Hard Fought (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel)(17)

"You know, we were never that big on holidays," I explain.

"Gotcha. So, you have to tell me more about Paris. Bree and I visited, but we were just at the hospital the whole time. You were working for a start-up, is that right?"

"Umm..." I pause, unsure if I want to continue in my lie. My father already knows, and though it seems like he didn't share the information, it seems silly not to tell the truth now. "No...that was...I was hoping to, but it didn't work out. I ended up working in a bakery."

"Feel like whipping up a loaf?" she asks with a smile, and I laugh.

"Honestly, never again."

How did my father manage to snag this woman? I wonder as she tells me more about her diner. She seems sweet, down-to-earth, and smart. I follow her gaze as she looks toward the doorway leading to the front of the house. Carter is standing there in a white tank top and jeans. My hormones surge forward, and I push them down through sheer force of will.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Anne greets her oldest. "Look at your haircut! You look so different! Coffee's fresh. And Ray told me that he worked out an arrangement with you two! I mean, it just sounds so convenient, doesn't it?"

"Mmhm," I answer, taking a sip of coffee to avoid having to expand on my response.

"I think he's being silly with all this security. But I do wonder if Bree and Carter both getting hurt had more of an effect on him than he's letting on. The fragility of life, and that sort of thing."

"Bree got hurt?" I ask.

"Yeah, she tripped while she was out on a jog and hit her head. She was concussed and had to get stitches."

"That must have been tough on you."

"It was," Anne replies, pausing her movements for a second. "I still think your father is overreacting, though I do appreciate the sentiment."

Sentiment. Not something I've ever thought of my father having before. Though if what Anne says about his motivations is accurate, maybe I judged him a bit harshly. It's just that nothing about our history together has shown him to be anything other than a massive control freak.

"Need any help?" Carter asks his mom in his low, throaty voice.

"No, you just sit and enjoy your coffee."

Carter glances at the counter stool next to me and slowly walks over and sits. I deliberately don't look at him. There's silence for a moment as we sip our coffees and Anne continues chopping.

"So, what are you making today?" I finally ask. Anne describes the various dishes and I make her promise to let me know if she needs any help. Unfortunately, our respite only lasts a little while longer, as Anne slips a casserole dish in the oven and announces she's going to go work out in the gym while it cooks. As soon as she's safely in the foyer, I stand up and walk to the back door.

"Going back to the boat house?" Carter asks as I put my hand on the knob.

"I like your mom, and I want her to have a nice Thanksgiving. But I'm not going to pretend when she's not around," I say flatly.

"Pretend?"

"That I'm happy about this new arrangement. I think you and my dad are birds of the same feather."

"We're nothing alike," he replies, his jaw clenching.

"Really? You both like to be in control. You let me help you until you decided I got too close. And now you're asking me for my whereabouts."

"I'm supposed to protect you."

"Or control me. Either way, don't expect me to make it easy for you," I say with a smile.





Chapter Twelve



I pull off my jeans and pull on a pair of cotton pajama pants. Jeans at a Thanksgiving meal are never a good choice, and it turns out that Anne is an excellent cook so I ate even more than I thought was possible. I also fervently wish that I hadn't decided to give up alcohol, because having to spend that much time pretending that everything is swell would have been much easier with a few glasses of wine in me.

Not that everything was bad. I like Anne, and Bree, too, though she's still rather shy around me. Every now and then she'll say something with an undertone of mischievousness that makes me think there's more to her than meets the eye.

I hear a yell and a splash and freeze for a moment in the middle of my room, then hurry over to the window. The floodlights on the back of the house illuminate two figures in the pool, but they're moving around and I can't figure out who they are. I dash across my room and fly down the steps, then sprint over the grass as the two men surface and I finally recognize them. The security men run out from the house just as I dive into the pool. The cold shocks me for a moment, but I kick hard even as my clothing pulls me back.

I surface behind Carter and jump on his back, flinging my arms around his neck. "It's Jack!" I yell in his ear. "My brother!" He stops mid-lunge and over his shoulder, I see Jack shaking the water from his eyes to see who just tackled him. "Hi, Jack," I say, arms still around Carter. It's too deep for me to stand here anyway.