“Including yours?”
“He’s my stepbrother.”My arms wrap around my midsection before I register the defensive posture.
“What did he do to you?”He bends his knees, putting his face level with mine.
“Exactly what he’ll do toyouif you continue down this path.”I spot the pack of smokes peeking from his coat pocket and swipe them, seeking a distraction.
Before I pull one free, he snatches the pack from my hand.
“Clear something up for me.”He tucks the cigarettes in his back pocket.
I brace for the question I will never answer.
“Are you a smoker?”He tilts his head.“Or am I a bad influence?”
Relief loosens my breath, and a smile touches his sculpted lips.
He’s letting me off the hook.For now.
“Both.”I smile back.
The cold, damp air sticks to our coats as he leads me around the corner.The next thing I know, we’re standing before the fogged glass doors of a local diner, the kind that smells like hash browns and burnt coffee no matter the hour.
“This is what you wanted to show me?”I follow him inside, the dining room half-full of locals hunched over plates and mugs.
“No.”He slides into a booth and waves down the server.“First, I want to feed you.”
As I start to sit opposite him, he grabs my hand and pulls me down to his side.
“Two mugs of coffee.”He wraps an arm around my waist, tugs me until our hips press together, and smiles at the older woman.“Two cheeseburgers, extra pickles, curly fries, and a slice of blueberry pie, warmed.One fork.”He angles that sexy grin toward me.“Anything else?”
“Are the pickles negotiable?”I shrug off my jacket.
“Not tonight.”He raises a brow, daring me to fight him over it.
No way in hell.
The coffee arrives first, thick and bitter.I drown mine in cream while he takes his black, one hand wrapped around the chipped mug, the other resting casually near the napkin dispenser.He’s more relaxed now.The kind of relaxed that comes after a knife fight.
“So.”I twist toward him.“Tell me more about your day with Jag.”
He leans back, stretching his legs beneath the table.“If you can call that a day.It was more like ten hours of psychological warfare with a side of needlework.”
“What did he say to you?”
He shrugs.“Talked about you mostly.About your shared trauma.”He twirls a sugar packet between his fingers.“He knows how to weaponize eye contact.The way he stares without blinking, with his mouth all soft and parted just right…” He shakes his head.“He makes everything feel sexual.”
“That’s part of the act.”I sip my coffee, wishing it was spiked.“He makes you feel significant and beautiful.Convinces you that he wants you and no one else in the world.Then he takes everything you offer and uses it to destroy you.”
“Is that what he did to you?”
“Worse.”
“Did you…?”He rolls his lips together.“Have you and he…?”
“I’ve never had sex with my stepbrother.”
His lashes flicker once, too fast, registering his shock.He looks away.“He said Gavin was a mistake.”
