For my summer vacation, I had planned to book a flight to Egypt. I’ve always wanted to see the pyramids. Instead, I bought myself a car – nothing flashy because I don’t want to draw attention to myself – and I’m driving to the neighboring state to stay with a family of near-strangers.
I was an orphan. Now I have a dad and a stepmom. Oh, and four stepbrothers. They’re my age, apparently. I’ve also been told that I’ve seen them when they played football at Eastern last semester and lost. There’s no way I’d recognize them out of their helmets and pads, though. My dad was there that day too. He’s the coach of the team at Lawson, one of Eastern’s biggest rivals.
Four stepbrother ballers.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy watching sports as much as the next girl. I’ll admit that my interest has less to do with the ins and outs of the game itself and more to do with the fine specimens who are playing. There’s just something about powerfully strong men dressed in ridiculously tight pants that sets my heart aflutter. And other things too. It’s the other things that I’m most interested in.
And ballers do know how to keep a girl happy. There’s a lot that can be said for high levels of fitness; muscles, stamina, and the overwhelming testosterone that comes with working out and the excitement of competition. A girl can lap that shit right up. Well, after the game. They never want to give up their mojo before, although tempting them can be very amusing.
Anyway, I’ve got more serious matters on my mind.
This is a summer to find out about the half of me that I thought was always going to remain a mystery. The half of me that set me so apart from my blonde-haired, green-eyed mother.
The drive takes six hours, enough time to work my way through two fast-food drive-thrus and numerous country albums. When I arrive, the knot in my stomach takes me by surprise. It’s a nice house in a nice neighborhood. It’s a place I would have been happy to grow up.
I pull up outside and take a deep breath.
I can do this. It’s not for long.
I have to do this. I know how regret feels. I don’t need any more of it.
I pick up my cell phone and dial Maisie.
‘I’m here,’ I tell her.
‘That was quick.’
‘I didn’t stop for long.’
‘Are you okay? You feeling alright about doing this?’ There’s that worry in her voice. The same old worry that was there when I told her about that first meeting with my dad.
‘I don’t know. No…and yes.’
‘Just go into it with the same humor and flare you go into everything,’ she says. ‘You know what to do.’
I smile at my bestie’s words, always so good at knowing what to say. She says the same about me, so I guess that makes us a great team. ‘You mean sass my way in there,’ I laugh. ‘I’m not sure my usual way of talking will go down that well.’
‘Just be yourself,’ she says. ‘It’ll all be fine. And you can come back if it doesn’t work out.’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I’ve got this.’ Strong words from someone feeling close to driving away.
‘You have. Good luck, sweetie, and let me know what happens. I want all the gossip daily. And try and find out some Lawson football tactical secrets that I can feed to my boys.’
‘You want me to sabotage my dad’s team?’ I ask, laughing. “Not sure that’s how to approach relationship building.”
‘Your loyalties are with Eastern,’ she says. ‘I don’t need my boys on any more of a downer. We need to win.’
‘You really are starting to sound like a player’s wife,’ I say.
‘Not wife yet…but I agree with the sentiment.’
We say our goodbyes, and I take another deep breath, glancing up at the house. There are three upstairs windows facing front, and I wonder if anyone is up there looking down at me. If there is, I really shouldn’t be sitting out here like a wallflower. This isn’t like me at all.
Maisie’s right. I need to get my groove back, pull up my panties, and sass on in there.
So that’s what I do. I take hold of my purse, pull my suitcase from the trunk, and stride up to the front door, shaking my hips as I go. The wind ruffles my dark curls and flutters the dress I thought would make a good impression. My heart skitters the closer I get to stepping into this new life, knowing that once I’m in, I’m in. There won’t be any going back. Not without consequences. The saying goes that ignorance is bliss, and at this moment, I agree. Not knowing my dad had become easy over the years. I stopped wondering about him except fleetingly on my birthday. I stopped expecting him ever to show up. Now that I’ve met him, I won’t ever be able to forget his face or his height. I won’t be able to forget all the ways we’re the same.
I don’t get a chance to knock. The door swings open, and I’m faced not with the man who was my effectively just my sperm provider but instead with a man who looks like he has a whole lot of sperm to provide to the whole neighborhood.
Damn.
This man, who must be one of my stepbrothers, looks me over like a piece of prime rib, his eyes hungrier than a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. ‘You must be Sara,’ he says.
‘Must I be?’ I raise an eyebrow, scanning a face that is way too gorgeous to be legal; gray eyes, slightly crooked nose that gives him that perfect rough and ready vibe, and an arm covered in a beautiful tattoo sleeve. He’s wearing a baseball cap and a varsity t-shirt that is hugging everything that he’s got going on underneath. And wow…there’s a whole lot going on. A whole lot.
