My Bad Boys, My Stepbrothers Page 4

  How could she have been so wrong?

  “I saw what I wanted to see,” she said aloud. “That’s how it always goes.” Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. The plaster was cracked. The paint was flaking off. But that wasn’t why she was looking up. “Dad, what the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep falling for men who can’t love me?”

  Of course, she got no answer from him or anyone else for that matter. Knowing she was wasting time, she went to the old dumpy dresser standing under the window, scooped all her underwear into her arms and hauled it to the open suitcase. In that batch went, and she headed back to the dresser for the next armload. Within an hour, she had all the drawers and the closet empty.

  She ran into Sandy at the bottom of the stairs.

  Her stepmom took one look at the suitcase and asked, “Are you leaving us already?”

  “I’m just throwing this stuff in the car. I’m not abandoning you. I wouldn’t do that. But I can’t stay here anymore. There’s just...too many memories here for me.”

  “I understand.” Sandy motioned toward the kitchen. “After you’ve put your things in your car, why don’t you come have some coffee?”

  “Sounds great.” She lugged the heavy bag outside. She was sore. Strained muscles. Trying not to think about why her muscles were strained, she popped my trunk, and hefted it inside. That done, she went back inside for some much-needed caffeine.

  She found Sandy standing at the counter, a mug in her hand. “Candi, I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  Chapter 4

  “I know about the boys.” Sandy handed Candi the full cup in her hand and motioned to the tray of fresh baked muffins sitting on the counter. “Muffin?”

  Dumbstruck, Candi stared at the muffins. Had she just said...?

  She knew what about the boys?

  What did she know? Did she know...everything?

  Afraid to say a word, Candi grabbed what looked like a strawberry muffin in her free hand.

  “Plate?” Sandy set a small saucer on the counter, and Candi put her muffin on it. Then Sandy reached around her to get a muffin for herself and tipped her head toward the door. “How about we go outside? There’s a nice breeze at this time of day.”

  “Ssssure.” Feeling like she was being lured into a trap, Candi followed her stepmother outside. They settled in the pair of old creaky wooden chairs situated around a small table on the porch.

  A gentle breeze caught Candi’s hair, sending it whipping around her face. Sandy hadn’t been lying about that; the breeze was cool and smelled like freshly mown grass with a hint of something sweet thrown in. “This is really nice. I can’t believe I never sat out here to eat before.”

  “When you were young, you were too busy to slow down and enjoy anything.”

  That made her chuckle. “That hasn’t changed much. That’s part of the reason why I decided to move back home. My life has become too much of a blur. I wake, rush to work, rush around at work, rush home, rush off to nightclubs or parties with friends, and then I fall into bed, just to do it all again the next day.

  “I woke up one morning and asked myself why I was doing that to myself. I wasn’t enjoying any of it. Not the job. Not the parties. And I realized why. I was going through the motions.”

  Sandy’s expression was distant, as if she were looking far into the future, or maybe the past. “Ah yes, the hazards of living a big life in a big city. I know them well. Before I married your father, I was living a life similar to yours. I’m glad now that I took the dive when I did and got out. This is a much better way to live.” She sipped. The sounds of nature, bird song, insect churr and the distant bleat of sheep filled the silence. “Those boys grew up out here. They belong in the country. But they’re far from simple men. Far from it.” Sandy leveled her gaze at Candi.

  Candi wasn’t sure what Sandy was expecting her to say. Thus, she said nothing.

  “I made sure they’re educated,” Sandy continued. “They can find work anywhere if they wanted. They’ll be good providers. And they are loving men, not afraid of making a commitment and sticking with it.”

  “What are you trying to say to me?” Candi asked, squirming slightly in her chair. She set down her cup and pushed her plate away. Suddenly, she wasn’t so hungry, and this wasn’t so nice. It was awkward and uncomfortable. She hadn’t seen this coming. Not at all. If anything, she’d expected Sandy to be shocked.

  “Give them a chance,” Sandy said.

  “A chance to do what?”

  “They care for you. Deeply. And they need you.”

  Candi had no idea how to respond. She opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. No words would come out. Her face was heating up. She broke out in a sudden sweat. What could she say? She couldn’t tell Sandy her nephews were sadistic assholes. But that was exactly how she felt at the moment.

  “Is it that hard for you to believe I want to see my boys with someone who is good, who will make them happy?”

  Sandy couldn’t possibly know what they were like. “I suppose not,” Candi managed to stutter. “But...”

  “But you grew up with them. Is that what you’re trying to say? You were like a sister to them? It would be strange? Is that what you’re thinking? Is that why you’re leaving?”

  “Not exactly.” Candi decided to guzzle half her cup of coffee in one long series of gulps. Good thing it had cooled down a little. She might’ve scalded her throat if it hadn’t.

  “Did one of them hurt you?” Sandy asked.

  Candi had been mid-swallow when that question hit. The coffee that had been on its way down was sucked into her lungs and she sputtered a little.

  Sandy handed her a napkin. “You’re so flustered. I’m sorry. I guess I misread you. I didn’t think you’d be the kind to react like this to a simple conversation.”

