Page 99 of Stepbrothers

Parker lifted a trifle from the refrigerator. “I’m gonna have some of this. Anyone else?”

“So you’re all just playing happy totally dysfunctional families here?” Trig stared at each of them in turn. “Right?”

“What’s your problem?” Hugh said. “It’s not like we’re actually brothers and sister. It’s not like we’re blood related or not able to consent.”

“It’s just…”

“What?” Parker said, stabbing the film over the trifle with a knife and then tearing at it.

“It’s just what the hell are you going to tell Dad and Jenny?”

“We’re not.” Clarice spoke at the same time as Hugh and Parker.

“At least not yet,” Parker said.

“Or ever,” Hugh added.

“Without wishing to put a downer on the fairy tale wedding, my mother does go through husbands.” Clarice shrugged. “We might not be stepsiblings for long.”

“I don’t want our father hurt.” Trig swiped a set of keys from the counter. “I’m going over there…now.”

“What? Why?” Clarice asked.

“To do what?” Parker stepped in front of Trig and blocked his way. He puffed up his chest.

Hugh scowled. “We’ll tell them, Trig, if we decide to.”

“I’m not telling them anything. I’m absolutely not getting involved in this.” Trig waved his arm in the air. “I’ll go and stay there so you don’t have to disrupt your sleeping arrangements on my behalf.” He paused. “Get out of my way, Parker.”

Parker didn’t move. “I mean it. This isn’t your secret to tell.”

“No. It isn’t. And I don’t want to tell it.” Trig raised his eyebrows at Clarice.

For the first time, she saw something other than shock and frustration. She saw emotion. It shadowed his eyes and tugged his mouth downward.

Heat shot through her torso to her pussy. The way he was looking at her. The deep timbre of his voice. It brought that crazy night back to her, and she recalled him sliding his thumb into her ass as she’d climaxed. A wickedly delicious addition to their fucking that had had the neighbors calling hotel security if she remembered correctly.

“I’ll see you all around.” Trig stepped past Parker and marched across the apartment. A few seconds later, the door slammed.

“That went well.” Hugh sighed. “Not.”

“Of all the bloody luck.” She sat on one of the bar stools, drink in front of her. “Of all the guys to…”

“To pick up for a shag,” Parker finished for her.

“That was the old me.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’ve changed.”

“Just as well,” Hugh said, sitting beside her. “He’s right, you were putting yourself in all kinds of danger.”

She sipped on her wine and then flicked her finger between them all. “Is anyone ever going to have a good reaction to our relationship?”

“Only people who are open-minded.” Parker ladled trifle into a bowl—a colorful, sloppy, sweet mess. The cutlery drawer rattled as he grabbed a spoon. “Which not many people are.”

She sighed. “I’m exhausted.”

“You want some trifle?” Parker asked.

“No. I want to go and lie down, read my book, escape all this chaos for a while.”

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