Beast Brothers

"Thanks for having me over to your house, Tommy," I say. He just shrugs in reply, but he looks pleasant enough.

I know that Tommy lost his mom, George's wife, to cancer eight years ago. Tommy was only four. I wonder if he remembers her, and I wonder how he and his brother feel about my mom being in the picture. I haven't heard of any problems, or any acting out.

I try to think of what else to say to Tommy, but I'm at a loss. I almost ask him how he likes school, but I remember how much I hated that question when I was a kid. Why does everyone ask that question? And why can't I think of anything but that question?

I busy myself with the toaster, and I'm glad when the first batch pops up and I can occupy myself putting butter on the slices. Just as I'm slathering butter on the next batch, I hear sounds at the back of the house: A door closing, boots stomping, male voices talking. I look towards the hall at the other end of the kitchen and see George walk in, his cheeks ruddy from the cool morning air.

I smile at him and start to say "good morning" when the words catch in my throat. George's son is behind him. His tall, broad-shouldered, twenty-five-year-old son.

My “lucky” blouse doesn’t just need to be thrown away; it needs to be incinerated, never to be worn again.

Because George's son Billy is the Greek god muscle man from the bar last night.

Chapter 7

My eyes lock with Billy's. Billy. I nearly slept with a grown man who has the name of a boy.

I’m frozen in place, butter knife in hand. I lock eyes with Billy and notice that he doesn't look surprised at all. He has a bit of a smirk on his face that he's not bothering to hide. I narrow my eyes at him, but he just gives me a devilish grin. He drops his gaze slowly down my body and I feel naked in front of him, even though I'm wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Then the thought hits me: He knew who I was last night!

George is coming toward me, smiling warmly. He greets me, and then turns to introduce me to his son. Billy steps forward and holds out his hand to shake mine. I feel like slapping him rather than shaking his hand, but I know that I need to act as normal as possible in front of George and my mom. I'm relieved that Billy's acting like he's just now meeting me for the first time. That means he hasn't told them he saw me last night. I would die of embarrassment if they knew what went on.

I reach out to shake Billy's hand, and try to keep the contact as brief as possible, but he holds onto my hand and squeezes hard.

"Nice to meet you, Kate," he says.

It takes all of my self-control not to hurl a piece of toast at his head when he finally releases his grip on me. I quickly turn back toward the toaster, as if manning it is the most important task in the world. Blood has rushed to my cheeks, and my ears are burning. I almost slept with George's son. Would anyone notice if I just ran out to my car right now and left?

My mom taps my shoulder and I jump. "Two more slices should be plenty, Kate."

I butter the last pieces of toast as slowly as I possibly can. I try to think of an escape plan, and I consider feigning a stomachache; but I know I'd just be postponing the inevitable. I'm stuck here for the weekend with Billy, and I know I'll have to eat a meal with him at some point today, so I may as well just sit down and hope for the best.

Maybe we can both continue to pretend that we've just met, and the whole situation will be forgotten. Yeah, right.

I finally turn toward the table with a tall stack of toast on the plate in my hands. George and his sons are seated already; my mom is carrying a plate to Billy with two eggs on it. The wooden farmhouse table had seemed so large a few minutes ago when I'd first seen it. Now it seems much too small for the five of us. I take the seat next to Tommy, where I am unfortunately positioned right across from Billy.

"So you got in last night, Kate?" Billy says, as soon as I sit down.

"Yes."

"How was your trip here?" He stares right into my eyes as he takes a big bite of toast.

I want to kick him.

"Fine," I say.

"Kate was exhausted when she arrived," my mom pipes in, as if trying to compensate for my one-word answers.

"I'll bet," Billy says, still not taking his eyes off of me.

I can feel my face burning, and I'm so frustrated that Billy can see exactly how much he's getting to me. Last night I'd been sorry to have come off like a tease, but now I'm not sorry at all. I'm pissed. Why hadn't he told me who he was? How had he known who I was?

"Kate, honey, are you okay?" My mom is now staring at me too. "You look flushed. Do you think you might be coming down with something?”

Oh my god, I want to die. I really should have run out of here when I had the chance. "I'm just a little warm, Mom. I'm okay," I say.

She gets up to open the window, and I take a long drink of water while I watch Billy hold in his laughter. Thankfully, for most of the rest of the meal, Tommy is the center of attention, as George talks with him about baseball and school, and I have no idea what else. I eat as quickly as I can, hoping to get the ordeal over with, and I'm overcome with equal parts embarrassment and anger.

Just as I finish and am about to excuse myself, hoping it won't be considered rude to leave the table before anyone else, George and my mom exchange a look, then George clears his throat and speaks up in a slightly louder voice than he'd been using during the meal.

"We were going to wait until later to talk to the three of you," he starts. He scoots his chair back from the table, and looks slightly hesitant. My mom beams at him, and then turns to give me a warm smile.

"But since we're all here together," George continues, "I have an announcement to make. I'm very happy to tell you that I've asked Rebecca to marry me…" He takes my mom's hand in his. "And she's agreed. We're getting married." He leans over and gives my mom a quick kiss before they both turn and look expectantly at Billy, Tommy, and me.

I smile warmly at my mom and quickly offer my congratulations to her and to George. They both look so happy; I can't be anything but pleased for them.

Tommy says, "Wow, that's cool."

Billy is looking at our parents and congratulating them as well. Billy,

who's had his hands all over my body and his tongue down my throat. Billy, who deceived me before I even knew who he was. Billy, who's going to be my stepbrother.

Chapter 8

I finally escape the kitchen, taking the stairs in a hurry, but it’s no use because Billy is behind me. He corners me at the top of the landing and stands way too close to be appropriate.

"I wish I could've taken a picture. You should've seen your face when I walked in!" he says, his eyes flashing with amusement.

I have an impulse to shove him back down the stairs, but even if I was a violent person, I know I'd never be able to move his massive body. He may have the name of a little boy, but his body is all man.

“You knew who I was!" I sputter in a harsh whisper. The kitchen is far away in this big house, but I don't want to risk anyone hearing us.

"Yep. You stood out from the crowd in there," Billy says with a laugh. "Your mom showed me pictures of you, but you look even better in person."

I want to scream, but I know I can't. "How could you?!" I say.

"How could I?" he says, emphasizing the "I," and putting his hand on his chest. "How could I? You asked me to follow you outside, and then you jumped on me."

He's right. I kind of did that. "But I didn't know who you were!" I say.

"I've been wondering," he says, as he trails his eyes down my body, making me feel naked again. "Do you make a habit of picking up strangers in bars?"

I do try to shove him now, not down the stairs, but out of my way so I can get past him, but he is immovable. His muscles, which had attracted and fascinated me last night, are frustrating me beyond belief right now.

"Because picking up strangers can be dangerous," he says huskily. He’s starting to sound dangerous himself. He puts his hand on my side, and his touch makes the memory of last night more vivid. I push him again. I try to move toward my room but he's blocking my way.