Based: A Stepbrother Romance (Extreme Sports Alphas) (17 page)

Tracey laughed again and I grinned at her.

“The pencil sharpener would probably be better company afterward,” she said.

We laughed together as Jess hung up the phone and looked our way.

“Break’s almost over,” she called out.

“Sir, yes, sir,” I mumbled.

“And you thought I was trying to kill you,” Tracey whispered.

I grinned at her as she stood up and walked over to her stuff to get a drink of water.

Whatever was happening with Jess was none of my business, or at least I hoped it wasn’t. There was some stupid part of me that couldn’t help but think Jess somehow knew about Brie and me.

But that was impossible. She never stayed overnight, always left at the end of the day. It had to be something else.

Slowly, the crew filtered back in, and the session resumed. I tried not to think about Jess and her problems, but something was nagging me. I concentrated on the task before me and tried not to let it get to me too much.

––––––––

I
slammed down on the paddles, the pinball machine lighting up like lightning on the beach. I lost myself in the flashing colors and rhythmic sounds, trying to put everything out of mind.

Which was basically impossible. I had fucked Brie the night before, had fallen asleep beside her, and all I wanted was more of that. But there was that nagging feeling about Jess still lingering over everything.

I couldn’t help myself. What if she had come in early that morning and found us lying there on the floor? It wasn’t like Jess was completely unaware that I escaped to the music room sometimes. She had never come upstairs to wake me up, but I wouldn’t put anything past her.

I was so deep in my worries that I didn’t hear the door open and close behind me.

“Hey,” she said.

I stopped playing, the ball rolling down between the paddles, and looked at Brie.

“Hey yourself.”

She smiled uncertainly and walked toward me. I blinked as the breath was taken out of me. Her hair was long and full and her lips perfect, and I could practically see her hard nipples through the thin fabric of her T-shirt and her bikini top.

“Relaxing?” she asked, nodding at the machine.

“You know it.”

“Good. Get the high score yet?”

I shook my head. “No. But I will.”

There was a nervous pause. “Okay, this is totally weird.”

I laughed and grinned at her. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“We should talk about last night.”

“I keep saying we shouldn’t, but I guess I can’t avoid it.”

“Lincoln, you know what that was.”

“It was fucking hot, yeah. I know.”

“That’s not what I mean.” She looked away and down at the floor. “Don’t make this hard.”

I laughed again. “What, are you breaking up with me?”

She looked up sharply. “No! No. That’s not it at all.”

“I get it, Brie baby. I’m bad news. Even if our parents weren’t married, you wouldn’t want to get mixed up with ‘Based’ Carter.”

I hit a nerve with that one. “Why do you think you know what I want?”

“You’re a good girl. High GPA, goes to Notre Dame, science geek. Lives in a lab, I bet. That sort of shit, the career you want, that’s all political as much as you don’t want to admit it. I’m not good for politics.”

“What do you know about what I want?” she repeated again, angrier.

“I guess I don’t. But I know what I am.”

“So do I.”

“What am I, Brie?” I asked, stepping closer to her.

I saw her breath catch in her throat. “Don’t,” she said.

“Don’t what?” I asked, stopping inches away from her. “Don’t make you say it?”

“Just let it drop, Lincoln.”

“What am I?”

“Drop it.”

I reached up and touched her face. She inhaled sharply. “Say it,” I whispered.

“You’re a fucking asshole. You’re not good for me,” she said.

I nodded sadly. “That’s right.”

There was a brief moment where she looked back at me and everything seemed fine. Then I dropped my hand and moved away from her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” she blurted out.

“Don’t worry about it, Brie baby. I’m still going to do my mom’s charity thing.”

“I don’t care about that.”

I leaned back against the pinball machine. “We can’t keep doing this dance, and we can’t keep fucking. There’s only one choice.”

She stared at me, her face a mask of anger. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“Seems obvious to me, that’s all.”

“Nothing is fucking obvious about this. But I guess I was right about one thing: you are an asshole.”

“Can’t fight the truth,” I said, shrugging.

“Fine. I’ll keep you updated on the event. Otherwise, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Whatever you want.”

Her jaw worked like she wanted to say something, and I had the irrational urge to walk across the room and kiss her again.

I wanted to take her. I wanted the things that I wanted despite all the reasons not to have them. I wanted her.

She turned and left the room without another word. I watched her go in silence.

I turned back to the pinball machine, slamming the paddles, letting myself get lost in the game. I knew I had blown that up. I had done it on purpose. I was telling myself it was for her own good, but I really wasn’t sure of anything anymore. All I knew was that I wanted her and couldn’t get her out of my head.

But with everything happening, that was the last thing either of us needed.

I slammed the paddle and watched the metal ball zoom across the machine’s face and bounce around, points skyrocketing.

It was better this way. It had to be better this way. We had one more event together, and then we could go back to living our separate lives. I’d heal, finish up the documentary, finish up my parole, and finally go back to jumping.

She could go back to living her normal life.

Better this way. Definitely better.

The metal ball zoomed, and I smashed the paddles. But I mistimed it, and the ball slipped between them.

The scoreboard read “Game Over.”

Charity Event #2

A
nother few days of not talking to each other, avoiding glances in the hallways, and showering when I knew he’d be busy. I felt like a petulant teenager in a fight with her mom, except I was avoiding the stepbrother who I wanted more than anything.