If I’d met this guy in a bar, we’d be exchanging bodily fluids right now. I’d be sitting on his knee, copping a feel of his bulging pecs and rippling abs, wriggling enough to get him hard against my ass. He’d have his tongue in my mouth, with a promise of finding more sensitive places later when we’re alone.
Instead, I’m standing on the step of my father’s house, waiting to be let in by Mr. Sex On Legs.
‘Damn, you look like Steve.’ He shakes his head, reaching out to touch my hair as though he has every right to lay his hands on me.
‘Err, don’t touch,’ I say.
Behind this man appears another face just like his. Twins.
‘Brayson, what are you doing out here? Ah…’
His gray eyes settle on me too, realization passing across his face.
‘Our guest is here,’ Brayson says.
‘And you’re leaving her standing on the doorstep?’
‘While he fondles my hair,’ I add.
The second guy’s eyes sparkle with amusement. ‘Excuse my brother. He has no idea how to behave.’
‘Says the man who threw up in my truck last night.’ Another face appears over Brayson’s shoulder. A different face this time, with a nose that has definitely been broken, and brown eyes like liquid chocolate. He runs his hand over his short-cropped hair, which looks a whole lot like brown velvet and regards me with interest.
‘Someone spiked my drink,’ Brayson’s twin says. ‘Why are you being a douche about it, Carson?’
So Carson’s the one whose head I want to stroke, or maybe have him rub his soft hair over my nipples.
A carbon copy of Carson, except with slightly longer hair and a straighter nose, appears. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, I’m trying to get in to see my dad, and these guys are blocking the door and staring at me.’
A slow smile spreads over his gorgeous face. ‘Well, I can see why they’re staring. Come on, assholes. Get out the way and let this poor girl inside. Has no one ever told you how to greet guests?’
‘Fuck off, Anderson,’ Brayson says. He takes a step back, nudging his brothers out of the way. ‘Come in.’ He ushers me forward, and as I lift my suitcase, Carson reaches out to grab the handle to help me. I’m not usually the kind of girl who expects men to do things for me. I’m used to handling things by myself, but this time I let him take it.
‘Is she here?’ a voice says from down the hall. The huddle of boys parts, and I see Steve making his way down the hallway. He looks tired, his skin purplish beneath his eyes. I paint on a bright smile.
‘I made it.’
‘You made good time. Did you speed all the way?’
I shake my head, taking another step inside. ‘Nah. I was a law-abiding citizen.’
Steve smiles, and his blue eyes are as warm and bright as the sky on a summer day. ‘Now, why don’t I believe that.’
I glance at the boys, who are watching our exchange with interest. Is it weird for them to see us together this way? I guess it must be. For all the intrigue that I’ve had in meeting my dad, they must have shared the same in finding out about me.
It doesn’t feel right to kiss Steve or hug him. We don’t know each other well enough for that.
Anderson closes the door behind me, and we all stand for a moment until another face appears behind Steve.
‘Sara!’ She comes forward and pulls me into a warm hug. This must be Amber, Steve’s wife, and mother to these giant boys. How she managed to bring them all into the world, I will never know. She’s tiny and blonde and too insubstantial to be a mother to such big sons. ‘We’re so happy you’re here.’ She pats my shoulder, then draws back, holding my upper arms and looking me over. ‘Wow. You really are the spit of your father.’
There are smiles all round, and an awkwardness that is only to be expected. ‘Shall we show the poor girl to her room and get her some refreshments?’ Steve says.
‘On it.’ Carson starts toward the stairs, lifting my suitcase as though it’s filled with goose down, not the monstrous number of outfits that I packed for this trip. I follow, and so do the rest of the boys.
I don’t think I imagine the feeling of eyes on my ass as I ascend behind Carson. My dress is a little on the short side, and they probably have a great view of my thighs. The material is also a little diaphanous so it doesn’t leave much about the proportions of my butt to the imagination.
Other than visits from Grandpa Jackson, and the odd boyfriend who came and went in my mom’s life, I didn’t grow up with men about the house. This is going to be a whole new and interesting experience.
Steve’s house is nice; modern fixtures and fittings and plenty of homely touches. There are photos of the boys spreading up the stairs, from cute baby pictures to recent shots on the field. It’s a real family place filled with warmth and belonging.
And here I am.
A fish out of water.
A cuckoo in the nest.
The odd one out.
Except, I’m not. I have as much right to be here as any of these boys. They might be over six foot and take up around eight times as much space as I do, but they’ve no more claim to his home than I do. They’ve just had their feet under the table longer. Well, I guess things are going to be different now. At least, that’s how I intend it to be.
I remember how it was for Maisie when she moved in with her stepbrothers. They teased her relentlessly until she turned the tables and made them see exactly what they were missing.
Will it be like that for me too? I can’t wait to find out.
