Her Wicked Stepbrother: A Nolan Bastards Novella Read online

  She handled the grocery shopping and the laundry, and at least once a week, she tidied up the house, dusted and ran the vacuum. On the weekends, she cleaned the pool and weeded the flowerbeds while her dad mowed the lawn. Every morning, she started her dad’s coffee brewing and every evening, she made dinner.

  But she’d never cooked for six people before and she had no clue how much she should make. Come to think on it, she had no idea what they even liked to eat.

  Before she could overthink it, she decided their first homecooked meal in their new country should be something classically American. But pizza delivery didn’t seem to fit the occasion, so she opted instead for burgers and hot dogs, which meant she needed to make a quick run to the store at the end of their street.

  She visited the small store often, even more so recently, since her dad had given her a credit card to use whenever she bought groceries or other household items, and she didn’t mind the short walk. From the end of their driveway, it took her only nine hundred and eighty-eight steps to reach the store’s front door.

  Brynn often counted her steps and by now had designed all her most frequent trips so that she arrived at her destination on an even number, unlike the day her mom stopped coming home when she’d counted her steps for the first time and stepped through the front door of her school on an odd number. One-thousand, seven hundred and forty-three, to be exact.

  When she returned home, she set to work readying heaping bowls of potato salad and baked beans. Fearing it wouldn’t be enough, she tossed together a massive fruit salad and boiled several ears of corn on the cob. In the freezer, she’d stashed a gallon of marble fudge ice cream for emergencies and mixed a pan of brownies to go with it for dessert later.

  Before she’d had a chance to arrange the dining table, Rory and Cian appeared from their bedroom, drawn by the aromas. They hovered over her as she pulled the pan of brownies from the oven and plucked choice wedges of potato from the bowl, wolfing them down before she could hand either of them a fork.

  To keep their fingers occupied and out of the food, she started passing them dishes and condiments to deliver to the table. By the time they’d finished laying out the feast, Brynn’s dad and Siobhan had wandered inside from the back deck where they’d been talking and swaying on the old porch swing.

  “Rory, go tell Aiden supper’s ready, will ye?” Siobhan settled into the chair Brynn’s dad had pulled out for her.

  With a scowl, Rory shoved the serving spoon piled high with potato salad back into the bowl and pushed up from the table.

  “Brynn, you made all this?” Siobhan seemed genuinely impressed, and a bloom of pleasure sprouted in Brynn’s chest. “Everything looks—”

  “Aiden, c’mon an’ eat now!” Rory hollered from the top of the basement stairs.

  Returning to his seat, Rory reclaimed the abandoned spoon and plopped a heavy glob of potato salad onto his plate.

  When everyone had filled their plates, Brynn lifted her fork from the table, but before she could scoop up her first bite of fruit salad, Siobhan, Cian, and Rory bent their heads and simultaneously tapped their foreheads, sternums, and both of their shoulders. Then Rory muttered something about the Lord and blessings before wrapping up with a resolute “Amen,” which Cian and Siobhan promptly repeated.

  Then they ate.

  Cautiously, Brynn raised the fork to her lips and bit into a sweet, ripe melon. When Aiden quietly emerged from the basement, she forgot to chew while he rounded the dining table and eased into the only remaining chair, across from her.

  Warm brown eyes landed on her face for the briefest of moments before sweeping over the tabletop.

  His mouth pulled down at the corners.

  A ripple of uncertainty disturbed her. With a painful gulp, she swallowed. Had she made too much? Not enough? Didn’t he like hamburgers? Or potato salad? Or chips or beans or store-bought bread? They were European, for crying out loud, not heathens accustomed to a crappy American diet. What had she been thinking?

  She braced for his cruel comment.

  He gaped at her. “Ye made all dis?”

  Her throat tight, she nodded.

  “Why?”

  When she considered how pathetic the real answer sounded, she shrugged and stabbed a hunk of cantaloupe. “I was hungry,” she mumbled.

  Siobhan shot Aiden a pointed look. “Why don’t ye just eat it.” She offered Brynn a warm smile. “It’s delicious.”

