Page 13

Chapter 13

Stepbrothers

ZARA

I ’ve never been to a wedding.

Or at least, none that I can remember.

This morning I went through all the primping, the hair and makeup done by professionals, with mixed feelings. While I don’t mind looking pretty, this was a little excessive, in my opinion. I understand that Mom wants to look perfect. It’s her big day.

But I could have gotten ready without all the fuss. Of course, I went along with everything Mom wanted, because I want to make her happy.

Heather, on the other hand, was totally in her element and kept thanking Mom for inviting her to get ready with us.

So was Angela, the deputy mayor’s daughter, and third bridesmaid.

“Oh my God,” Heather whispers into my ear, after the officiant tells Scott that he can kiss his bride. “I want my wedding to be exactly like this one. Everything is perfect. The venue, the flowers, the vows. The dress. Your mom looks so happy.”

She’s right. I’ve never seen Mom so happy. Scott spared no expense to make this day perfect. But what makes me happy for her isn’t the gorgeous Country Club garden with a view of the beach, the designer white silk strapless dress Mom chose, or the flowers. It’s the way Scott looks at her. I’ve been observing them all week, and it’s more than obvious that they love each other, and he worships her.

I smile at Heather. “Yeah, she looks happy. I think Scott treats her well.”

She nods. “Absolutely. Scott isn’t just loaded, he’s smart and charming. And even though he’s old enough he could be my dad… I wouldn’t be mad to have him in my bed every night.”

“Heather!” I hiss. “Shut up.”

She giggles. “Oh, come on, admit it. Your new stepfather is a DILF. And you haven’t seen him shirtless. He might not play professional hockey anymore, but he clearly channels the stress of being mayor into his fitness routine.”

Angela chimes in. “I agree. Scott Hunter is a catch, and every woman in town wishes she was your mom.”

We all stand up to watch the new Mr. and Mrs. Hunter walk down the aisle.

While the other guests are entertained with canapes and Champagne, the wedding party is summoned for some photos by the team of photographers Scott hired for today.

“Let’s do a few shots with the happy couple and the bridesmaids and groomsmen at their side.” The photographer instructs.

Some shots have all the girls by Mom’s side and the groomsmen—Ares, Chance, and Lev—by Scott’s side.

Another set of photos has us switching sides.

“Now let’s do some with just the bridesmaids and groomsmen, and after that, you guys can go. We’ll take a few more of the newlyweds and then we’ll set up to photograph the reception.”

Again, some photos see just the bridesmaids together; then it’s the groomsmen’s turn.

“Now, each bridesmaid stand next to a groomsman.”

A strong arm surrounds my waist.

I know it’s Chance from his clean scent. He smells like freshly washed linens and something more masculine and unique, probably his body wash.

“You look spectacular,” he whispers into my ear. “Before Lev gets to ask you, can you make sure you save me a dance?”

I smile, suppressing a small shudder at the way his warm, minty breath tickles the spot behind my ear. “Sure. And you look hot too.”

“Groomsmen,” the photographer says. “Stand behind your bridesmaid and surround her with your arms. Just like this. Perfect.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Chance whispers. “And Dad expects us to mingle with all the people he invited. But I was thinking, we could get together later? Just the two of us?”

I nod, missing his warmth when the photographer dismisses us.

Dinner is delicious and I’m at the wedding party table. Heather is holding court, telling me the gossip about all the people who have scored an invitation to the wedding reception of the year.

I don’t mind her chatter. After all, I live here now and in a small town like Star Cove, I’m probably bound to run into most of these people at some point.

“Family and friends,” Scott raises from his chair, tapping on his glass with a teaspoon to get everyone’s attention. “It’s usually custom for the best man to give a speech. And I’m sure my eldest son Ares is going to dazzle us all with his eloquence in just a minute.”

A snort comes from Heather. “Eloquence? He couldn’t have picked someone more quiet than you, A.” She chides.

“Pipe down, Heath.” Ares glares at her.

Scott gives a heartfelt speech about how he never thought he would find love again, after losing it once. He talks about how my mom is his kindred spirit, how they have a similar view of the world, and how that fact turned their attraction into something impossible to resist.

Once again, love shines in his eyes when he looks at my mom, and usually, I would be fawning over every word my new stepfather is saying.

When I was little, straight after my parents divorced, I used to hope that they would get back together. But those times are long gone. I had to learn the hard way, that being apart was what was best for my parents.

So I’m happy for my mom, truly.

