Chapter 6 - My Body Is a Traitor

Wes

Annie makes a strangled noise and slaps both hands over her eyes.

“I’m sorry! Jesus Christ, I’m sorry!”

I grab the nearest article of clothing and pull it across my lap, although the damage is already done. My brand-new stepsister has just walked into my bedroom and caught me in a situation I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

Actually, scratch that. I’d absolutely wish this on my worst enemy.

Unfortunately, at the moment, Annie Fletcher is making a pretty strong case for that position.

“Get out!”

“I’m trying!” She turns toward the door, nearly trips over her own feet, and catches herself against the frame. “I thought I heard you call me!”

“Why the hell would I call you?”

“I DON’T KNOW, WES! That’s generally why people ask questions!”

I stare at her.

She stares at the wall, still shielding her eyes with one hand.

This cannot be happening.

Five minutes ago, I was having a perfectly good night. Rox had gone to bed feeling better, I’d told her I loved her, and I’d been thinking about the woman I couldn’t wait to finally hold in my arms.

Now I’m sitting here with my dignity somewhere beneath the fucking floorboards.

“My door was closed,” I snap.

“Actually, it wasn’t.”

“What?”

“It was open. Just a few inches, but definitely open.”

I glance toward the hallway.

Son of a bitch.

I must not have pushed it shut properly when I came upstairs. The stupid thing has a habit of catching against the frame unless I give it an extra shove.

“That doesn’t mean you can walk in!”

“I knocked!”

“I didn’t hear you!”

“Well, clearly you were busy!”

My jaw clenches.

Annie finally lowers her hand enough to glare in my general direction, carefully keeping her gaze above my shoulders. Her cheeks are bright pink, and a few strands of that ridiculous ginger hair have escaped the messy knot on top of her head.

“I heard someone say something that sounded like my name,” she explains. “Then I thought I heard ‘come here.’ I figured somebody needed something.”

My stomach drops.

Rox.

Fuck.

I said Rox’s name out loud.

For one terrifying second, I wonder exactly how much Annie heard. Then I remember she has no idea who Rox is. As far as she’s concerned, I’m just some asshole mumbling to himself in his bedroom.

“Nobody called you,” I say.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that.”

“Then leave.”

“Gladly.”

She starts backing toward the door, then pauses with her hand on the frame.

“And maybe next time you have a date with your palm, you should make sure the door is actually shut.”

I blink.

Did she seriously just say that?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Get. Out.”

“I’m going!”

She takes another step backward, catches her heel against the leg of a small table, and sends the decorative bowl sitting on top of it rattling.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Her phone slips out of her hand and hits the floor.

We both look down.

For one blessed second, I think she’s going to leave it there and run.

Instead, she bends to retrieve it.

Her oversized T-shirt rides up, revealing a narrow strip of skin above the waistband of her black leggings.

And a tattoo.

Just a glimpse of one.

A delicate curve of dark ink disappears beneath the fabric at her right hip, positioned farther back than I would have expected. I can’t make out what it is, only that the design continues somewhere beneath her clothes.

My attention catches on it before I can stop myself.

What the hell is that?

A flower? A crescent moon? Some kind of elaborate vine?

She straightens, tugging her shirt down without seeming to notice.

“Sorry about the bowl,” she mutters, checking her phone for damage. “And the whole… other thing.”

“Just go, Annie.”

She looks at me, and for a moment, her embarrassment gives way to irritation.

“You know, most people would accept an apology instead of acting like someone committed a felony.”

“Most people don’t walk into other people’s bedrooms without permission.”

“Most people close their doors when they’re doing private things!”

We glare at each other.

Then she throws up her free hand.

“Whatever. Goodnight, Wes. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She disappears into the hallway.

A second later, I hear her mutter, “Unbelievable.”

The door shuts.

This time, all the way.

I stare at it.

Then I tip my head back against the chair and close my eyes.

“Fuck.”

Of all the people in this enormous goddamn house, it had to be her. The woman who apparently considers sarcasm an Olympic sport.

A date with your palm.

Jesus Christ. I’m never going to hear the end of that.

I should be furious, and I am, but when I close my eyes again, the image that comes back isn’t Annie standing in my doorway.

It’s Annie bending over to pick up her phone.

That little glimpse of black ink above her waistband, sitting right at the curve of her hip. The way her leggings hugged her round ass, and how the tattoo seemed to disappear around the back of it.

What the hell was that design?

I find myself wanting to know how far it extends, what it looks like in its entirety.

Then I shift in my chair and realize my body has taken an entirely inappropriate interest in answering those questions.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

I look down. My cock is hard again.

Seriously?

Five minutes ago, I was thinking about Rox. Now my body is apparently responding to the memory of my stepsister bending over.

Absolutely fucking not.

I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend I love. One I’m finally going to meet in person, and I’m not about to start fantasizing about the daughter of the woman who married my father.

Especially when that daughter has spent the last two days getting on my last nerve.

I get to my feet and head straight for the bathroom.

Annie Fletcher is a gold digger’s daughter who now occupies a bedroom in my mother’s house. Pamela is already rearranging furniture and making herself comfortable, and Annie came along as part of the package.