  “Wait ’til you try her baking,” her dad said with a wink.

  The delicate bloom of Brynn’s pleasure wilted when Cian’s menacing scowl reappeared, aimed, once again, at her dad.

  Ignorant of the daggers being flung at him, her dad wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  A light danced in his eyes when he regarded Siobhan. “Shall we tell them?”

  “Tell us what?” Cian delivered each word with a stinging bite.

  Siobhan pulled her gaze from Brynn’s dad. “We’re getting married.”

  “Yeah.” Straightening, Rory leaned back in his chair. “We know.”

  “We’re getting married next month,” Siobhan said.

  A blanket of displeasure stole over the boys.

  “Ye said ye were goin’ ta wait.” Cian spoke through clenched teeth. “Dat’s what ye told us.”

  “We were going to wait,” Brynn’s dad jumped in. “But after looking into it, we decided we want to get married before Aiden turns eighteen.”

  Alarm stole across Aiden’s features. “What’s dat got ta do wit anyting?”

  “As long as your mother and I marry before your eighteenth birthdays, you’ll be granted US citizenship.”

  Rory shifted uneasily in his chair. “We won’t be able to go back home? To Ireland?”

  “Of course ye will,” Siobhan said softly. “You’ll have dual citizenship. That way, ye can travel to both countries anytime ye like, as often as ye like.”

  “Ye do not have to do dat.” Aiden’s face had drained of color. He jabbed his fork in Siobhan’s direction. “Yer marrying her. Not us.”

  “He wants to do it.” Siobhan squeezed Brynn’s dad’s hand. “So we can be a family.”

  “That’s how family works.” Her dad’s voice roughened. “At least, that’s how this family is going to work. We take care of each other. We protect one another. No matter what.”

  Brynn had never heard her dad say such things before, and a jolt of alarm knocked into her.

  Then the shadows swept suddenly from his expression. “Besides, I want you to be able to visit your mother anytime you like.”

  “What if ye get a divorce?” Cian challenged.

  Rory elbowed him.

  “No matter what happens between your mother and me, your citizenship status won’t change. Unless you choose to change it, I suppose, and go through the legal hoops to do so, you’ll remain citizens as long as you wish to be. The same way you’ll be my sons,” he said, the weight of the words lowering his voice, “unless or until you wish it otherwise.”

  Brynn watched varying degrees of shock and unease, along with an abundance of confusion, play across her stepbrother’s features.

  Though the frown remained on his face, Aiden dipped his head toward her dad.

  Her heart jumped, as thrilled by the warm moment between he and her dad as she was by the sound of his deep voice when he said, “Tank ye.”

  The turn of events seemed to make the boys hungry, and the soft clash and clatter of utensils against dinner plates was the only sound in the room as they proceeded to consume more food than Brynn had imagined was possible to do in one sitting.

  Right about the time she began to worry she hadn’t made enough, Cian bounded up from the table. Shoveling the last bites of a burger into his mouth, Rory followed Cian into the kitchen. They dumped their empty plates beside the kitchen sink, then filed back to the table.

  “Night, Ma.” Cian dropped a kiss on the crown of Siobhan’s head, then veered toward the front door.

  “You bo
ys be smart.” Siobhan lifted her chin, and Rory’s kiss landed on her cheek. “Use those big brains I’ve given ye.”

  The pair disappeared through the front door.

  Dumbfounded, Brynn gaped at Siobhan. Wasn’t she going to ask them where they were going? Or tell them what time to be home?

  Apparently not, as Brynn’s dad had already recaptured her attention. As dinner progressed, Siobhan’s gaze kept returning to Brynn’s dad, who eagerly anticipated every glance and stolen glimpse like a puppy awaiting his treat. The looks they exchanged communicated much without a single spoken word.

  Brynn pretended not to notice. She stared at her plate and at the view of the pool through the patio doors. When she risked another glance at her dad and soon-to-be-stepmom, her dad was leaning in for a kiss... His mouth opened slightly…

  Brynn jerked her head away.

  Her gaze collided with golden brown eyes.

