VULTURE (a Stepbrother Romance) (8 page)

“
I
hope you’re hungry
,” I said to Harvey from across the heavy wooden dining table. He sat with the top two buttons of his work shirt undone, revealing a toned neck. He’d removed his light grey tie and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, which was now draped over the back of his chair.

“Starving,” Harvey replied. Barely visible wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled as his mouth turned upward into a smile. I couldn’t help but notice that he was looking at me more than usual. Studying me like an abstract painting he couldn’t quite understand. I caught him glancing up from his plate more often than not, causing me to squirm in my seat.

I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten a meal together alone. Come to think of it, I don’t think we ever had. There’d always been another person acting as a buffer—a family member, either one of our parents or Anita. It was new territory, and try as I might, I needed to remind myself constantly that it wasn’t a date. I supposed it would be good practice for the future, but god, Eric was barely cold in the ground. There was no way I could think of dating at such an early juncture. What would people think? And never mind that, who would even have me? When you hear the word widow, it conjures a withered woman in endless mourning, forever alone and surrounded by cats.

I raised my head, and our eyes met again across the silent table, our clattering cutlery the only sound in the room. Well, except the rapid thud of my heart, which I hoped he could not hear. His strong jaw moved as he chewed, a line of drop-dead sexy stubble darkened his thick neck. I held back a sigh. Even I knew that if I were ever ready to trust another man again, there would be no way I could get a guy like Harvey—full of confidence, with muscles that bulged and sultry eyes that always gave you their full concentration.

“This tastes so good. I didn’t know you could cook,” he said.

A hint of a blush blossomed onto the surface of my cheeks. “Thank you,” I muttered. Eric had never complimented me on my cooking, even though I’d studied countless recipes and attempted to perfect each meal, hoping one day he’d be pleased enough or satisfied enough to say something. I played with my food and grew restless.

“What’s bothering you, Sara?” Harvey asked a second later.

I sent him a sheepish smile. God, he was perceptive. I wasn’t sure if I liked having him in my head. It was an odd feeling, as if he were reading me, and doing a fine job of it.

“I was just thinking about Eric… the accident and the life insurance.”

He frowned and laid his cutlery down on the side of his plate, giving me his full attention. “What about it?”

“I can’t believe he killed himself. Not after that morning, it doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean? What happened in the morning?”

“Oh,” I replied, “I just mean, well, we had a bit of a fight.” I averted my gaze, then quickly added, “but it was nothing.”

“If it was nothing, then you can tell me what happened. What was the fight about?”

He reached over, took my hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

I nodded. I could easily tell him, just let it all out and wait to see the shock appear on his face, but then the shock would turn into pity. He’d see me as damaged goods, a weak excuse for a woman. “It’s not important,” I said firmly and attempted to alter the course of the conversation. “I just wish there was something more I could do. The insurance company won’t discuss it anymore; they’ve decided he killed himself and that’s that.”

“Let me help?” he uttered.

“How?”

“I might be able to get them to re-evaluate their decision.”

I swallowed a gulp of water and nearly choked on it. Harvey patted my back gently as I coughed, his large hands easing their way up my spine. “Really? You can do that? But how?”

He chuckled at my questions and shook his head. “Don’t you know I’m a big deal in this town?”

I shrugged my shoulders, and he continued. “Leave it with me. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a shot, grease a few palms if you know what I mean. I have some connections. At the very least I might be able to get you some peace of mind. Enough perhaps to help you move on,” he said softly.

“I don’t understand, though. If they’ve closed the investigation, how can you get them to open it again?”

He waved my inquiries away and went back to his food, his hand letting go of mine. He readied his fork with salmon and lifting it to his mouth, he said, “Don’t worry about it, trust me.”

Easier said than done. I would worry, I thought. I didn’t want Harvey doing anything illegal for me, if that’s what he was implying. Maybe I should just move on with my life. It’s not like I would ever know what was going through Eric’s head in the last moments of his life, especially when I’d never had that ability during our marriage. He’d always been a mystery to me. I never knew what would set him off.

The delicious taste of salmon quickly faded, and I couldn’t bring back the enthusiasm of my appetite again.

While Harvey opened another bottle of wine, I reached out, gathered the dishes and brought them over to the sink. I turned the tap on and let the water run over the plates, rinsing them before I stuffed them inside the dishwasher. After everything was tucked away in containers, I took the glass he offered me, and we sat down on the sofa. I told myself to stop fretting, to enjoy Harvey’s company and the wine that was making me slightly tipsy. I could leave the worrying for another time.

“Thanks for this,” I said as I turned towards him.

“For what?”