I couldn’t get that night out of my head. I had never been touched like that before, with a rough but tender intensity, like I was the only person in the entire world that mattered.

Even when his legs almost collapsed out from under him, he still managed to be the strongest man I had ever met in my life. When I rode him, I felt free and loose and easy.

Nobody had ever made me feel that way before. Nobody had ever come close.

And instead of working my ass off to keep that feeling going, I messed it all up. I didn’t plan on going in there and ending things, but looking at him standing there covered in sweat, I panicked. I was afraid of how badly I wanted him to fuck me right there on the pool table.

I was reckless around him. Neither of us could afford that.

So I acted like an asshole and screwed it up. I was a coward and I wasn’t talking to him and he wasn’t talking to me and I hated every second I had to spend without his perfect arms wrapped around my naked body.

“Paintings are here,” Jules chirped into my ear.

I winced and adjusted the headset’s volume. “Got it. Where do you want them?”

“Table thirty-two, please.”

“Okay, on it.”

I sighed, pushing off the wall where I had been leaning and daydreaming and walking off toward the entrance.

It was hard to believe that the auction was happening already. It felt like it had only been a day or two since Jules had first asked me about it. As I moved through the cavernous auction space with tables lined up neatly throughout the space, I was impressed all over again by her ability to pull something like this off.

Jules may have been a little daffy, but she sure as hell could throw a charity event.

Quickly, I found the paintings she referenced and helped set them up at the designated table. The space was full of people bustling around, putting out flowers and objects, stuff like handmade scarves and signed first editions of famous books. I couldn’t remember what specific charity she had chosen, but I was sure that it was about to receive an enormous donation.

I wandered through the space, looking over the stuff. There were old baseball cards, signed instruments, gift cards to expensive restaurants, and more. Suddenly, I stopped in front of one table and gawked.

In the center was a huge picture of Lincoln without his shirt on, tattoos covering his torso. His handsome face was chiseled and pulled up into his classic shit-eating grin. I blinked, remembering that exact body wrapped around mine, sweating as he worked me.

Laid out around the picture was signed memorabilia. There was a basket full of his clothing line, Based, and a signed parachute bag. There was a signed helmet and the kneepads he wore when he broke the world record. But what caught my attention most was a simple ticket displayed proudly on a pedestal above everything else. The little sign next to it read, “Win a date with Lincoln ‘Based’ Carter himself!”

“What the hell?” I mumbled to myself as I inspected it.

Apparently, Jules had somehow managed to get Lincoln to agree to go out on a date with whoever won that ticket. It was one night only, for a few hours at a nice restaurant, and clearly it was meant for his female fans. I shook my head, completely bewildered, as strange conflicting emotions bubbled up to the surface.

What the hell was Jules thinking? And why did I even care?

“Aubrie, need you at table forty,” Jules cut in through my earpiece.

“Okay, got it.”

I tore myself away from Lincoln’s display, jaw clenched. I knew that the “date” wasn’t really a date, that it was just a fun charity thing for one of Lincoln’s fans. I knew it didn’t mean anything, especially considering it was his mom setting it all up. She wouldn’t exactly pimp him out.

Would she?

I shook my head. I was going absolutely insane.

Over at table forty, there was an older couple setting up expensive-looking canes, clearly for the elderly in the crowd. I helped them unpack and array them out along their space.

In the back of my mind, though, I kept thinking about that picture of Lincoln, and how it didn’t do him justice. It completely paled in comparison to the real thing. I absolutely shouldn’t know that, but I did, and I couldn’t stop dwelling on that fact.

I knew it was going to be a weird night. Between Lincoln actually showing up and trying to keep my distance from him, it was going to be bad enough. But the whole date thing really threw a wrench in my plans.

Still, it was for a good cause. Probably, whatever it was. And the night definitely couldn’t get any worse.

––––––––

I
watched from my seat near the stage as people slowly filled the banquet hall and began to mill about through the table displays. It was a silent auction, which meant that each person wrote their number down on a piece of paper next to the object being bid on, and the highest offer won.

Which was fortunate, because I didn’t think I could sit through a real auction. I was antsy enough and itching to get up and move, and being stuck in my chair for hours would have been hell.

I stood, stretching my legs, and sighed. There was an open bar and a nice buffet over against one wall, and I made my way toward it.

There was nothing better for anxiety than fried food and alcohol. That may not be true for all people, or really anybody ever, but I sure as hell loved chicken fingers, and I wanted a glass of wine.

As I honed in on my delicious meal, Jules appeared out of nowhere, cutting me off.

She looked fantastic, if overdressed, in a floor-length gown and her hair pinned up in a fancy swirl. She pulled it off, though, and made everyone else look like they weren’t trying hard enough. Honestly, I knew it probably took her twenty minutes at most to look like that, which was completely frustrating. She had a glow about her, especially since she was in her element.

And running social events was her element. She was like a whale, and parties were her ocean. She was a schmoozing whale.

“What’s up, Jules?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Do you know where your brother is?”

It took me a second to understand the question. “Lincoln? I have no clue.”

She sighed. “Typical. He was supposed to be here a half hour ago.”

“Want me to look around for him?”

“If you would, that’d be great.”

“Where do you need him?”

“Call me over the headset. I need to show him off onstage a bit.”

“For the date thing?”

“Exactly.”

“Whose idea was that, anyway?”

She laughed. “You won’t believe me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t make it up?”

“Nope. It was his idea, actually.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Oh. That’s . . . interesting.”