Page 3 of Dean Daddy

“I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that the pay increase had nothing to do with it.”

“You would be correct,” he agrees, confirming my suspicion that he would do anything for something or someone that he cared about.

If It wasn’t for the fact that I have to remind myself not to stick my tongue out and pant when I look at him, talking to him would be natural and easy. I imagine that he’s very intimidating to most people with his confident tone and physical appearance, but he strikes me as the strong, sensitive type. He’s forceful but caring, if that makes any sense at all.

The tiny restaurant is packed for lunch and the only open table is outside on the patio, which is fine with me. The combined chatter of diners and noise from the kitchen would have made it impossible for us to continue our conversation inside.

It’s a warm autumn day and the sun feels good on my face, so I settle into my seat and begin reading the menu that the waitress left for us.

“Are you excited to begin the next stage of your life?” Mason asks.

“A little terrified but it feels good to finally be back home.”

“I’m sure it’s good to see your friends again. Your boyfriend must have missed you terribly. Or, did you leave a trail of broken hearts in England when you left?”

His question stuns me because I’ve never been accused of being a heartbreaker. I’m way too introverted for that.

“I haven’t seen any of my friends since high school graduation. I was planning to take a trip back to my hometown over the next break. It’s hard because my mom moved to be with your dad, so I’ll have to split my time between her and my old friends,” I explain.

“And the boyfriend?” he presses me.

“I don’t have one. And no, I didn’t break any hearts in England, either.”

He smiles at me and for a split second, I wonder if he might be flirting with me, but I never trust my instincts on that kind of thing. Besides, he’s far too hot to be interested in someone like me.

“How about you, big brother?” His eyes widen and he recoils, as if I stabbed him in the chest when I said it, so I quickly apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright. Just… Just don’t call me that. That’s not the way that I want you to see me,” he explains.

If he was anyone else, I might have just nodded my head and changed the subject, but I have a feeling I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I don’t ask. “How do you want me to see you?”

He reaches across the table and places his hand on mine and says, “Like someone you could get to know more intimately than that.”

My face goes flush and my pulse quickens. Did he say intimate? Does he mean someone that I can tell my deepest, darkest thoughts or someone that I sleep with? The idea leaves me consumed by a mind-shattering mix of shame and desire.

I know that he should be off-limits because he’s my boss and my stepbrother, but how could anyone expect me to resist a man like this? I’m sure my mother would but then, she expects me to resist all men until I marry one by osmosis and somehow give her grandchildren without ever having sex. I need to know what he’s thinking but I can’t seem to come up with the right words, so I just look down at his hand like an idiot and hope that he’ll clarify things without my asking.

“Marcie? Are you in shock?” he teases me.

“No, I just don’t want to misinterpret anything,” I mumble.

“Then let me be clear for you. You and I aren’t brother and sister. We didn’t grow up together in the same house. There’s no family bond between us. You’re a beautiful stranger that I just met today, and I don’t think that we’re required to treat each other differently because our parents met each other first,” he tells me but that’s still not clear enough for me. I’d prefer it if he just spelled out his intentions.

“So,” I take a deep breath and just blurt it out. “Did you want to, like, date me or something?”

He squeezes my hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing it.

“Yes, sweet girl. I want to date you…or something.”

3

CLAIMING MARCIE

MASON

The longer I talk to Marcie, the easier it is to reconcile any guilt that I may be feeling for wanting to pursue my new stepsister. She’s sweet, innocent, smart, and sexy and that’s a combination that you don’t see every day.

It’s like the universe dropped the perfect female specimen in my lap but slapped a “Don’t touch” sticker on her forehead. Thankfully, I don’t take orders from anyone and telling me that I can’t have something just makes me want it more. She calls me big brother and even though I hear the hint of sarcasm in her tone, I have to make it clear to her that I don’t want to be her brother. AT ALL.

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