“For coming over, spending time with me, for making sure I’m OK. I know you must have more exciting things to do. But I appreciate it. It’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Me? You must me have confused with someone else. I came for the food, nothing else,” he said and winked.

My insides melted, and for the tiniest of seconds I truly wished that the evening could last forever.

We settled down to watch a spoof horror movie on Netflix. The creepy sound that vibrated through the TV sent an unsettling feeling through me. I ignored it and continued to watch, trying my hardest not to cringe or turn my eyes away when the psycho killer jumped out in front of one the characters with his sharp knife.

“You OK?” Harvey asked, chuckling as he threw a cushion at me. “We don’t have to watch it if you’re scared.”

I caught the fluffy projectile and threw it back at him, glaring at him all the while.

“I ain’t scared,” I lied, “but you’re hogging the sofa, and I can’t get comfy.”

“Come here then,” he said as he pulled me closer to his side of the sofa. He made room, and though I felt a bit silly at first, I soon relaxed into his side, enjoying the innocence of the gesture. But then my mind began to wander.

His solid warmth radiated off of him, and his manly cologne invaded my senses, making me want to scoot even closer and nuzzle into the hollow of his neck. I resisted the urge and went back to watching the TV, thoroughly distracted. His tanned arm was slung across my shoulders, his fingers light but firm against my upper arm. The more I thought about where he was touching me, the more I tensed up, dreaming lazily of how it would feel if he moved his arm farther down, onto my waist perhaps, or if he angled his hand just right and accidentally brushed against the side of my boob.

By the time I pulled my attention back to the film, the credits were rolling up the screen, and Harvey was pulling away from me. I sighed in regret for not tuning in and cursed myself for paying too much attention to my unattainable stepbrother. Disappointment rolled through me that the film hadn't been a little longer.

Harvey excused himself and went to the bathroom, and I felt a light buzz beside me. I stared down and noticed his phone had escaped the tight confines of his pants and had slipped down the sofa cushions. The screen lit up in my hand as I pulled it free. An unfamiliar number and name appeared on the device, and I sat watching it for a moment.

I glanced towards the bathroom and waited for him to emerge. A minute later the ringing stopped and started back up again. I bit down on my bottom lip.

“Hello?” I said.

“Harvey?” A female voice asked. She sounded hot and impatient—a woman not to be messed with—and I wondered if she was his girlfriend, or perhaps a regular fuck-buddy.

“Sorry, he’s in the bathroom at the moment. Oh, hold on. He’s here.” Right in time, Harvey appeared, and I passed the phone to him. He smiled, took the phone from me and walked into the hallway. I perched on the edge of the sofa and waited patiently. I was desperate for us to recreate our little moment again—safe in his arms, watching movies and thinking of nothing else.

“Is something wrong?” A line marred my forehead when he ended the call and came back into the room.

“Sorry to cut our night short, but Sadie needs me.”

I need you, though.

Sadie, so that’s her name, I thought. Another twinge of disappointment gripped me. It was foolish to think I’d have him all to myself; he had his own life that didn’t revolve around me. I knew I shouldn’t be jealous of her and her relationship with my stepbrother, but every fibre of my being coloured itself green with envy.

He must be dating this Sadie, otherwise what could possibly be the reason? I scattered the thoughts away and told myself that it was none of my damn business. Harvey could fuck whomever he wanted, and I wasn’t entitled to pry into his business or feel jealous.

“I gotta run and see what she needs. I’ll check up on you later, OK?” he said and bent down to kiss my cheek. Surprised at his movements, I sat rigid, my eyes closing softly as his lips caressed my face. I felt his warm breath, and then he was gone.

“Bye,” I whispered.

M
y life was falling
to pieces as the weeks passed by. During those weeks I received three missed mortgage payment notices from the bank, one of them demanding full payment of my arrears within thirty days. Did they expect me to perform miracles or something? The money I was bringing in from the minimum wage café job was simply not enough, and dark days lurked in the corner as I became more and more stressed. Desperation crept into my life, suffocating me, and though I wanted to stand on my own two feet and shy away from the damsel-in-distress routine, I knew I had to swallow my pride and ask for help.

I chewed on my nails as I placed my phone against my ear, waiting for Harvey to pick up. I hoped that maybe he’d had some luck with the insurance investigation.

When I heard his voicemail on the other end, I ended the call and tried again. I speed-dialled his number, brought the mobile back to my ear and listened intently as it continued to ring. I tapped my foot against the carpeted floor, growing restless and troubled. I began to pace around the room.

The ringing stopped and went straight to his voicemail again. A sob slipped free from my lips. Why wasn’t he answering? A worst-case scenario formed in my head, but I shoved it aside, replacing my fear of Harvey’s unanswered calls with fear of the never-ending nightmare Eric had seen fit to leave me with.

