MY MOM SQUEALED LIKE a teenager as Ted said something I thankfully couldn’t hear.
“They’re disgusting.” My sister, Phoebe, flipped the page of her fashion magazine. “Get a room!” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Ted.” My mother giggled. “The girls are here,” she stage whispered.
“Oh my God.” Phoebe stood and tossed her magazine on the coffee table. Raising her voice, she yelled over her shoulder, “I came for dinner, not to listen to you two screw in the hallway.”
“Phoebe Ann,” my mother snapped as she came around the corner, fixing her shirt. “You watch your mouth.” Her hair was no longer in a neat twist.
Ted strode out with a smile on his face. “She’s like her mother.” He swatted my mom on the ass. “All sass.”
I rolled my eyes as I washed the pots and pans in the sink, but I didn’t disagree. Phoebe was sass times a thousand.
Mom checked the roast in the oven. “It’s almost ready.” She glanced at Phoebe as she went on tiptoe to reach for the plates in the cupboard. “Come help me set the table on the back porch. It’s nice out.”
“Mom,” Phoebe whined. “I just had my hair straightened. I’m not sitting outside in this humidity.”
Ted strode up behind my mother and reached for the plates. “You will if you wanna eat.” He handed the plates to Phoebe but softened his blow with a wink.
“Oh my God, I hate family night.” Phoebe took the plates and, with a huff, let the back door slam behind her.
Mom looked up at Ted. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
Ted kissed her on the nose. “Nothing you did, babe.” He grabbed silverware and napkins. “Just glad to have all my girls under one roof for the evening. I’ll help her set up.” He gave Mom his kind smile and followed Phoebe out the back door with the silverware.
Mom sighed as she watched him go. “He’s a good man.”
“Yeah, he is.” She deserved a good man. She’d worked her butt off raising me and Phoebe by herself. I was glad when she met Ted a few years ago, and even happier for her when he’d married her.
She smiled and shook her head, then looked at me. “We need to find you a good man.”
“Mom,” I groaned. “We’ve gone over this.” Too many times to count. “I’m happy for you, I really am, but I don’t need a man to make my life complete.” I was in school. I didn’t want to wait tables like my mother had had to, and I wasn’t about to follow my sister’s advice and go after every rich guy I met.
Besides, I wasn’t small and petite, or blonde and cute and pretty like Mom or Phoebe. My hips were too wide, my thighs rubbed together, and my dark brown hair was too thick to have perfect curls like Phoebe’s or Mom’s. Phoebe was crazy for straightening hers, but she said rich guys wanted long, straight hair. Whatever. No man had even looked at me since that gorgeous guy at the gas station twelve months ago, so it was a moot point.
“Oh, honey.” My mom put her arm around my waist. “You know I wasn’t saying that. I just want you to be happy is all.”
The timer on the oven rang a second before a knock sounded at the front door.
My mom grabbed the oven mitts. “Will you get the door, Em? I don’t want to burn the roast.”
“Sure.” I dried my hands and made my way to the front door, wondering if my life would be easier if I had a man. Probably not. I’d have less time for schoolwork in the evenings, and I wasn’t about start cooking and doing laundry for someone. I was shaking my head when I pulled the front door open.
My heart leapt, then lodged in my throat.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
It was him. Tall and blond and gorgeous, unreal gorgeous, it was my gas station god. He had shaved off all of his golden hair, but it was him. And holy shit, he was even more muscular than a year ago. And his eyes, his piercing, incredibly blue eyes.
I didn’t know how I remembered to speak. “Callan?”
His stare unwavering, his eyebrows drew together menacingly. “You live here?”
“Um, no?” Shocked, my answer came out sounding like a question.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
A lick of fear raced up my spine and my voice came out in a squeak. “Me? What are you—”
“Where is Andrea?” His deep voice cut through the air, even though it was bedroom quiet.
My stomach plummeted, and I shook my head. “There’s no one here by that name.” I knew a man like him would have a girlfriend. That was why he had said he wished things could be different. I’d known he was unavailable when I’d laid eyes on him. He was too gorgeous to be single, but when he’d cupped my face out of the blue, it’d felt so right. For one single moment, I’d forgotten where we were and I’d leaned into his touch, pretending he was mine.
