Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)(14)

"When's he coming back?"

"From his game? Friday, I guess. He'll probably shack up with some girl after the game."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He really gets around, but if there is one thing I'm proud of in life, it's that he never leads them on. I saw him start down that road in high school, and I made him see how unfair it was."

"You talk like you're the older one."

"I think that if it was our father who died it would have been different, but since it was our mom, I was the one who stepped forward, you know? Like you with Bree."

"What do you mean?" he asks, turning slightly.

"Stay still. You're pretty protective of her."

"Well..."

"Oh, come on. Own up to it."

"I get worried because I'm away so much," he finally grumbles. "I mean, she's so unaware of...you know..."

"The fact that she's beautiful?"

"Exactly. But it doesn't mean men are."

"I bet she'll be fine. She seems like a little spitfire."

"She doesn't take any shit, that's for sure," he says with a proud smile. I pause, stepping back and brushing the shorn hairs off his shoulders and trying not to notice the electricity that runs through my fingertips.

"There. What do you think?"

He tilts his head forward and runs his palm across the top. "Good. I guess I should get this off now," he says, tugging at his beard. I nod, leaving him to it. As I walk back into his bedroom, I spot his bags lying on the ground. My Type-A instincts take over, and I reach inside. The bureau drawers are almost completely empty, and I unpack his clothes in a way that makes sense to me, trying not to think too much about the fact that I'm handling his boxers. At the bottom of his first duffle, I take out a rolled up old t-shirt and shake it out to refold it more neatly. Something falls from it onto the plush white carpeting.

I bend down to pick it up, not noticing that the sound of the beard trimmer has stopped. I turn the object over in my hand. It's a small medal, with a purple ribbon at the top and a man's face in the heart shaped gold below it. The Purple Heart. It must be.

"What do you think?" Carter asks from the bathroom doorway. I grip my hand around the medal, suddenly feeling like I'm intruding. As I glance up, though, my mouth drops open. Without the long hair and beard hiding his features, Carter's looks are absolutely devastating.

"I...yep. Uh-huh. Good," I stammer. He gives me an odd look, then glances down at the empty suitcase on the floor.

"You didn't have to do that," he says, walking over.

"I just thought I'd help," I say with a shrug, so distracted by his pillowy lips that I forget I'm supposed to be hiding something in my hand.

"What's that?" he asks with a frown, glancing at the flash of metal in my palm.

"Oh, I...I was just unpacking, and—"

"I didn't ask you to," he says, his voice suddenly quiet. He reaches out and snatches the medal from my hand.

"I know, but—" I break off as he pulls open a drawer and throws the medal inside. "Be careful!" I cry out instinctively.

His eyes narrow as he turns on me. "The fuck do you care?"

"I—it just seems like a shame...I don't know," I stammer.

"You're right. You don't. You have no idea. I think you should leave," he says, nodding to the door.

"I didn't mean to intrude," I whisper.

"Get out!" he yells, his neck muscles bunching in anger.

I shrink back and hurry toward the door, blinking my eyes quickly to hold back the tears.





Chapter Ten



It's not like he didn't warn me, I think to myself as I splash cold water on my face. I mean, it's been obvious since we met that he's not available and he clearly doesn't want anyone to get close to him. And I suppose I pushed him too far. Or maybe I'm blaming myself too much...I was just trying to be helpful. He really did behave like an ass.

My cell phone rings and I glance over at it on the counter next to the sink. My dad. I sigh, considering just ignoring it, but my dad never takes no for an answer.

"Hi, Dad," I say as I pick it up.

"Come to my study, please," he says, never one for small talk. "Now."

"I'm—" I start to reply, but he's already hung up. I grit my teeth, but grab a towel and dry off the last drops of water on my face. I head back down the steps of the boat house and cut straight across the yard to his office. I can see him sitting behind his desk, looking at something on his computer, so I knock. He hits a button by his computer that buzzes me in, and then nods at a chair as I enter.

"Sit." I frown in response to his high-handed order, and there's a knock at the door to the main house's hallway. "Come in!" he calls. Carter walks in, shutting the door behind him. He glances at me, and I quickly turn back to my father, wondering why in the hell we're here. "Please, take a seat, both of you," my father says, more solicitously. I choose to obey this time, and keep my gaze straight forward, ignoring Carter as much as possible after his outburst earlier.