“I’m never going to get past this,” I murmured into my hands, wracking my brain for anything I could do to get myself out of this mess. Eric was dead, and yet he was still tormenting me, and I was powerless to stop it. He was still dictating the course of my life.

It had to stop.

I worried my lips and gnawed down on the flesh, nipping at it as my anxiety increased.

First things first. I had to think logically. I needed a way to pay the mortgage before the bank took possession of the house and kicked me out of my own home, forcing me to live out in the streets, or worse, with my sister or mother.

A knock sounded on the back door. With a quick look in the hallway mirror, tidying away a couple loose strands of hair and wiping my tear-stained cheeks, I went to see who it was. But I knew there was only one person who ever came to the back door. Over six feet of muscle was revealed as I pulled open the door. Harvey stood before me, looking grim.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I shouted at him, lashing out at him for no real reason other than he was there—alive. “I was worried!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My phone must’ve been on silent.” He took a thorough look at me, the tears welling up in my eyes, and he pulled me to his chest. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. But I’m OK, I promise,” he soothed, as he held me tight.

Eventually he let me go, and I escaped into the living room, desperately swiping at my face, angry at the tears that flowed. He thinks I’m pathetic, I thought, and I blew my red nose on a piece of tissue.

“This can’t be all about me not answering my phone, can it?” he asked as he came over to me.

I shrugged and blew out a noisy breath.

“Everything’s fucked,” I declared, “and I think I need your help.”

“Tell me,” he urged and planted his feet, his hands on his hips, his suit jacket parting at the motion.

“I got another notice from the bank. I’m three months behind on my mortgage payments. I have thirty days to get the money, or they’ll take the house.”

“Is that all?” he scoffed. I wanted to hit him but made do with swatting the air in front of him instead, my eyes on fire with fury. At least the tears were gone, I thought.

“Everything’s going to be fine. You won’t be kicked out of your home. I will make sure of that. And I have some news. But don’t get your hopes up, OK?”

It was my turn to demand answers. “Harvey, tell me,” I said as the first inklings of smile graced my face.

“Well, I reached out to some people who owed me a favour, and they got in touch with the right people at Bluelife Insurance, who have agreed to open the case back up and take a second look at the car wreckage. I was adamant that they send it to an unbiased, independent evaluator, a mechanic and engineer who specialises in this type of thing.”

I let out a sigh of relief, but the weight I felt on my shoulders didn’t loosen. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said gratefully and rushed towards him, threading my arms around his waist. “You don’t know how grateful I am for this,” I proclaimed and shot him a thankful look, “and what you do for me, the time you spend here, keeping me company and indulging me.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Besides,” he said and playfully poked me in the side, “when you’re not crying you’re a lot of fun.”

I giggled and sprang away from his touch as he started to tickle me.

“I’m sure you would do the same for me if I were in your position, anyway,” he continued.

“In a heartbeat. I’ll try to restrict the waterworks to when you’re not around. I just can’t help it. My emotions are all over the place these days.”

“I’m only teasing. Cry all you want. My shoulder’s right here for you,” he answered.

We spent the rest of the day hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. He insisted on doing a few jobs around the house for me despite my feeble protests.

“I can just call a plumber you know.”

“I’m here, though; you might as well use me. Plus it’s not like you can afford it.”

“Harsh, but true,” I replied.

I smiled at the sight of him hunched over, trying to fix the broken dishwasher, and I stifled a rush of giggles as I secretly drooled over his bare, muscular back. Not wanting to dirty his clothes, he’d stripped off his shirt to reveal a washboard of tanned abs, and instead he himself was becoming smeared with dirt and sweat. It was a delicious sight.

A dishcloth lay upon his thick shoulder, and beads of sweat glistened upon his skin as he worked. All of a sudden a squirt of water burst from the broken pipe, spraying him in the face. I didn’t bother smothering my laughter as he swore, his hair thoroughly soaked and his chest drenched. He turned around and patted his face with the clean towel I threw at him.

“I’m pleased you find amusement in my discomfort,” he said, grinning.

“You probably should’ve turned the water mains off first,” I teased.

“Ah. Yeah, that might’ve been wise.”

“You don’t know anything about dishwashers do you?” I said, feeling light and playful for the first time in days. I sat down cross-legged beside him on the floor and rested my chin upon a curled fist.

“Oh, ye of little faith. Now shh, let me think!”