His frown intensified. “You are Theodore’s daughter?”
Wait. He knew Ted? “No, yes, well, sort of. I’m his stepdaughter.” I glanced over my shoulder, even though I didn’t want to look away from him for one second, but Ted still hadn’t come inside. When I looked back at Callan, he was studying me so intently, I shivered. “Who’s Andrea?”
“You are cold?” Anger laced his tone.
“Um, no.” Cold was about the last thing I was. “Are you here for Ted?” This whole thing was so surreal, I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Who is it, Emily?” my mom called.
Callan tensed at the sound of my mom’s voice, but when Ted came in from the back door, his laugh carrying through the small house, Callan went perfectly still.
That’s when I saw it. Blond hair, square jaw, dimple, blue eyes….
Oh. My God.
Callan looked like Ted. A lot like Ted.
I glanced back at my stepdad as he held the door for Phoebe, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the resemblance a year ago.
“I don’t care what you say. I’m not doing dishes.” Phoebe trailed in after Ted, but then halted abruptly when she saw the open front door and the god of a man standing on the stoop. “Whoa.” Her hand went to her chest.
“Ted?” I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “Can you come here?”
Ted looked up, and just like Callan, he went perfectly still. “Jesus,” he whispered, his face contorting into grief. “Callan?”
My mother stepped out of the kitchen. “Oh my God.”
His eyes glued to Ted, Callan barely tipped his chin.
Crossing the room in a shocked rush, his eyes welling, Ted grabbed Callan and pulled him into a hug. “Son,” he choked on a sob.
Holy. Shit.
My mother looked at me, then Phoebe. “Come on, girls. Let’s give them some privacy.”
Callan was Ted’s son. The son he’d told us was lost to him. Who he’d said he hadn’t seen in over twenty years because his mother had taken him. A son who wasn’t hugging him back. Or even rejoicing in the embrace his father gave him. His arms at his sides, his eyes weren’t even closed. In fact, he was staring at me. Right at me, like he’d been doing since I’d opened the door. Like he’d done at the gas station.
My gas station god was Ted’s son.
“No, babe.” Ted released Callan and swiped at his face as he let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Don’t go. I want you to meet Callan.” He beamed at Callan with a huge smile. “This is my son.”
His gaze cutting through all of us, Callan said nothing.
Ted gripped his shoulder and squeezed, dropping his voice. “I read in the paper about River Stephens. I wish I could say I was sorry.”
River Stephens? The River Stephens? The infamous leader of violent River Ranch cult?
Callan didn’t move a muscle, but the silent anger that spread across his expression was palatable.
Ted, oblivious at first to the thick tension surrounding us all, stared at his son. Then his face fell. “Aw hell, son. Where you there when it happened?”
Quiet, but all warning, Callan finally spoke. “I am no one’s son.”
Ted was nodding before he got the last word out. “I understand. I get it.” He gestured toward my mother. “Come in. Meet my wife and her daughters.” Ted smiled at my mother like he always did, like he was seeing her for the first time. “Callan, this is my wife, Marie.”
My mom held her hand out. “What a pleasure to finally meet you.”
The gas station god was my stepbrother.
Stepbrother.
And he grew up in River Ranch.
Holy fucking shit.
Without shaking her hand, Callan barely tipped his chin. The slight movement seemed like it was a huge breach of his usual mannerisms, and every second of our chance meeting last year came back in vivid detail. His odd way of speech, his intense stare, his quietness, his camouflage pants and green T-shirt even though he had said he was not in the military—it all started to make sense.
Either not noticing his lack of manners, or not caring, Ted grinned at me and Phoebe. “And this is Phoebe and Emily.”
Phoebe smiled like she’d won the lottery. “Well, aren’t you as handsome as you are tall.”
Ignoring her, Callan cast his gaze toward Ted. “Where is Andrea?”
Ted’s face fell, and he cleared his throat. His voice turned quiet. “I’m sorry, son. Your sister is dead.”