  Simple? This discussion wasn’t exactly simple. “No, Cody and Justin didn’t...hurt me. It’s all very complicated--”

  “Then, they hurt your feelings--”

  “Please,” Candi interrupted, lifting a hand, palm out. “I can’t talk to you about this. It’s too weird. You’re their mother. My stepmother. No, I can’t.”

  “I see that now. Consider the subject dropped.” Sandy took a swallow from her cup and smiled. “Have you found a place to live yet?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Hmm.” Sandy lifted her cup to her mouth again. This time she studied Candi over the rim.

  “I’m sure I can find an apartment close by. Something inexpensive. I’m not picky.”

  “I have a friend who owns a few properties. They’re all very nice. I can see if he has any units available.”

  “Sure. That would be great. Thank you.”

  “That’s the least I can do, since you’ve been so kind, helping me clean out this huge house and getting it ready to put on the market. It’s so big. The boys want to move on, get their own places. I don’t need anything this huge. And I certainly don’t need all the upkeep a place like this requires. I’m looking forward to getting a nice little condo somewhere.”

  “That does sound wonderful.”

  Sandy stood. “Not that I won’t miss those boys. The noise. The companionship.” Her eyes looked a little sad, and for the first time, Candi wondered if Sandy was truly ready for this move. Somehow, she’d managed to keep the old farm house and barn from completely falling apart by herself for four long years. It was a lot of work. Candi could see why she’d need to find something easier, maintenance free. But maybe she was having a hard time leaving the memories. There were plenty of those in this house.

  Candi hadn’t been lying about that.

  Sandy stood, gathered her cup and saucer in her hands. “I’m going inside and pack up the kitchen. I don’t do a lot of cooking anymore. Better to clear out what I don’t need.”

  Candi’s gaze slid to the barn before winding back toward the house, and for the first time, she wondered if she was ready for this move. Once Sandy was gone, and the farm was sold, she’d n
ever again be able to wander into that barn, or swim in the pond. “I’ll be in to help in a few.”

  “Don’t hurry. Take your time. That’s why you’re here, remember? You’re done hurrying through life.”

  * * * * *

  After taking a long walk around the property, Candi spent hours working down in the cellar, digging through boxes and crates and plastic tubs full of old junk. By dinnertime, her eyes were burning from overexposure to dust, but the basement was almost empty and she felt like she’d accomplished a ton. Better yet, not once did either Dean brother come downstairs. When she was ready to quit for the day, she headed upstairs, grabbed some clean clothes from her car, took a quick shower, and changed. Once she was through, she followed the mouthwatering scent of fried chicken into the kitchen.

  Sandy was hustling around, getting dinner ready. “Looks like it’s just going to be the two of us tonight.” She motioned to the food sitting on the stove. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.” Candi grabbed a plate, dropped a thigh on it, added some mashed potatoes and corn and carried it to the table.

  Sandy jerked her head toward the door. “When I’m alone, I prefer to eat in the living room. That way I can get caught up on my shows.”

  “Sounds good.” Candi followed her stepmother into the cozy little living room.

  Sandy grabbed a wood folding table from the stand sitting against the wall, pulled it open and handed it to Candi. Then she opened one for herself, and once they had settled, remoted on the old analog television. She clicked through a menu, selected recordings and in the next instant, they were watching some young girl wearing a string bikini cry because The Bachelor hadn’t kissed her.

  It was lame, but it was a distraction. A welcome one. Candi and her stepmother munched and crunched, their eyes full of soft-porn images of The Bachelor swapping spit with his bachelorettes. After the final scene, in which crying bikini girl was sent home in a limo, Sandy excused herself to go take care of some errands, and Candi headed out to her car to go find herself a hotel room for the night. Just as she was about to pull out of the gravel circular driveway, Sandy came out of the house, waving her arms. Candi put the vehicle back into park and powered down the window.

  “I heard back from my friend,” Sandy said, leaning her head in the window. “He has a vacancy. It’s a nice little flat in Wyandotte. It isn’t quite ready--it’s being painted now--but you have first dibs if you’d like to take a look. Someone will be there to show it to you tomorrow morning, anytime after nine. As far as the rent goes, because he’s a good friend, he won’t take a security. Rent is negotiable.”

  “What does that mean, negotiable?”

  “He’s a very good friend.” Sandy handed over a piece of paper with the address and a phone number on it. “Take a look. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Thanks.” Candi put the paper in her purse for safekeeping, and off she zoomed, heading for the closest hotel with air conditioning.

  * * * * *

  The next morning it felt strange waking up in a hotel room, alone. She hadn’t been staying at Sandy’s house long, but it seemed she’d already grown accustomed to the sound of cooking and low rumble of conversation. Candi went down to grab some coffee and a bagel in the hotel’s small breakfast room. She took it back up to her room and watched the news while she ate then jumped in the shower. A little before nine, she headed out to her car, and pointed it toward the address Sandy had written out for her.

  Finding the house wasn’t difficult. She’d looked up the address on her cell phone before leaving the hotel. She drove around to the back where the owner had laid a concrete parking pad for the residents of the two flats. What remained of the lawn was nicely landscaped, tidy and neat, grass cut, no weeds. It looked like this owner had some pride in his properties. That was a very good sign.

