Page 14 of Stepbrothers

“Have a good day, sis.” Parker nodded to the left. “And stand up to that asshole boss, otherwise I’ll put him in his place.”

And with that, he turned and walked from the café, his long strides making short work of the small space.

The four other customers in the queue all watched him leave with varying degrees of amusement and shock in their expressions.

What the fuck just happened?

Had Parker Talbot really just sidled into her life and started calling the shots, making her feel like a little girl, a little sister?Hislittle sister?

It seemed he had and he wasn’t afraid to own that fact.

The rest of Clarice’s day was shitty. A busy morning, crazy lunchtime rush, then a few hours’ respite in the afternoon before a renewed craving for caffeine hit King’s Cross.

By the time she staggered into her flat her feet ached, her ears rang from the constant clanging, banging, grinding, and tapping of the coffee machine, and her stomach was rumbling. There was no way she had the energy to go out for a drink with Sharon and Wendy. So she dropped them a message to say she’d see them soon.

After battling a bout of coughing, she searched for food. The refrigerator offered little in the way of dinner, but at least there was a Pot Noodle in the cupboard, chow mein, so she flicked on the kettle, then stripped and jumped through a cold shower.

Wearing an old pair of red pajamas covered in Christmas candy canes, she tipped boiling water onto the noodles, then flopped in front of the TV. Roll on the weekend, and she could dress up, down several cocktails, then find a hot fuck to take her mind off life.

Oh no. Not this weekend. The summer’s biggest wedding was taking place, and she was a goddamn bridesmaid—for the fourth time. What did they say? Three times a bridesmaid never a bride. Four must really be a nail in that coffin. Which suited her. Clarice had no intention of getting married. One guy forever. She’d be bored stiff. Hell, she’d rather drown in treacle.

Knock. Knock.

Clarice frowned. Who was that? She never got out-of-the-blue visitors.

Setting her finished Pot Noodle to one side, she stood, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth.

She trotted down the stairs to the door that led to the street and peered through the peephole. Her breath caught in her throat. On the other side was Hugh. And unlike the other day when he’d been in casual clothes, now he was in a fireman’s uniform, or at least that’s what it looked like.

“Er, hello,” she said and opened the door a crack.

“Can I come in?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see where my sister lives.”

“I’m a stepsister, okay, it’s not like we actually share blood.”

“Maybe not, but you’re part of the family, and I want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I was doing okay before my mother decided to marry your father. There’s no reason for that to have changed.”

“Let me in.” He held up his hand. A clothes hanger was hooked over his middle finger. Beneath it, purple material protected by clear plastic. “I got your dress. For the wedding. It seemed you couldn’t be bothered to collect it.”

“Oh shit, I forgot again. Yes. Come in.” She opened the door.

“I suppose,” he said, coming into the hall and filling the space. “Everyone’s version of doing okay is different, right?”

“I’ve got a home and a job and friends.” Her nerves spiked. He had a bloody cheek coming here and judging her.

“I’m pleased to hear it.” He frowned at her pajamas. “Candy canes in June?”

“They’re comfy.” She gestured to his tight navy-blue t-shirt that had LFB written on the front in small white letters, and his dark thick trousers and heavy-duty boots. “You come straight from work?”

“Via the bridal gown shop, yeah. Busy day.”

“You better come up then.” She turned and headed up the stairs.

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