  The smile playing on Aiden’s lips matched the teasing light in his dark eyes.

  With a soft sigh, Siobhan pushed up from her chair. “I’m going to go lie down. The jet lag has hit me hard.”

  Brynn perked up. She hadn’t had a moment alone with her dad since yesterday, before they left for the airport. Maybe they could watch a movie together? She’d even let him pick and wouldn’t complain when he chose one of those boring old war movies.

  Just as she opened her mouth to suggest it, her dad placed his napkin on the table and stood.

  “I think I’ll join you,” he said. “I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and could use a good night’s rest.”

  Brynn swallowed back her disappointment. Guess her dad wouldn’t be helping clear the table and clean the kitchen, a task they’d done together every other evening.

  On the stairs, her dad caught up with Siobhan. His hand found her hip, and Siobhan’s giggle ricocheted down the stairwell. Footsteps sounded overhead, and then the bedroom door closed with a resounding bang.

  Her mind followed them a moment longer and, mildly repulsed, she scrunched her nose.

  Aiden’s low laugh rolled across the table.

  Then he resumed his meal. He didn’t rush to eat, or do the polite thing and ignore her existence. He looked right at her when his lips parted and a potato wedge disappeared inside his mouth. Slowly, he chewed. His throat worked when he swallowed.

  Like the night before, she flushed with warmth. It was as though his heat stretched across the table to lick her skin. Her heart pounded in her ears, and no matter how hard she tried not to look at him, her gaze kept wandering back to his face.

  Upstairs, soft bumps and the faint sounds reached them through the floorboards.

  One of his dark eyebrows quirked, just a hint of playfulness that coaxed a giggle from her.

  He continued to eat without conversing while she pushed the last bites of food around on her plate, unable to fit them into her stomach with the butterflies banging against her insides.

  When he’d emptied his plate, he rose slowly to his feet. He piled their parents’ plates on top of his and carried the stack into the kitchen. At the sink, he ran water over the stack and loaded them one by one into the dishwasher while Brynn cleared the rest of the food from the table and packed the few remaining leftovers into containers.

  When he’d eased the dishwasher door shut, he filched a dishtowel off the counter and dried his hands.

  His gaze collided with hers. “Tank ye for dinner,” he said softly, and she decided she adored the way he never made the th sound, pronouncing words like thank and this as tank and dis.

  Turning, he crossed to the basement stairs and slipped through the door, thus ending their first meal together as a family.

  * * *

  By the third week living with her new family, Brynn was thoroughly unsettled.

  Stupidly, she’d assumed her stepmother would want to take over some, if not all, of the housework, but as it turned out, Brynn couldn’t have been more wrong. Since arriving, Siobhan hadn’t visited the grocery store once, and given the fact the boys ate like an army, Brynn had had to make several emergency trips to restock the cupboards. Neither had Siobhan done a single load of laundry or prepared even one meal, unless the few slices of buttered toast she made for herself each morning counted.

  Indeed, Brynn’s stepmother didn’t seem all that interested in cooking or cleaning.

  Or parenting, really.

  Brynn’s stepbrothers came and went as they pleased, often going out after dinner and not returning home until some unknown hour in the middle of the night. Even Rory, who was three years younger than Brynn, had stayed out well past midnight on several occasions. About that, Siobhan had little to say.

  Nor did she utter a word when all three boys slept past noon, only to lounge by the pool or laze in front of the TV playing video games all afternoon.

  With her sons either absent or asleep, Siobhan seemed to care only about spending time with Brynn’s dad, and Brynn’s dad seemed to care only about spending time with his soon-to-be wife.

  No one cared to spend time with Brynn.

  On the upside, there wasn’t a lot of housework for Brynn to do. Her stepbrothers didn’t own a lot of stuff, so they didn’t leave a lot of clutter lying around, and they appeared not to want her touching their dirty laundry, as they took care of that task themselves. And while they happily devoured any food she set in front of them, they didn’t seem to expect her to cook for them, a theory she decided to test that evening.

  Rather than rush indoors to begin dinner preparations, she rolled over onto her stomach on the sun-warmed beach towel.