  The entry for the upper flat, the apartment she was there to see, was located in the rear of the house, facing the parking lot. She knocked. Within a few seconds, she heard the heavy thump, thump, thump of footsteps descending what she guessed was a narrow, steep wooden staircase. The door’s lock rattled and in the next second, she was locking eyes with Justin.

  “What?” She staggered backward slightly at the shock, and found herself teetering on the edge of the tilted concrete slab. Justin caught her arm, pulling her upright.

  “We’d better fix that,” he said, pointing at the slab.

  Her tongue untangled itself. “Did Sandy set this up?”

  “I guess you could say that, but it’s not what you think.” Standing in a tiny space the size of a broom closet, he motioned her toward the stairs. “Go on up. The place is almost ready. We’re finishing up the paint.”

  Trying not to notice how sexy Justin looked in his snug t-shirt and jeans, she put as much space between her body and his as she side stepped past him, but it wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot. Despite her lingering hurt and anger over what happened yesterday, little tingles buzzed through her system, igniting her nerves, making parts all over her body warm. She fought to gain control, grabbing the handrail and clomping up the stairs. “You work for the landlord?”

  “We’ve been working for him for over ten years.”

  “Oh. She could’ve warned me.”

  “Sure. But she probably thought you wouldn’t show up if you knew we’d be here.”

  “I’m not that immature.”

  “I’m not suggesting you’re immature.”

  She stopped at the door at the top of the stairs. “Two doors? Do they both lock?” She glanced over her shoulder, decided that wasn’t such a good idea, after seeing how close Justin was standing, and turned back around to face the door at the top of the steps.

  “They do. You’ll be plenty safe here.”

  “That part’s nice. How is the neighborhood?”

  “Most of the homes are single family. Not a lot of rentals. We’ve had no problems since we started working on the building a month ago. Cody probably locked it.” He reached around her to check. That put him much too close for comfort. So near, she was tempted to lean back, into his warmth, which was insane.

  What was wrong with her?

  “That’s good to hear,” she heard herself say.

  He twisted the knob and pushed, and the door swung open.

  It was none too soon. She’d felt her weight shifting slightly, the scents of his skin and soap drawing her closer, closer.

  Chapter 5

  Candi stepped up into what looked like a spacious dining room-living room combo. Several windows lined the far wall, flooding both spaces with ample light. The wood floors looked brand new, but with the narrow planks, she assumed they were original. And there was gorgeous trim everywhere, around the windows, at the floor and ceiling.

  But as great as the place looked, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the two gorgeous brothers. They were both wearing snug black t-shirts and jeans. Their clothes were worn, the denim covered with splotches of paint. Their shaggy, wavy hair was mussed. But they had never looked better. She hated that.

  “We’ve tried to keep some of the nicer original architecture intact.” Justin motioned to the columns separating the living and dining spaces. Cody picked up a paint roller and went back to work, applying a fresh coat of white paint to the ceiling. The motion of pushing and pulling that long handled paint roller did amazing things for his arms and shoulders. “These aren’t original¸ but we took them from another house we were renovating,” Justin said, motioning her to follow him through the dining room.

  “They look like they’ve always been here.” Trying to pretend she wasn’t staring at Justin’s scrumptious body, she ran her hand down the smooth curved surface of the column.

  “When we do a renovation, we try to balance the needs of the client with the building’s architecture.” Justin said, sounding very proud. He had good reason. The place was gorgeous.

  “You’re very talented. I had no idea.”

  “It was your father who taught us,�
�� Cody said, lowering the paint roller to the pan to dunk it in the paint. “He taught us everything we know. He had an incredible gift for woodworking, but he also knew a fair amount about plumbing, heating and cooling, and electrical.”

  “Really? I knew he was handy, but I had no idea he was this handy.” Ironically, the house he’d shared with Sandy had remained almost completely original. He’d talked about converting the smallest bedroom into a bathroom once, but he abandoned that idea. And that had been that. The walls were painted a safe, boring beige, the wood floors left in their original gouged and creaky condition, and the drafty windows sealed with taped on plastic sheets in the winter, rather than changed out for newer, energy saving ones.

  As if he read her mind, Justin laughed. “Yeah. The house was pretty much a wreck. I don’t think he had the heart to change anything. There was a lot of history in that place. And he didn’t want to erase it all.”

  “So how did he teach you how to do all of this? When?”

  “He bought his first rental property fifteen years ago,” Cody said.

  “He did? That long ago?” All this time, Candi had thought her father was a chemist, working for a local manufacturer of industrial solvents and cleaners.

  Justin nodded. “At one point, he’d owned over thirty properties.”

  “He left the business to us,” Cody added. “But there was one condition. If you ever needed a place to live, we would provide a home for you at no cost.”

  This was mind blowing. Her father, the chemist, had owned over thirty rental properties? He was a business owner?

  “The income is split three ways,” Justin told her. “Your share, which is a sixth--you and Sandy share equal parts of your father’s third--has been accumulating in a trust, set up by your father before he died.”