.

“Now, honey…” Her tone is placating, and it makes me feel like a petulant child.

“I’ve got it all figured out, if you would just calm down for a moment, and listen.

” My nostrils flare on a harsh exhale, and when I don’t respond, she continues.

“You can stay at Georgia’s instead, at least until renovations are back on track.

And besides”—a small giggle bubbles out of her—“staying at your sister’s house would probably be more fun than staying with your mom, I’m sure. ”

“I’m not doing that. No way.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I blow out an exaggerated sigh, feeling my blood pressure rise by the second.

“This whole situation is humiliating. I didn’t even want to move up there in the first place—no offense, Mom.

But my whole life is here —my job, my condo, my friends.

Dad gave me no fucking choice when he decided to throw a temper tantrum and cut me off. ”

“That’s enough swearing,” she cuts me off. “That’s no way to speak to your mother!”

“Sorry,” I huff. “As I was saying, it was bad enough that I was expected to live with my mom and her husband at my ripe age of twenty-four, but now I’m expected to, what?

Sleep on someone’s couch, who’s basically a stranger to me?

Absolutely not. Georgia and I never talk; we never have, and we know nothing about each other. No. I’m not doing it.”

Reese chuckles from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I narrow my gaze on him, which only makes him laugh harder.

The amusement on his face pisses me off, and I can already hear what he’s going to say when I hang up.

“Such a fucking spoiled brat.” As if he’s not a rich, pretentious, trust-fund baby, who’s chauffeured around town because driving is beneath him.

The only difference is, nobody is out here trying to take it away from him like my father is to me.

But unlike Reese’s parents, my dad hates to see me happy.

“Honey, you’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” my mom asks. “Nobody said anything about sleeping on a couch, and your sister is plenty nice and welcoming, and I’m sure?—”

“She is not my sister,” I grit out, a fresh cloud of irritation spreading in my chest.

“Oh, Fletcher Alexander, you knock it right off!” she huffs. “You always get so weird about that, and I don’t understand why. Edward and I have been married for long enough; I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to accept they’re your siblings.”

“Step,” I correct her. Georgia Astor is my step sister, not my sister, and the distinction matters. “And I’m still not doing it. This wasn’t part of the plan. I’m calling Dad. He can’t actually expect me to go along with this.”

“Well, honey, I’ve already talked to him, and he very much is on board. I think it’s about time you do too.”

As if on cue, a notification comes through, and when I bring the phone away from my ear and look at the screen, it’s a text message.

Daddy Dearest: You need to wake up and leave on time in the morning, Fletcher. I’ve got the cleaners coming at 9am, and the painters scheduled for shortly after that. I’m on a tight schedule, getting the condo ready for the new tenants, so no fucking around.

I grit my teeth so hard, my jaw pops as I bring the phone back up to my ear.

Fuck him. And fuck this idiotic fucking plan.

I’ve been promised St. James Properties since I was a kid.

It’s been my only dream for as long as I can remember.

The plan has always been to inherit part of it and join him on the board when I turn twenty-five—it’s the reason for everything I’ve done up until now, it’s why I’m still in fucking school, even though there are dozens of other ways I can think to use my free time—and now that we’re basically in the final hour, he wants to switch up and go back on his promise.

“Fletcher, dear,” my mom says, cutting through the red haze clouding my head as I think of all the ways my father has fucked me over.

“I’ve got to go, Edward and I are going to see a movie tonight, but don’t worry about the situation at Georgia’s.

I know it’s not ideal, or what you’re wanting to do, but try to keep an open mind about it.

” Doubtful. “It’s a temporary situation, and Georgia is probably a great person to talk to, since she’s been where you are with school. ”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later. Have fun at the movies. Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

Hanging up the call, I slam the phone face down on the dresser before pounding the rest of my beer.

I’ve been backed into a corner by my father, and I hate it.

Hate how much power he has over my life.

Yeah, it’s his company, and he’s technically my boss, but I’m not a fucking kid, and in a year, we’re supposed to be partners. Shouldn’t I have a say in the matter?

Why the fuck do I put up with this?

“What was all that about?” Reese questions as he hands me another beer. I didn’t even notice he left the room. I crack open the can and take another swig before filling him in on what my mom said. By the time I finish, he’s got tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

“I’m glad my life is so hilarious,” I deadpan.

Wiping the moisture off his cheeks, Reese shakes his head. “Sorry, man,” he offers, patting my arm. “I don’t mean to laugh, but even you have to admit, it’s funny.”

“I can assure you, nothing about this situation is even remotely amusing to me.”

“Come on, man,” he drawls. “Out of everyone in your family, Georgia is the one your father assigned to babysit you, and now you have to live with her too? It’s a little funny.”

“She’s not fucking babysitting me,” I spit out, clenching my jaw as I get back to packing up my dresser. I didn’t learn about this arrangement my dad worked out with Georgia until a few days ago, and I’m not fucking happy about it.

“That’s not the point.” He chuckles. “You’ve had a crush on her for how long now?”

“I don’t have a crush on her.” The urge to turn around and punch him in the face is strong, especially when he keeps going.

“Bullshit!” Reese barks out another laugh.

“You spent every single summer in Blossom Beach at your mom’s house in high school, and I distinctly remember many a times you calling to tell me about the massive hard-ons you got from seeing your hot, older stepsister prancing around the pool in her swimsuit when she came back from college. ”

My ears are ringing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m seconds away from stroking out with how high my blood pressure has to be.

“I was a horny teenager,” I point out, refusing to look at my best friend.

“And she was much older and more developed. Any guy that age would pop a boner. Doesn’t mean I had a fucking crush on her. Be for real right now, dude.”

Reese snorts. “Whatever you say. Can’t wait to hear all about you jacking off in the bathroom to the thought of her. This is gonna be good.”

“Fuck off,” I growl. “That’s not happening.”

It’s not.

Don’t get me wrong, Georgia is a beautiful woman.

Of course, she is. But there’s nothing wrong or weird about saying that.

It’s just a fact. And sure, I may find her attitude attractive, and I’ve maybe, just once or twice in passing, thought about what it would be like to be bossed around by her, but only because I’m not used to women like that.

All the women I’ve ever been with expect me to boss them around.

They’re more than willing to submit to my every want and desire, so seeing a woman so confidently not submissive, in any aspect of her life, is different.

It’s hot. And yeah, okay, I admit, her curves-for-days figure, full, pouty lips, and her big, round, honey-glazed eyes are kind of sexy.

Sue me, I’m a red-blooded man, who has eyes, but it doesn’t mean anything. Georgia is my stepsister , and I do not have—nor have I ever had—a crush on her. And I’ve definitely never fantasized about being completely at her mercy before.

Nope.

I do not want my stepsister.