Hooked: A Stepbrother Romance (21 page)

Emilia hates me. She has every right to, I know.

I hate her too anyways.

Fourth of July at West Field was always memorable, the rec center regulars turning out in droves to celebrate. It had always been a big deal, but its popularity had spiked a few years ago with the inclusion of two dunk tanks. Adam had rented them one year as an experiment, hoping to raise a little extra money, and it had been an instant success.

It turned out that everyone was more than happy to pay a few dollars to try dunking their youth center coordinators into a tank full of disgustingly warm water, and the first year alone we’d raised enough money to fund a couple of group outings that summer. Since then, it had turned into a beloved tradition, and this year would likely be no different. This time around, we wanted to finance a two-day camping trip to the closest National Park, and so I took great care to make sure the dunk tank attraction was stationed prominently in the center of the festivities.

Particularly since, this year, I imagined I’d be able to gracefully bow out and let Simon take my place in the tank. I was sure he’d be willing to volunteer, as soon as I explained it to him.

All around me, people were busy setting up other fundraising booths and stands. Soon, I knew, families and friends of the rec center would begin trickling in with coolers full of food from every part of the world, sparking off a great evening of communal fun.

As usual, Johnnie had given us access to his cold water tap, and I was busy filling the tank when Simon crept up behind me.

“Hey you,” he said, his voice soft and low as he leaned behind me and whispered into my ear. It was the first time he’d been this close since we left the diner that morning, and shivers ran down my spine as his breath tickled the hair on the back of my neck.

Seeing him help pull all the decorations and equipment from storage had been a revelation. Even with his muscular physique, jet-black hair and striking tattoo, Simon Ferguson was more than sex on legs. A lot more. He was actually an amazing guy all-around; smart, calm, clever, caring. He was a much better catch than any of my previous boyfriends.

Not that Simon was my boyfriend. Going out with your childhood bully would’ve been weird enough on its own, but dating your stepbrother was just crossing all kinds of boundaries. There was no blood relation between us, true, and we’d hardly been brought up together. Two summers as teenagers, and that was it. Overall I’d spent less time with him than I had with Timur, the limping exchange student from Uzbekistan who had attended university with me for a year. Even so, there was no question about it. Dating Simon would be
weird
.

No matter how many stupid fantasies about it crashed through my head every time I saw him.

Or heard him.

Or smelled him.

Or breathed.

Of course, there were other fantasies. Ones that I had less problem indulging in, like sharing a bed with him for the summer.

“What is this contraption, and how can I help you set it up?” Simon asked, derailing my train of thoughts just before they turned into vividly reliving last night for the millionth time today.

“They’re dunk tanks.”

“Yes, I see that. But, tell me more about it. I smell something a little fishy,” he laughed, pointing to the hand-painted sign that read:

DUNK A COACH!

TWO BALLS $1

FIVE BALLS $2

“You’ll love it,” I promised.

“Is that a fact?” he said, a dash of playful indignation in his voice as he tried not to laugh.

“Besides, it’s a fundraising effort.”

“So if I donate another few thousand dollars, I don’t have to get wet. Right?”

“Or, you could donate another few thousand dollars
and
get wet.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he conceded.

You’d have my eternal gratitude,” I said, fluttering my eyes at him exaggeratedly.
 

“Hmmmm,” he said, tapping his finger on his lips as he pretended to be absorbed in complex calculations. “And this eternal gratitude, exactly how does it show itself on a day-to-day basis?”

In spite of myself, I blushed.

“Stop it, Simon,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Teasing.”

“Oh, now
I’m
the one teasing, little miss moans-through-breakfast?” he said, and I burst out laughing. He smiled, bringing beautiful light to his eyes and making me melt on the spot.

Everyone says working with your lover is hard, and I could see how this one-upmanship with flirting could get us both into trouble. Still, I hadn’t expected it to feel so good, or be so
funny
.

“So, I guess you guys are good to go, then?” Adam chimed in as he got closer to the tanks, eyeing the vats of water carefully.

“Yeah, they’re filling up good,” I said, pointing to the hoses we’d been lent to replace the leaky ones we’d had to use last year. “We should be ready by five, so you can start getting set up around quarter till.”

