Page 22 of Hey, Stepbro

Son of a bitch. Something bubbles up in my chest, something that feels a whole lot like desire. I want to kiss him so badly. On the fucking lips, and then on the neck, then on the abs and then...

Brock is wearing a button-down shirt, and the top few buttons have been unbuttoned, giving me a glimpse of his muscular chest. The thoughts that swirl through my mind are ridiculous.

I can't do this shit. He's my fucking stepbrother, and besides, I refuse to be his experiment.

"So, uh," Brock says. "Maybe we should move to the kennels."

"Yeah," I gulp. Shit, was I staring? I totally spaced out there. "Okay."

It's not long before the animal adoption event startsand we're surrounded by people. Everyone in the damn neighborhood showed up, which should make me ecstatic.

I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. Maybe it's because I really don't want to let any of these animals who I've bonded with go.

Or maybe it's because I'm anxious about being alone with Brock.

The dogs are all cute. If I were to adopt one, I guess I'd like a little one the best. Maybe one of those crazy ass Dachshunds who drove me nuts last week. They're kind of like mini puppies. I guess I'm a sucker for cute things, even if it means I'd have to hide treats.

"I want this one," I say, holding the little black Dachshund girl puppy that kissed me last week. "Would your dad kill me if I brought it home?"

Brock grins. "You want to adopt a puppy?"

I nod. "Yeah. It's fine, right?"

I know damn well my father wouldn't be a fan. He loves animals, but sadly, he's allergic. We had a cat before Mom passed away, but it was hypoallergenic, and he had to get shots to keep it in the house.

"It's more than all right, dude," Brock says. "It's awesome."

"Okay." I set the puppy down. "I'll fill out the paperwork," I joke.

Brock fixes me with a glare. "You'd better not."

"Try to stop me."

"I can't let you do this. You seem like the type who won't stop at one. You'll take ten home."

"Ten?" I scoff. "Bro, I'll take all of them."

Did I just "bro" him? Oh God, I'm flustered.

"Even the ducklings?" Brock goads.

"Most certainly the ducklings," I say, walking to a duckling enclosure and patting one's head. "I'd be a monster to leave these cuties here alone. They deserve a safe house."

"I'm pretty sure your new puppy will eat them."

We walk around the shelter, checking out all the other pets. I see a kitten that reminds me of Zipper, my old cat, and I have to hold back tears.

"What's wrong?" Brock asks.

"Nothing," I say.

"I don't believe you."

I look at Brock. "I'm thinking about my old cat," I admit. "I miss him."

"It’s tough getting attached," Brock says. "Because it's harder when they cross the rainbow bridge."

"Easier said than done."

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