I giggled and stayed quiet, watching intently as he prodded this gizmo and then the next, his fingers working within the tight space of the dishwasher’s mechanism. An hour passed before he managed to get it going and we heard the sound of whooshing water within the machine. I cheered him and he grinned, our eyes lingering upon one another. We were too close, our knees touching as we sat together on the floor. I could feel my heart beating in time with the swirling noise of dishwasher. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

“Your phone’s ringing,” I breathed, never taking my eyes from his.

“I know.” Then he looked away and fished it out of his pocket. He pressed a button on the keypad, got to his feet and paced into another room.

I stayed where I was and leaned against the kitchen cabinets, wondering if it was the mysterious Sadie calling him again. He never spoke about her, and I didn’t want to bring her up when he was here with me. I was content to lock out whatever he got up to when he wasn’t here. I didn’t need or want to know how many girls he shagged as soon as he left my house. It was none of my business. And if he didn’t feel the need to tell me or mention her, then that was fine with me.

He came back a moment later. His cheery, relaxed demeanour had been replaced with a serious one; he clenched his jaw and stared at me. Trying to break the silence, I teased, “Do you have to run off again? Is the girlfriend jealous of all the time you spend here?”

His face fell, his eyelids pausing a little longer than normal as he blinked. He didn’t answer my question. Instead, he told me to sit back down. He led me to a chair next to the dining table and took my hands in his.

“That was my father on the phone. Your mom passed away in her sleep this morning. He thought she was just having a lie-in. But when he went to take her some breakfast, she wasn’t breathing.”

“No. You’re kidding, right?” I blurted.

He shook his head. I tried to pull away, to reclaim my hands, but he held on tight. My eyes welled up with tears.

“No,” I repeated. “This isn’t happening. She can’t be dead, Harvey. Mom’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice calm and soothing.

I got to my feet and tried once again to yank myself free. “Let me go!” I shouted. “I don’t believe it. First Eric. And now my mom? What did I do to deserve this? Tell me, Harvey! What did I do?” I roared at him, and the countless tears slipped free and streamed down my face. And yet he wouldn’t let go. It seemed the more I shouted, the more I screamed at him, the tighter the hold he kept. “Let me fucking go!”

“No,” he stated and reeled me in like a thrashing fish, drowning in a sea of oxygen. His strong arms wrapped around me, and I buried my face into his bare chest.

“You didn’t do anything, Sara,” he whispered, as I cried. “You don’t deserve this.”

His fingers brushed my hair away from my sodden face as my self-control all but snapped, and I wept in his arms.

“It breaks my heart to see you like this.” Pulling me with him, Harvey sat down and eased me onto his lap, cradling me. His chin rested on top of my head as I nestled it into the crook of his neck. God, I felt so safe and yet so lost in that moment. My emotions on were on overload, each one warring and conflicting with the others.

I closed my eyes and confessed, “I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I knew my mom had a heart problem, but I was thoughtless, making her worry all the time about me, not going to see her. It’s all my fault… Everything’s always my fault. Eric might even be alive if I hadn’t teased him that morning. I brought it all upon myself. I practically egged him on.”

The dishwasher stopped its monotonous humming, and the air around us fell silent.

“What? Sara, what do you mean you egged him on?”

I stiffened in his arms. “Fuck, I’m losing everyone,” I muttered, not wanting to hear his question.

“You haven’t lost me. I’m not going anywhere.”

I pushed back from his embrace, inclined my head, and with puffy eyes and a red nose I said, “Promise me.”

He nodded and took me back in his arms. “I promise.”

I closed my eyes and continued to weep. Droplets fell from my chin and dripped onto his naked chest, mingling with his sweat. I don’t know how long we stayed like that, with my face buried in his neck and my body shaking in distress, but after a while he picked me up and took me upstairs.

“Harvey, put me down, I’m heavy,” I said, though I didn’t make any move to let go of his neck.

“Shh, you weigh nothing,” he answered.

Harvey pushed through to my bedroom door and laid me down onto the bed. With his sympathetic and understanding gaze—not one hint of pity, I noted—he stroked his thumb against my cheek.

“You’re exhausted; get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he said and made a move towards the wingback chair.

I nodded, bit my bottom lip and raised my eyes to his before he turned away, hoping he’d understand. “Harvey,” I whispered and held out my hand, wanting him to take it, yearning for him to hold me again, even just for a little while. Even if it was the most dangerous thing I could do.

He studied my extended hand, wavering slightly in front of him, deciding if he was going to take it.

“Come lie down beside me,” I pleaded and added, “please, I need you.”

Nodding his head, he pushed back the covers and slipped in alongside me. He reached for me, easing his arms underneath me, his front nestled against my back and bottom, his muscular biceps strong and entangled around me. He took me in his arms, holding me closer than ever before, only one layer of clothing between his naked body and my covered back. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.