I don’t trust either of them.

And I certainly don’t need to know what kind of tattoo Annie has on her ass.

I reach into the shower and turn the cold water on.

Very cold.

Good.

Maybe it’ll knock some sense into me.

My phone sits on the bathroom counter, and I pick it up before stepping beneath the spray.

The last conversation with Rox is still on the screen.

Rox: I love you too. Thank you for making tonight better.

My expression softens.

There she is.

My girl.

I scroll back through our messages, smiling despite the disaster that just unfolded. I can practically hear her laughing at my stupid jokes.

She’s nervous about meeting me.

Hell, I’m nervous about meeting her.

I’ve never been this invested in someone I haven’t even seen. But the more I get to know Rox, the less any of that matters.

I love the way she challenges me when we’re gaming. I love how she gets distracted halfway through telling a story and somehow ends up on a completely different subject. I love that she can make me laugh after the worst day imaginable.

And I love that she trusts me enough to tell me when she’s hurting.

Tonight, somebody made her feel terrible.

She didn’t tell me exactly what happened, and I didn’t push. I wish I knew who upset her, though, because whoever it was deserves to be told what an asshole they are.

I stare at the screen for another moment.

Then I set the phone down.

“Get your shit together, Hargrove.”

I step beneath the cold water.

“FUCK!”

Holy shit, that’s cold.

I brace both hands against the tile, gritting my teeth while the water pounds against my shoulders.

Good.

I deserve this.

I have a girlfriend I love, and I’m not about to let one awkward encounter with my stepsister turn me into some kind of disloyal prick.

Annie can keep her attitude, her sarcastic comments, and whatever mysterious tattoo she’s hiding beneath those leggings.

I don’t need to know what it is.

I don’t want to know what it is.

I stand beneath the freezing spray for another thirty seconds.

Then I mutter, “It’s probably a fucking butterfly.”

Which is an incredibly stupid thing to say, considering I have absolutely no evidence to support that theory.

I shut off the water, grab a towel, and decide that tomorrow, I’m installing a deadbolt on my bedroom door.

Because if Annie Fletcher ever catches me in another situation like that, I’m moving to another fucking continent.

I’m halfway through pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants when my phone vibrates on the bathroom counter.

Rox.

I smile and pick it up, expecting another goodnight message.

Rox: BABY. OH MY GOD.

Rox: YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

Me: I thought you were going to sleep, beautiful.

Rox: I WAS TRYING TO.

Rox: BUT I GOT HUNGRY.

Me: Did you find something to eat?

Rox: NO. AND NOW I’VE LOST MY APPETITE.

I chuckle, shaking my head.

Me: What happened?

Rox: I JUST WALKED IN ON MY FUCKING STEPBROTHER.

My smile fades.

That’s… unfortunate.

Especially considering what happened to me a few minutes ago.

Me: Walked in on him doing what?

Rox: HAVING A DATE WITH HIS PALM.

I stop breathing.

My eyes move over the words again.

A date with his palm.

I can still hear Annie saying those exact words while standing in my bedroom doorway.

No fucking way.

Me: Seriously?

Rox: YES. AND HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO GET MAD AT ME.

Me: How did you end up in his room?

Rox: I THOUGHT I HEARD SOMEONE CALL ME.

Rox: HIS DOOR WAS OPEN AND I KNOCKED.

Rox: HE DIDN’T ANSWER SO I WENT IN.

My stomach drops.

I look toward the bedroom door.

The one Annie just walked through.

The one I apparently didn’t close properly.

Me: That’s one hell of a misunderstanding.

Rox: UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY.

Rox: I THINK I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYEBALLS.

I should laugh.

Normally, I would.

But all I can think about is Annie standing in my doorway, shouting at me to close the fucking door.

Me: Are you okay, sweetheart?

Rox: I’M FINE.

Rox: JUST TRAUMATIZED.

Rox: AND STILL FUCKING HUNGRY.

Me: Then go get something to eat.

Rox: I WILL.

Rox: I JUST HAD TO TELL YOU BECAUSE HOLY FUCK.

Me: I’m glad you told me.

Rox: LOVE YOU, BABY.

Me: Love you too, beautiful.

Rox: GOODNIGHT. FOR REAL THIS TIME.

Me: Goodnight, Rox.

I stare at the screen long after the conversation ends.

My girlfriend just walked in on her stepbrother having a private moment.

My stepsister just walked in on me having a private moment.

Both of them thought they heard someone calling them.

Both of them found an open bedroom door.

And both of them used the exact same ridiculous phrase to describe what happened.

I slowly lower myself onto the edge of the bed.

The dinner.

The way Annie looked when I accused her mother of being a gold digger.

Rox telling me she’d had a horrible night.

The sarcasm. The attitude. The way both of them can turn absolutely anything into an argument.

My eyes drift toward the hallway.

No. It can’t be.

Except I know exactly what I said while I was alone in my room.

Rox.

And Annie heard it.

I look down at my phone, at the last message from the woman I’ve been in love with for six months.

Then I look toward the door again.

“Holy fucking shit.”

Annie is Rox.