“But I wanna hear the story,” she cried, digging her feet into the carpet for resistance against my pull.
Paxton’s face lit up with a huge, crooked smile.
My heart froze for a second. Gone was the icy, stoic demeanor and in its place beamed a blast of pure warmth and happiness.
“How about after I get settled, some night this week I’ll read it to you at bedtime, okay?” His voice, still low, held a gentle cadence, not the restrained growl he’d used with me.
“Yes.” Lana jumped up and down, gave a quick twirl, then pointed at me. “Can Terri listen too?”
I groaned. “No way, I’m not—”
“No.” His tone turned cold once more. “Because it’s only for people who believe in fairies, in magic.”
“Oh, I believe in fairies,” Lana said, nodding her head so fast her hair flew with the movement.
“Great.” His voice switched to that soft, low pitch that sent strange tingles across my skin. Still smiling, he cut his gaze from Lana’s to mine, as if daring…or expecting me to argue.
“Come on, let’s go.” Ruthlessly, I dragged Lana out of the room, eager to get away from those blue eyes that made my stomach flip in a pleasant tumble.
As soon as I’d cleared the threshold, the door slammed behind me, and that jolt of excitement slowly turned to a smoldering fire.
“What a jerk,” I mumbled.
“I think he’s nice. I have a brother who’s going to read me bedtime stories.”
“Uh, I can read bedtime stories to you, and I’m yourrealfamily.”
Lana shrugged, then skipped down the hall to her room.
Fuming, I turned to Paxton’s door and ga ve it a good kick, then stalked toward my bedroom, ripping out the ridiculous bow and trampling it under the thick carpet of the hallway.
First thing I’m doing is getting out of this hideous dress.
I could only pray he’d forget he’d called me Cotton Candy.
Chapter five
Paxton Ross
Terri.Just thinking her name sent my head into a whirl. Her sharp eyes seemed to see into every thought I’d ever had, yet she dressed like a five-year-old child. Surely she didn’t enjoy looking like an expensive doll.
How old is she, anyway? Fifteen, sixteen?Her smooth skin had beckoned my fingers to reach out and test its texture, and her dark, curly mess of hair had begged me to wrap my fingers around her skull to find out if it was as soft as it looked. She’d worried her bottom lip between her small teeth, calling attention to how lush and full her mouth seemed.
Need to stop thinking about her. She’s supposed to be my foster sister.I nearly choked on this thought.They can’t seriously expect me to just blend into the family with the snap of a finger, can they?
Lana pulled me down the stairs, leading me to the dining room.
“Every night, at six o’clock, we have family dinner.” The little girl walked with a spring in her step, and I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s usually the only time we get together, but Daddy insists we sit around the table and talk about boring stuff for at least an hour so he can make sure we’re doing what we’re supposed to.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I couldn’t remember ever having a sit-down meal with my own family, and over the past year, my version of dinner was a wrapped burger from McDonald’s. Or if Dad had squandered his most recent royalty deposit on drugs, I’d wait until dark, then rummage in the alley behind local restaurants, hoping to find something to tide us over for the night.
As we approached the giant dining area, I paused at the entryway.
Hanging above a long, mahogany table, a crystal chandelier dominated the room, its light throwing prisms across cream-colored wallpaper with small monochrome drawings of leaves and branches.
Ugliest wallpaper I’ve ever seen.
Mr. Kingston, seated at the head of the table, smiled easily. “Paxton.” He motioned to an empty chair beside him. “I hope you’re settling in well?”