Adam raised a suspicious eyebrow as he walked to the table next to the twin tanks, pointing to the sign.

“It says ‘coach’ here.”

“Well, that’s what they call you,” I pointed out.

“Maybe, but I don’t actually coach anyone.”

“It’s the sign we’ve had for the past two years!” I protested, already seeing where this conversation was headed. “You’ve been dunked more times than I can count.”

“Yes, but it makes so much more sense if it’s the two of you,” he said, though I was already resigned to my fate. Of course he was right, and even if he hadn’t been, the gleeful look on Simon’s face told me there was no way out of this for me.

“We’ll make much more money this way, Em. You’ve always been way more popular to dunk, and think of how happy everyone will be to dunk
two
coaches!”

“Especially since we’ve been forcing them to play rugby,” Simon pointed out. “I’m sure they’ll love to soak us much more than they would Adam.”

Thanks for that, bro
.

I looked down at my sandals and the short, sweet dress I’d brought for the occasion, letting a dramatic sigh escape from my lips.

Two hours later my fingers were gripping the underside of my tank’s seat, a huge crowd of howling spectators gathered around to watch the show. My heart sank as Jessa positioned herself to be the first in line; she was one of the center’s oldest regulars, living on her own.

In other words, she had a job.

Disposable income.

She’d bought a
lot
of balls, the look on her face manic as she flitted her eyes between my target and Simon’s. Unable to decide, she twirled around and quickly conferred with Shauna, who was standing next in line. I looked over to Simon, and the smile on his face spoke volumes about how much fun he was having.

I had to admit, his enthusiasm was catchy. Getting wet was hardly the end of the world, after all.

Their conversation concluded, Jessa sauntered in front of my tank while Shauna went for Simon. Jessa wasted no time in hurling one of the small balls towards my target, but it flew wide and rolled to a stop on the dry grass.

Off to the side, there was an immediate clang as Shauna’s first toss slammed straight into the target, hurling Simon into the tank while the crowd whooped and hollered. Everyone cheered her on, while Jessa lobbed another three balls harmlessly in my direction.

I was just starting to relax when the two young women looked at each other and nodded, switching places. Shauna bounced up towards my tank, and I had a moment to think about how the next few hours were going to go. Simon was a great coach, and almost everyone at the center had been getting more interested in athletics….

While I was wondering what, exactly, I had gotten myself into, Shauna’s second ball slammed into the target.

I fell with a loud splash and a roar of approval, just barely catching a glimpse of Shauna giving high-fives to the rest of the team as I recovered my senses. Jessa finally managed a hit as well, sending Simon down into the water for a second time.

Wiping the water from my eyes, I waddled over towards Simon for a second.

“Thanks for doing this, you know. You didn’t have to.” He wiped his own brow, laughing. His beautiful smile turned just a little wicked as he looked me over, scattering butterflies in my stomach. My body pulsed in response, wishing we had a little time and privacy together.

“You look sinful as hell. Just freaking gorgeous,” he whispered, staring at my submerged body. The crowd was starting to urge us back to our seats, and I realized with horror what was going on. Lightly colored and a little on the thin side, this was
not
a good dress to get wet in.

At least not both definitions of “wet,” and certainly not at the same time.

Crossing my arms across my chest to hide my reaction to Simon’s presence, I quickly scuttled back up the steps and sat myself back into place, trying hard to keep my face as casual as possible. The redness in my cheeks could be explained by the excitement of being dunked, and hopefully this would all be over soon.

Simon was still in the water, gesturing for Adam to come over. I didn’t have time to wonder what it meant, though, as the next person in line quickly scored another hit and sent me flying back into the tank.

By the time I got back in place, Adam was in front of the tanks and holding the megaphone we used to make public announcements during the party.

“Great news! I’m thrilled to share that Mr. Ferguson has agreed to match all the proceeds from the dunk tank today! For every dollar you spend, he’ll be donating a dollar himself!” Adam’s voice boomed.

The crowd cheered harder as even more people began to take their place in line. This was going to be a very,
very
long afternoon.

Out of the blue.

Emilia got hired as a coach at the Goodman Youth Center.

Seriously, what are the fucking odds?