However, no matter how hard I try to concentrate on Scott’s speech first, and on Ares’s straight after, my attention is elsewhere.

Words like family, commitment, union, go in one ear and out of the other, as my eyes keep landing on Angela and Lev.

Heather’s best friend keeps whispering into Lev’s ear.

My eyes narrow at the way she’s giggling and can’t keep her hands off of him. There's a few subtle touches; a hand on his biceps, playing with the cufflinks on Lev’s shirt, a squeeze to his shoulder as she leans closer to say something just for Lev’s benefit.

She’s flirting shamelessly and I don’t even realize how my hands are clenched into tight fists until my nails dig so hard into my palm that I almost draw blood.

Toward the end of Ares’s best man speech, I’m toying with the idea of stuffing a gigantic slice of wedding cake into Angela’s wide-set mouth to see if that will shut her up.

Jealousy is twisting my insides, and I have to remind myself that we’re at a party with the town’s most important people in attendance. There’s also the fact that Lev isn’t encouraging her in any way. He’s paying attention to the speeches, his green eyes meeting mine now and then.

But even if Lev was encouraging her, I have to remind myself that he isn’t my boyfriend and I have no right to expect him to ignore another woman’s attention.

It doesn’t matter that what happened last weekend in the outdoor shower with Lev and Chance has been playing in my head on repeat all week.

I heave a relieved sigh when the speeches are over and the bride and groom walk to the middle of the room for their first dance as husband and wife.

“Can I have that dance now?” Chance asks, offering me his hand.

I take it with a smile and let him lead me to the dance floor.

My relief is short-lived though, because Angela drags Lev to the other side of the room to dance to the slow song that apparently is my mom and Scott’s song.

Chance looks like he came straight out of a dream, or a rom-com.

The charcoal colored tux he’s wearing has been perfectly tailored to his tall, muscular frame; the cut of the jacket highlights his broad shoulders, strong chest, and his trim waist.

The bow tie and boutonniere match the “mystic lilac” color of my dress and make the ocean blue of his eyes pop in contrast.

I realize that I’ve been staring at them, my posture rigid in Chance’s arms.

“Angela has always had a crush on Lev.” Chance says after a few moments.

“Oh, I—” I don’t know what to say. I feel terrible that I’ve been ignoring him to stare at Lev.

“He doesn’t feel the same way,” Chance continues. “He never has. We’ve known Angela as long as we’ve known Heather, and you’d think that by now, she’d have gotten the hint that Lev isn’t interested.”

That makes me feel better, and I relax a little in his arms. I still feel guilty, though, for being distracted. “I’m sorry, it shouldn’t matter who Lev is dancing with, when I’m dancing with you.”

Chance’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Relax, baby. I get it. You like him too. Maybe I should have been happy that you thought they had a thing, but that isn’t how I plan to win you over.”

His words get my full attention. “Win me over?”

“I told you. It’s ok if you get to know him too. I’d rather you get him out of your system now. But I like you, Zara. I might be playing this game because Lev is my best friend, but I don’t share. And I’m going to make sure that when you make a choice, I’m going to be the last man standing.”

His confidence is sexy, and my curiosity is peaked. “Really? And how are you going to make me choose you?”

Chance lowers his head to whisper, his lips ghosting over the shell of my ear. “By making you come so many times, and so hard, that when you think about orgasms, you’re going to think about me and me only.”

Holy shit.

My nipples strain against the silk of my dress, and when he pulls me a little closer, so that our chests touch, I go willingly.

The contact with his warm chest sends sparks of heat straight between my thighs.

“I can’t wait to come to your room later tonight,” Chance continues. “I’m dying to know how it feels to be inside you, Zara.”

His words cause a full body reaction. I’m grateful for Chance’s strong arms, because my knees feel weak right now at the thought of how it would feel to have his strong body tangled with mine.

“Hey brother,” a voice cuts through the fog of my lust. “Do you mind if I cut in?” Ares is standing there, offering me his hand.

I feel Chance’s muscles tense up as he looks at his older brother for a long moment.

“You don’t have to ask me,” he finally drawls. “If Zara wants to dance with you, be my guest.”

Do I want to dance with him?

Ares looks like a magazine cover model in the same tailored suit all the groomsmen are wearing. The lilac accents of his bow tie and boutonniere reflect in the gray of his eyes, giving them a mysterious violet hue.

I can’t fight the magnetic attraction I feel toward my oldest stepbrother; he takes my breath away to the point that I don’t trust my own voice. All I can do is nod.