  Beside her, Molly propped on her elbows to peer across the patio where Rory and Cian kicked a soccer ball back and forth.

  “I still can’t believe your dad is getting remarried,” she said.

  Molly lived only a few houses away, and although she attended an all-girls private school across town while Brynn went to the local public school, they’d been best friends since kindergarten and often spent their summers hanging out at Brynn’s pool or at the country club where Molly’s family were members.

  “So?” Molly said. “What are they like?”

  Countless descriptors rushed to Brynn’s lips—grouchy, scowly, hard, naked!—but not one could she share with her friend. How did she explain that she’d lived in this house all her life and never once had it felt small or cramped, until now? That, though her stepbrothers were barely ever at home, she felt suffocated by their presence?

  Because to admit that, Brynn would also have to confess her suspicion that if Aiden were the only newcomer in her home, she’d feel the same unnerving confinement.

  “I don’t know.” Brynn rested her cheek on her forearm and frowned. “They’re weird.”

  Molly shielded her eyes from the sun. “Really? Like how?”

  “I don’t know. They’re boys.”

  “Yeah, boys are weird.” Molly’s gaze followed Aiden as he crossed the patio and, stepping onto the lawn, intercepted the ball Rory had booted to Cian. “They sure are cute though.”

  Squinting against the bright sun, Brynn followed her friend’s gaze. “You think?”

  “Hell yeah. You probably can’t see it because they’re your brothers, but they’re freaking hot.”

  “They are not my brothers.” Brynn couldn’t suppress the denial.

  Molly flicked her wrist. “Well, they basically are.”

  Later that week, Brynn and Molly had reclaimed their spots by the pool. The scents of chlorine and fresh-cut grass teased Brynn’s nostrils, and the warm sun baked her skin, lulling her into drowsy apathy, when a soft, high-pitched sound disturbed her relaxation.

  “Omigod,” Molly hissed. “He won’t stop staring at me.”

  “What?” Brynn lifted her head off the beach towel. “Who?”

  But Brynn didn’t need to wait for Molly’s answer. Across the patio, beneath the shade of a maple tree, Aiden reclined in a lounge chair. Despite the book lying open in his lap, his gaze traveled acros
s the sparkling pool and fixated on them. The hard scowl Brynn had grown accustomed to was stamped on his striking features.

  “I think he likes me.” Molly flipped her dark hair over one shoulder and adjusted her bikini top, a move obviously intended for Aiden’s eyes. “Do you think he likes me?”

  A pang struck Brynn beneath the breastbone. “I don’t know…”

  Molly lifted her face to the sun and arched her back, pretending not to notice Aiden while at the same time posing for him.

  Brynn’s head bobbed as she looked from her friend to Aiden and back.

  Her stomach twisted with knots. Heat rushed to the surface of her skin, though not in the same pleasant way it did when she was the focus of Aiden’s gaze. Furious warmth lashed her sensitive skin, and her heart beat so rapidly she feared it might burst.

  She was jealous. Painfully, shamefully jealous. The envy as green as the emerald jewel-tone color of her bikini.

  Unable to bear the fire of her envy, she clambered to her feet. The concrete patio burned the soles of her bare feet as she crossed to the edge of the pool and, without breaking stride, dove headfirst into the cool water.

  The shock of cold rushed over her. Beneath the surface, she pushed through the waves, holding her breath as long as possible before kicking to the surface. When she emerged gulping for air, Aiden was walking across the patio toward the house.

  She swam to the ladder and climbed out of the pool, but as she wrung the moisture from her long hair, a shiver of awareness prickled over her skin.

  When she looked up, golden brown eyes ensnared her.

  He’d paused at the patio door, one foot inside the house, and she froze, gripped by the fierce intensity of his gaze as it inched ever so slowly over her body.

  Everywhere his eyes touched, her body reacted. She became hot and shivery at once. Her nipples hardened, and she knew without looking that they’d be visible beneath the wet, clinging fabric of her bikini top. The urge to conceal herself existed alongside the wanton desire to do something—anything—to maintain possession of his hungry gaze.