Stepbrother Billionaire(2)
Author: Colleen Masters

“What’s the matter? You ashamed to have a brother from the wrong side of the tracks?” Emerson presses, jostling me out of my thoughts.

“Don’t put that on me,” I snap back, “As if you can stand having a prissy rich girl for a would-be-sister.”

“You are kind of a bummer,” he says flatly, “But if it makes you feel any better, it’s your personality I hold against you, not your money.”

I stare wordlessly at Emerson, knocked into sullen silence once again by his masterful putdown. By now, but Emerson has figured out exactly how to get to me.

About two months ago, I got the shock of my life when my widower father, Robert Rowan, announced that, after four years of refusing to date, he had just met the new love of his life. Her name was Deborah, he told me. They’d met at AA and “really hit it off”. He talked about her incessantly, stayed out all night like he was a teenager again, and generally weirded the hell out of me.

After just two weeks, Dad told me that he was in love, and wanted to introduce this Deborah to me as soon as possible. I begrudgingly agreed to be around for dinner the following night to meet his mystery woman. We lost my mother Sandy to a terrible car accident just before I started high school, so the idea of a new woman in my father’s life was a little hard to swallow. Still, I did my best to put on a happy face and be as supportive as possible. I’ve never been very good at saying “no” or standing up to my dad, so it’s not like I had much of a choice.

As our doorbell rang the next night, signaling Deborah’s grand entrance into our family’s life, my dad asked me to answer the door. It wasn’t until I was en route that he mentioned Deborah’s son would also be joining us for dinner. When I swung open the door to welcome our guest and her plus one, I’m surprised that my jaw didn’t crack from hitting the floor so hard. There, standing on my doorstep, was Emerson Sawyer. And I could tell from the blank, disinterested look in his eye that he had no idea who I was.

“What’s this?” Emerson interrupts my thoughts, grinning as he snatches the metallic flask out of my back pocket. A trail of sensation sears along the skin just above my belt as his fingers brush against my bare flesh. Goosebumps spring up where his fingertips glanced against my body. It’s like my every cell is hard-wired to respond to him. I need to give each and every one of those cells a stern talking-to.

Emerson knocks back a slug of booze without checking to see what it is first, and lets out a raucous hoot as he tastes the strong whiskey.

“You brought the good stuff!” he crows, draping a muscled arm across my shoulder. “This must be from Daddy’s stash, huh?”

“Give it back, Sawyer,” I demand, trying half-heartedly to push him away from me. If I’m being perfectly honest, the feel of his hard, solid body against mine is something I’ll never stop secretly jonesing for—but he can never know that.

“Come on, Sis. Sharing is caring,” he teases, holding the flask up in the air, just out of my reach. Mocking my height—or lack thereof—is one of his favorite hobbies.

I sigh, refusing to engage in his game. Sometimes, I miss the days where Emerson didn’t even know my name. We don’t go to a gigantic school—there are about three hundred kids in our senior class. So for the first three years of high school, I was able to harbor a huge, unrequited crush on Emerson without ever actually having to speak to him. Emerson’s a lacrosse player, part of the “in” crowd. Because our school is so diverse, socio-economically speaking, popularity doesn’t depend on how much money your family has. If it did, I might actually be known around school as something other than “that short girl who’s always drawing.” But the gods of popularity did not decide to favor me, it would seem. My very petite, nerdy, soft-spoken self is just about invisible in the halls of McCarren High School. In fact, these days, the thing I’m best known for there is being the daughter of the guy Emerson’s “hot mom” is dating.

Oh, goody.

“Just take the damn flask,” I mutter, turning on my heel to go, “I’m out of here anyway. Enjoy yourself, Sawyer.”

But as I attempt to make my grand exit, Emerson steps directly into my path, his staggeringly built body blocking my way. I collide with his muscular form, my hands landing flush against his abdomen. I have to swallow a moan as I feel his insanely cut six pack rippling beneath my fingers. I step quickly away, catching Riley’s amused gaze. She knows all about my feelings for Emerson, being my best friend and all. Hopefully, the other dozen people here in this room can’t see right through me, too. Especially Emerson himself.

“Don’t be such a downer,” he laughs, handing me the flask and extinguishing his smoke in someone’s discarded red cup. “Stay and have fun for once in your life.”

“I’m not a downer. You’re just a pain in the ass,” I reply, snatching the flask out of his strong hands.

“Hey. I had a very troubled childhood,” he says over-dramatically, laying a hand over his heart and arranging his features into an anguished pout. “I can’t help myself.”

“Who am I, Officer Krupke?” I ask, laughing despite myself. “Give me a break.”

It’s no wonder Emerson is so popular, with his wicked sense of humor, his bad boy good looks, and his devil-may-care attitude. He could have his pick of any girl in our school, of that much I am absolutely certain. I’ve been keeping careful tabs on his romantic life for years now, and he definitely doesn’t seem to be the “relationship type”. He’s hanging out with a new girl every weekend, just about. And it seems that this weekend is no exception.

“Hey Emerson,” a breathy voice says from over his shoulder. Two thin, manicured hands slide around his torso from behind, and a beautiful, green-eyed face peeks around his built form.

My heart clenches painfully as I recognize Courtney Haines, a gorgeous redheaded girl in our senior class. She’s our resident thespian, the beautiful star of every single school play, talent show, and choir concert. She’ll probably head to New York after graduation and become some Broadway sensation. But right now, she seems pretty happy in the role of Girl Who Gets to Make Out With Emerson Sawyer Tonight.

I have to admit, I would be too.

Stop that, I chide myself, shaking off my discomfort. You’re not allowed to like him like that anymore. Your parents are dating. Plus, he thinks of you as an annoying little gnat…when he thinks of you at all. Get a grip, Abby.