Stepbrother Untouchable(35)

“I can tell by that expression on your face that you want to talk,” he begins. I smile slightly, he knows me well. “But the stuff with my parents—it's off-limits, OK?”

But I need to tell him that those things Pierce said aren't true. “Just—”

“No, Brynn. I really want us to be able to keep hanging out. But if you keep bringing it up…”

I sigh. “Fine. I won't say anything. In exchange, though…” I walk to the wide bookcases full of DVD options.

“No romantic comedies!”

“Big Fish,” I say, pulling out the case.

“Is that a romantic comedy?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Well, not really. There is romance in it, but it's more about a family,” I explain, careful not to mention the predominant father-son themes. “Hey, friendships have to have some compromise,” I add with a smile.

“OK, fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. He takes a handful of popcorn and leans against one end of the couch as I pop the DVD in. As I make myself comfortable on the other end, he pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and arranges it over my feet, because he knows that they get cold.

I feel a pang in my chest at the small gesture, but try to push it away. He's not being romantic, just thoughtful. I look up at the large TV screen as the picture comes up. I feel more comfortable around Nate than I do with anyone else in my life right now, so I have to settle for being friends with him. Otherwise I could lose him altogether.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN





“You and Nate head down there so we don't lose the reservation!” my mom instructs me. She planned a family outing to go rafting on the Potomac, but Pierce is stuck at the office in meetings, even though it's a Saturday. “I'll swing by and get him and meet you there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, he said he'd only be a little longer,” she assures me.

“OK,” I reply with a shrug, and walk into the anteroom off the kitchen where Nate is slipping on his sneakers.

“My mom says they're going to meet us there,” I tell him.

“Fuck it, let’s make tracks, Sis.” he smirks.

And off we go in his Wrangler, Nate blasting some god-awful metal music.

“How do you listen to this shit? It sounds like two cat’s screwing in a trashcan.” I shake my head.

“What? This is Slayer, they’re classic trash metal, you have to have respect.” He says reverently. “I always listen to Reign in Blood before all of my games.”

“Lovely.” I screw my face up in mock horror.

He turns it up louder, nodding his head enthusiastically as the guitar riffs collide into what I assume is his favorite part of the song. It’s strange to see him let loose like this, and even though I think his taste in music is horrifying, I have to admit I like to see him enjoying himself.

Thankfully, the boathouse is just a little ways down the Potomac in the direction of the city, and I’m only subjected to Slayer for a few more minutes. The temperature on this August day is in the mid-nineties, but my mom was insistent upon doing a family activity outdoors. As we take a left on the dirt road with an old sign pointing the way, I spot an empty parking lot, and figure most people are wisely staying inside with their air-conditioning today.

After we park, Nate heads over to the wood-slatted structure to secure the boat, and I take the sunscreen out of my bag. As Nate walks back over, he smiles as he sees me struggling to smear it in between the straps of my sports bra.

“Want some help?' he asks.

“…Sure,” I reply, though I'm anything but. The idea of Nate's hands on me, when I know nothing else is going to happen, sounds like torture. I might actually prefer getting a first-degree sunburn, but he's already taken the bottle from me and squeezing some of it out into his palm.

“Um, just pull the back of your shirt up,” he instructs me. I do as he says, pulling it up to my hairline. I feel his greased-up hands slipping under the straps of my bra, and am glad he can't see the blush that immediately spreads across my face. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my raging hormones at bay, as his fingers slide around the side of my ribcage.

“Now you do me,” he says, as I release my shirt.

“That's what she said,” I mutter.

“Ha!” Nate barks, a short, joyful shout of laughter. “I didn’t know you were funny Brynn,” he says, grinning wide at me.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I say, daring to meet his gaze for a brief moment.

I clear my throat and take the bottle of sunscreen from him, willing myself to keep my thoughts clean. He pauses, then turns around and pulls off his shirt. I groan inwardly at the sight of his wide, muscular back.