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Chapter Three
Elli
“About fucking time,” my stepfather, Harold, grunts as I enter the small living room of our tiny house. His eyes narrow suspiciously on my flushed cheeks and the smile I can’t seem to wipe from my face. “What’s got you looking so fucking happy?”
I school my features. Can’t have him knowing I’ve been playing sucky-face with a virtual stranger—albeit a sizzling hot stranger who kissed me back like I was his air. Does he do that with all the women who throw themselves at him?
“Just glad to be home,” I lie chirpily.
“Where’s lunch?” my stepbrother, Raymond, snaps as he saunters into the living room.
Raymond is the eldest of my two stepbrothers. He spends most of his day at the local gym pumping iron or posing in front of his bedroom mirror. He looks like an over-inflated Ken doll to me, courtesy of the steroids he chucks down his throat. They also make him aggressive sometimes, so I do my best to keep out of his way as much as possible.
Lawrence, my younger stepbrother, is tall and lanky with a mean sense of humor. Suffice to say, living under the same roof with the three men is no picnic, but I have nowhere else to go. It’s four years since Mom passed, and I’m stuck in the same small house in the same small town without the finances to change anything. I hoped I could’ve moved out by now, or my stepbrothers would have since they’re in their late twenties.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt you, just once, to make your own lunch,” I grumble, shooting Raymond an angry glare.
Raymond takes a step closer, running a finger down my cheek. “And why would we do that when we have you to cater to our every whim?”
I slap his hand away. “Touch me again, and I’ll rip your balls off.”
Raymond bursts out laughing. “I’d like to see you try, sis.”
“Enough!” Harold barks from his chair, pulling his attention from his favorite game show. “Elli, you need to get busy cooking us lunch. Today is not the day to change the routine around here.”
I take in his greasy slicked-back hair and stained shirt where he’s spilled his coffee. Disgust rolls over me. How have I let myself get trapped in this situation? They never lift a finger around the house. I’m cook, cleaner, and general dog’s body. Is this what Mom wanted when she made me promise to take care of them? Did love make her blind to their selfishness?
I clench my jaw and turn toward the kitchen. When it was just Mom and me, we managed to prepare meals with barely any food in the cupboards. Making ends meet is a way of life—I’ve never known any different.
I cobble together the ingredients for vegetable lasagna. Forty minutes later, I place the steaming dish on the kitchen table, where my stepbrothers are already seated, waiting to be fed. My stepfather always has his meal on a tray in front of the TV. God forbid he should unglue his ass from that chair.
“A little meat wouldn’t go amiss,” Raymond grumbles, shoveling in a mouthful of lasagna. “I need the protein for my workouts.”
“Then I suggest you get a job because the grocery budget won’t stretch to meat until I get paid next week,” I say sweetly.
“Or maybe you should eat less,” Lawrence pipes up with a smirk. “Surely they can feed you at the resort.”
I look at the tiny portion of lasagna on my plate. “My job doesn’t include free meals. I’m paid to clean cabins, which is hard work, not that either of you would know hard work if it slapped you in the face because you’ve never lifted a finger to contribute around here. No, you’re happy to sit back and let me take responsibility for every—”
“Ah, shit, she’s off again,” Lawrence speaks over me, rolling his eyes at Raymond.
“I can see her lips moving, but all I hear is ‘blah fucking blah,’” Raymond replies, opening and closing his hand next to his ear in a yapping motion.
The brothers laugh and fist bump each other.
“Assholes,” I mutter under my breath. They take enormous delight in poking fun at my shortcomings. “You won’t be laughing the day I walk out of here and leave you to your own pathetic devices.”
“And where, precisely, would you go?” Raymond asks cruelly. “Unless you plan on opening your legs for one of those rich guests up at the resort.”
My blood boils with frustration, rushing up my neck and into my cheeks. I fight back the tears, determined not to show weakness in front of them. Clenching my jaw, I ball my hand into a fist under the table, wanting to punch the smug looks from their faces.
Don’t fight with your brothers. They’re our family now.
Mom’s words flit through my head. She was so determined to play happy families that she turned a blind eye to my stepbrothers’ mean attitudes and her lazy-ass husband.
I take a deep breath and unfurl my fingers. I’m not sure if it’s meeting Noah or that unforgettable kiss, but something has shifted in me. Whatever the reason, one thing is clear—I can’t do this anymore. I need to get out of this hell hole. The question is, how?
Once I’ve washed the dishes, loaded the washer with the dirty laundry, and tidied the house, I escape to my room. The house has three bedrooms, so Lawrence and Raymond are forced to share, while my stepfather has the master bedroom. Despite being the smallest in the house, my room is my sanctuary. I can close the door on my shitty life for a bit and lose myself in my books and jewelry-making.
My hobby is my little secret, and it’s starting to make me a little money—nowhere near enough to get me out of this place, but it’s a start. I’ve set up a website with my designs and linked it to a payment site that feeds directly into a separate bank account in my name.
My mind tends to flit around a lot, making it difficult to focus, but certain things hold my attention for hours. Jewelry making is one of them, as is reading and listening to music. They’re a balm to my overactive brain and give me a sense of calm. The only other time I’ve experienced that same calmness was when I was with Noah. My nervous mouth still ran away with me, but something about him made me feel safe. He seemed to accept me for who I was. Crazy, considering I spent less than a half-hour in his company.
I still can’t believe I kissed him. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t, that’s the point. I acted purely on instinct. I’ve never done anything like that before, but there’s no denying he kissed me back. And holy cheeseballs, the man can kiss.
And then he asked—no, told—me he was taking me to dinner. I can’t deny his take-charge attitude had my blood thrumming through my veins and my core clenching with desire. Noah Tensly is a whole lot of man, and he seems to have fixed his sights on me. But I refuse to over-analyze his motives. It’s a date—nothing more, nothing less. For once in my life, I’m going to switch off my brain, follow my heart, and see where it takes me.
I spend the next few hours working on my jewelry designs before showering and changing into skinny jeans and a blue shirt. I brush out my hair, leaving it down, and apply a little mascara and a slick of lip gloss before sliding my feet into the only decent pair of boots I own. Checking my appearance in the mirror, I decide I’ll have to do. I’m no glamor model, nor do I aspire to be, and I’m comfortable in my skin.
I leave the house with a cheery goodbye, not waiting for a reply as I close the door behind me. I climb behind the wheel of my Honda Civic, crank the engine, and head toward the resort.
