Stepbrother Bastard by Colleen Masters

Cash goes on, his ripped
body still humming in the wake of the barely-avoided brawl, “ I ’ m
off. You wanna ride with? ”
    My
heart thrills for just a second at his offer … until
I see that I ’ m not the one he ’ s
extended it to. Instead, his eyes are fixed on Sophie, who looks just as
surprised as I feel — though not as gutted, I ’ m
sure.
    “ Oh.
Uh … OK, ” she says uncertainly, her
eyes darting first toward Luke, then toward me. “ Yeah,
why not. I haven ’ t really seen much of the
town here. ”
    “ Great, ” Cash replies, nodding at
the truck waiting in the long driveway, “ Though
fair warning, there ’ s not much of a town to
see. It ’ s
kind of a shit hole, to be honest. ”
    “ Well,
now I have to see it, ” Sophie laughs, following Cash up the dock.
    I
stand on the gently swaying boards, watching the two of them walking away
together. It ’ s a perfectly innocuous outing, not
the least bit charged — so then why do I feel
like I ’ ve
been slapped in the face?
    “ I
didn ’ t
know those two, uh, got along so well …” I say to Luke, my voice
hollow.
    “ Mhm, ” he grunts back, his jaw
clamped shut. He stares as Cash leads Sophie to the pickup, and tries in vain
not to look furious. He doesn ’ t seem too thrilled about
their little adventure, either.
    “ But you and Sophie, ” I bait him, taking full advantage of his
distracted state, “ You two already have a
history …”
    “ What? ” he snaps, whipping around
to face me.
    “ You
know each other from school, I mean, ” I go on. Looks like I ’ ve
hit a nerve, here. And not a very concealed one, either.
    “ Right, ” Luke replies, shoving his
hands into the pockets of his jeans.
    He ’ s
gone shirtless this afternoon, as well. His body is just as sculpted as Cash ’ s,
though without the ink and occasional scar. But whereas Cash ’ s
body seems to have been built up from combat, boxing, and MMA brawls, Luke ’ s
is more finely honed. He ’ s an athlete and a Crossfit
buff, I ’ ve
learned. A star runner for the Sheridan track team, when he was an undergrad.
In fact, that ’ s how he earned his scholarship
there. When my artsy sister would have ever been in the same room as a jock is
beyond me, though …
    “ How
did you guys meet? At school? ” I decide to press him, sitting back down
at the edge of the dock.
    “ She
never mentioned? ” he asks, moving to stand beside me. I
sense a note of disappointment in his voice.
    “ Nope.
We don ’ t
really talk much, on a regular basis, ” I inform him, letting my
feet dangle into the water.
    “ Huh, ” he says, crossing his
arms.
    “ So,
do you guys have mutual friends, or … ? ” I prod.
    “ Actually, ” he says, looking down at
me, “ I
was her teacher. Well, TA. ”
    My
jaw falls open as I absorb this information. “ You
were her teacher ’ s assistant? ” I ask him, agog.
    “ That ’ s
right, ” he replies. “ Don ’ t
look so shocked. Not all the Hawthorne men are hulked-out neanderthals like my
dear big brother. ”
    “ It's
just … That ’ s
not what I was imagining …” I reply, shaking my head, “ About
how you guys met, I mean. ”
    “ What
exactly were you imagining? ” he asks, a slow grin
creeping across his face.
    “ I ’ m
sure you can guess, ” I say, smiling back.
    “ Not
too hard to, ” he
laughs, rolling his eyes, “ But you ’ re
way off. Sophie was in the econ class I was assisting last semester.
    “ Then
why haven ’ t you mentioned that to anyone here? ” I ask him. “ Sounds
to me like you ’ re hiding something …”
    “ I ’ m
not hiding anything, ” he shrugs, “ TAs
only have a couple one-on-one meetings with their students during the semester.
I just graded a couple of her papers. That ’ s
it. ”
    “ You
sure that ’ s not a euphemism for something? ” I tease him.
    “ Christ.
Someone ’ s
got a one-track mind, ” he replies, nudging me with his foot.
    “ You
didn ’ t
answer the