two
Lucy
My stepbrother.Luke is my new stepbrother.
My cheeks color with irritation when I see the flash of anger in his blue eyes that were just warm and inviting like napalm pools. Now, they’re like shards of glass that could cut me. He's looking at me like he somehow thinks this is all my fault. What? Did he think I knew he was my new stepbrother?
Moreover, I'm not the one who was shamelessly flirting with me. He is. He's the one who came on to me.
I barely hear what my mom is chattering on about.
“Don’t you think, Lucy?’
Her question gets my attention.
“What?” I ask her.
Luke blinks and frowns at my mom too.
“Isn’t it great that Luke owns his own tattoo parlor?” Mom beams at Luke proudly like he's the son she always wishes she had.
My eyes flick down to his big, strong-looking hands, and I can see the tattoos decorating his knuckles. I bet the hard slabs of muscle under his tuxedo are covered in tats too. Are both of his arms tattered, or does he just have one sleeve?
I purse my lips together, irritated that I even want to know. He’s my stepbrother. I don't care how many tats cover his body or what they look like. I certainly don't want to trace my fingers over each one of them.
He must misinterpret my pursed lips and narrowed gaze as disapproval because he crosses his arms and smirks down at me. “I imagine an aspiring teacher isn't into tattoos much. Am I right?”
He raises a mocking eyebrow at me, and my hand twitches with the urge to slap that smug look off his face. If he only knew I'd gone through my own rebellious stage when I was a teenager.
Well, technically I'm still a teenager, but I'm on the cusp of official adulthood. I’m almost twenty.
Anyway, it would really shock him to know that I have a small tattoo no one knows about. Not even my mom, but that’s none of his business, and I'm certainly not going to be telling him that. Because why the hell do I care what he thinks?
I don't take the time to correct him. Instead, I give my mom a warm hug and tell her again how happy I am for her. And I really am. I'm happy that she finally fell in love again. My mom deserves it. She's an amazing woman, and even though Luke seems like an ass now that he knows there's no chance of getting in my pants, his dad, Jeff Callahan, seems like a decent guy and he's head over heels for my mom, which is all I can ask of my future stepdad.
“Have you met Noah and Charlie yet?” My mom points across the room to two other hulking men. They're almost as big as Luke, but whereas Luke has dark hair, one of them has sandy brown hair, and the other looks like a Herculean god with his blond hair.
Sweet baby Jesus. What is it with the Callahan men? All three of my stepbrothers look like they belong on the cover of romance novels. Jeff’s not so bad looking himself, but he's nothing like his boys.
I shake my head at my mom and smile at her apologetically. “No, but I'm afraid it's going to have to wait till another time, Mom. I've got a paper I need to finish writing.”
It’s a lie. I already wrote the damn paper, but I don't want to be subjected to my other two stepbrothers right now. If their disposition is as sunny as Luke’s, I certainly don't want to meet them yet. I'm sure I'll meet them soon enough anyway.
“Oh,” my mom pouts. “Are you sure, honey? You work so hard.” She gives me a warm smile that lets me know she's proud of me.
My mom has always been my biggest cheerleader, and my chest swells with love as I hug her again. As much as I don't want to even look at my new stepbrother again, I force myself to smile at him politely. “It was nice meeting you, Luke.” I tell him cordially.
“The pleasure was all mine, baby sis.”
My mom is smiling at us happily, completely unaware of the tension sparking between us and the sarcasm in the way Luke called me “baby sis.”
I purse my lips to keep from scowling at him, and I see his eyes light with wicked humor, though I still see a spark of that anger in them, and that pisses me off to no end. Like it's my fucking fault that he didn't know who I was and hit on his new stepsister. The man is an egotistical pig. I don't care how hot he is.
I turn on my heel and walk away, but I feel his icy blue eyes burning into me with every step.
When I get to the door of the chapel, I chance a glance back over my shoulder. His eyes are still trained on me, burning hotter than the brightest blue flame. I scowl at him and resist flipping him off.
Instead, I flip my hair over my shoulder before I flounce out of the chapel.
His miscalculation is his problem, and I'm not going to waste another thought on him.
So why does my heart give a little pang when I remember how nice he was before he found out who I am?