ARES

I’ve been thinking about Zara all week.

Between my shifts at work and my best man obligations, I’ve barely seen her since we talked last week in the garage.

But thoughts of Zara have filled my mind every waking moment. She’s been my first thought in the morning, and my last thought at night.

It isn’t just because she’s gorgeous. There’s something in her eyes, beyond her pretty smile, beyond the wild streak she tries to hide, that calls to me. I think she’s looking for something to complete her, something to make her feel whole. I can relate to that in more ways than one.

The second I see her in her bridesmaid dress, I know I need to get closer to her. I’m not as obvious as Chance and Lev, who have been buzzing around her since the second she came back into our lives.

I bide my time, focusing on my best man's duties, but I’m aware of Zara’s every move throughout the day. Every step, every smile, every single interaction.

My most important duty today is the best man’s speech; I’ve been working on it for the best part of a month, and anxiety has me in its grip until I’m done delivering it. If Atlas had been here, I’m sure Dad would have asked him to do it. He would have enjoyed it, too. He was as outgoing as I’m an introvert.

I watch Chance lead Zara to the dance floor after Dad and Kelly’s first dance.

One song passes, then two, then three.

My foot taps on the wooden floor of the room; I’m not following the beat of the slow songs the string quartet Dad hired is playing. I’m impatient as fuck, waiting for my little brother to let Zara go for one second, so I can ask her to dance.

But Chance not only keeps dancing with our new stepsister, he gets closer and closer to her with every song.

What the actual fuck?

He’s whispering something to her now, his mouth practically glued to her ear. There’s no room between their bodies, as they sway to the music, as if they were alone in the room. I’m sure people have gotten pregnant just by dancing that close.

I’m also not the only one who’s noticed.

Dad has been glancing their way while he’s dancing with his new wife. Lev has been shuffling closer and closer to them while dancing with Angela.

Heather is watching them too from her seat at my same table.

“You know,” she finally bites out. “Angie finally got Lev to dance with her and Chance has clearly decided to monopolize Zara. It looks like we’re the only members of the wedding party who aren’t dancing. I think you should be a gentleman and ask me?—”

Lev chooses that exact moment to ditch Angela, and he’s about to walk up to Zara and Chance.

If I don’t ask her now, I might not get to dance with her.

I shoot up from my chair, cutting Heather off.

“Hey!” she squeals. “I was talking to you!”

But I’m not even looking at her. I’m in the middle of the dance floor in a heartbeat, my hand extended to Zara in a silent offering.

Those two are so wrapped up in their little bubble that I have to clear my throat to finally get their attention.

“Hey brother, do you mind if I cut in?” I hope my hard stare conveys that I’m not really asking.

The little shit—he’s two inches taller than me, but whatever—levels me with a look that’s even harder than my own glare.

“You don’t have to ask me,” he drawls. “If Zara wants to dance with you, be my guest.”

I hate to admit that throwing the ball in Zara’s court is pretty smart. It’s obvious that if it was up to him, he would tell me to fuck off; but if it’s Zara who turns me down, he doesn’t have to look like an asshole.

We both look at our stepsister, waiting for her decision with matching tension in our shoulders.

Zara doesn’t answer Chance’s question with words. She nods.

Ha. Take that, Chance. I know full well that Zara welcomes my little brother’s attentions, but I know I haven’t imagined the way the air crackles with electricity every time she and I look at each other.

Chance whispers something into her ear before he steps back with another glare in my direction.

I’m not one hundred percent sure what he said to her. I think something like “see you later.”

Whatever.

I pull Zara into my arms just as the music changes to an even slower song, and the lights are dimmed now that a lot more people are dancing.

Neither of us says one word for a long moment. I wonder if she’s just basking in the feeling of being close to me, the same way I’m doing right now.

There’s no rhyme or reason to why having her in my arms feels so right, but it does.

I take advantage of the fact that she’s in my arms to look at her.

“You look beautiful.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about the consequences of uttering them.

I’ve never really been a relationship kind of guy; especially in the past two years, I’ve been so lost that even breathing felt like hard work.

I don’t know what I’m looking for right now, but the thing is, I think Zara is looking for something or someone, too. And every fiber of my being feels drawn to her in a way that makes me wonder if we might be on a similar trajectory.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You look handsome too.”

There’s another beat of silence. Thank fuck for the music, or this would have the potential to get awkward really fast.

Somehow, though, Zara doesn’t look uncomfortable in my arms. All I fucking know is that I like the feeling of her soft body next to mine a lot more than I would have any business to.

