Page 11 of Stepbrothers

“It sounds like you should.” Parker rubbed his index finger on his lips. “That can’t be healthy for you, living like that.”

Clarice watched his movements. His lips were full and soft. She wondered how he kissed.

Stop it! You’ll never know. You can’t kiss him.

“I keep telling her,” Jenny said. “A new place to live, a new career, a nice boyfriend, it’s not that hard to do.”

Clarice frowned. How come her life had been the only topic of conversation since she’d sat down? Not only that, all the raw bare bones of her life, picked over and scattered.

She set back her shoulders and raised her chin. She didn’t have much, she knew that. But she did have her dignity and a lovely rosy glow from the multiple orgasms she’d had the night before with Scott…or was it Sean?

Chapter Three

“Skinny latte to go.”

“Name?”

“Beth.”

“Coming right up.” Clarice rang up the till then turned to make the coffee. Her mind and body were on automatic. It was seven-thirty in the morning, and she was still thinking of her warm bed.

She completed the order then moved her attention to the next customer, pushing the named cup forward. “Can I help you?”

“Cappuccino, no chocolate.”

“Name?”

“Tara.”

“Coming right up.” She quickly made the frothy drink, then sprinkled it with chocolate. Perhaps she’d give Sharon and Wendy a call later, see if they fancied a drink that evening. She had lots of news.

“What the fuck are you doing, stupid cow.” Derek snatched the chocolate shaker from her. “She said she no chocolate.”

“Shit, sorry.” Clarice shook her head.

“You’re really fucking dumb, you know that?” He threw the drink down the sink, sending coffee spray everywhere that would need wiping up later. “Make it again. And be sharp, there’s a queue, or hadn’t you noticed? And stop writing names on the cups when there’s only you working the machine and serving.”

“It’s a habit.” She sighed and restarted the drink. If Derek helped there wouldn’t be such a queue, but he never did. He preferred to sit in the back office doing paperwork—which meant watching porn on his phone.

“Sorry about the wait.” She handed the drink over.

“No worries.” The girl gave a sympathetic smile.

Which was sweet in itself, but it made Clarice want to bang her head against the wall. Why did she put up with Derek’s bullshit? It was caustic and wrapped each day in a layer of sharp sandpaper. She shouldn’t be such a pushover, she knew that, but lacked the energy to fight it.

“Next,” she called.

“Espresso.”

“Name.” She was still on automatic.

“Parker.”

Parker? She looked up into the same dark eyes she’d seen for the first time only two days before at Balthazar. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi, sis.” He didn’t smile. Instead, his attention went to Derek who appeared to be making himself a drink loaded with marshmallows.

“What…what are you doing here?” She’d been right. Parker wore a suit well, though this wasn’t pinstripe, it was pale blue and fit him to perfection. Tailor-made on Savile Row, she’d bet money on it. He was clean-shaven, and she got a whiff of his aftershave, something expensive and musky that did funny things to her nipples as though the scent was designed to tighten them.

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