Two years ago, when I almost kissed her, I know she wanted me to.

I have to wonder for the second time this week if things have changed for her; they sure as fuck haven’t changed for me.

We’re in a room full of our family, friends and neighbors, though. I can’t just kiss her in front of everyone.

“How was your first week in town?”

Fuck me. I’ve also never been someone who knows how to make small talk, but I doubt I can just ask her if she wants to get out of here and get naked with me.

Just that thought has the effect of making my cock jolt to attention in my pants, and to make me laugh just as she answers my question.

“Busy. I went on a campus orientation tour and then there was unpacking and all the wedding stuff. Mom had a bachelorette high tea party, and as her maid of honor, I had to help with all the gift bags—I’m sorry, is it funny?” she asks, taken aback by my laughter.

Fuck. This is why I don’t date, I don’t flirt and I don’t fucking mingle. I suck at this. Usually it doesn’t take much more than a couple of looks and the offer to buy someone a drink to find a hookup—not that I’ve done that a lot lately—so this is uncharted territory.

“No, no. I’m sorry, it’s just… this whole thing, our parents marrying and you moving in, it’s surreal.”

“I know what you mean,” she says. “When Mom told me that she was getting married, and that she expected me to move in with her fiancé’s family, I was very worried. You can’t even imagine how relieved I was when I found out she was going to marry your dad.”

The way she says it makes me smile for the first time in a long while. “I was surprised too. After Bridgeport, I thought I was never going to see you again.”

Zara nods. “Me too. My relationship with Mom needs a lot of work. Things have been difficult for a long time between me and her. I’m hoping to mend things with her, and I’m glad I also don't have to worry about feeling unwelcome in a house full of strangers. I mean, I don’t really know your dad,” she says, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “And we don’t know each other that well, but we aren’t total strangers.”

Something in her tone, and in the look in her eyes, pulls at my heartstrings. “I know exactly what you mean, and you don’t need to worry, pretty girl. My brother and I have got your back. Lev too.”

That was the wrong thing to say, at least judging by the way her eyes darken.

“I know you do,” her voice is just above a whisper now. “You have been since the first time we met. I’ve experienced that very few times in life.”

Fury mounts in my chest at that thought. Who wouldn’t have Zara’s back?

The first time I saw her, I stepped in to protect her from her violent ex. I would have done that for anyone. I might not know Zara that well, but I have no doubt that I would protect her regardless of the threat. From anything or anyone who wanted to hurt her.

That realization hits me square in the chest. It’s the oddest feeling. I’ve been feeling empty since after the weekend Zara and I met. Right now, that feeling is almost gone.

I don’t know why she makes me feel this way. I don’t know if this feeling is even real, or if it’s lust in disguise. All I know is that I don’t want to let it slip through my fingers. I want to hold on to it for as long as I can. I’ve been desperate to feel anything other than the hopeless emptiness the loss of Atlas has left in its wake.

“Zara,” I whisper. “Princess, I hope you know you can always come to me. No matter what, I’ll always have your back.”

“Really?” There’s pain in her voice. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

“How could you ever think that?” I ask, surprised.

Her voice sounds like she’s about to break. “That night, when you walked me back to my room, you said…”

Ah, that.

We’re in a dark corner of the dance floor. If I kissed her now, no one would see us. “Princess, I wanted to kiss you so badly. But remember how we met? I thought the confrontation with your ex, and what happened at that beach party, were a lot to deal with. I didn’t want you to kiss me back just because you were overwhelmed or confused.”

“I would have kissed you back because I wanted to, Ares.”

Fuck. The way she says it, the way she looks at me.

My hands leave her waist, coming up to cup her delicate jaw. Zara is temptation personified with her dark hair up, exposing the column of her neck, and her pink lips looking as soft as a cloud. I don’t even know where I want to kiss her first.

I could start with her lips and then let my mouth glide down her neck. That’s a good plan.

“Ares, Zara.” Dad’s voice pulls me out of my lust induced daze. “Here you are. I’ve been looking for the two of you everywhere. It’s time to cut the cake, and we want all our kids in the photos.”

The moment is gone, as we follow Dad to the table where an elegant four tier cake is waiting to be cut.

I realize I’m still holding Zara’s hand when Chance pulls her by his side, an annoyed look on his face.

My brother isn’t the only one who looks less than pleased, however.

Dad is looking at us with a look on his face that’s far from the happy one he’s had all day.