Wanting My Stepsister - Page 3

I pull my eyes away from him, back to Nicole. “But I don’t even like him like that.”

“Just flirt with him. It’s fun,” she pushes.

I tap my cowboy boot, thinking about what she’s saying. Maybe I should flirt with him. Even my mom has been asking me when I’m going to start dating. I thought parents were supposed to keep you from doing that. It’s hard to even think about dating when I know my heart will always belong to someone else. It doesn’t seem fair to string someone along.

I wonder for the millionth time if Jasper dates. I’m sure he does. When he comes home every holiday, I get a knot in my stomach thinking he’s going to show up with some woman. They probably throw themselves at him. Heck, I want to throw myself at him. Only I have no idea how to do that. I don’t even know how to dress to attract a man.

“Give me your lipstick,” I tell Nicole, making her smile.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube. I take it from her and put it on. I grab the glasses from my face and blink a few times, but then change my mind and slide them back on. I’ll just fall on my face without them and confirm to everyone that I have no idea what I’m doing. I really should try the contacts I have, but I feel strange without my glasses. I’ll walk over to Owen and flirt and see what happens. Practice. Like when I’m trying out a new recipe, I have to practice a few times. So when Jasper finally comes back to town, I can make sure he gets the best.

I grab the pie and start to make my move, but Owen is already on his way towards me. I smile as big as I can. His eyes go to my legs, and I remember what I’m wearing. I stand still as his gaze wanders up my body, finally landing on my face.

“That for me?” he says, coming to stand in front of me. I glance down at the box in my hand, wishing it wasn’t one with hearts on it.

“It’s apple.” I say, shrugging.

“Your apple pie is my favorite, Libby.”

It doesn’t sound like he’s talking about my apple pie from the diner. I stand there, unsure what to say, feeling completely uncomfortable. I push the pie towards him, and he takes it. Then he brings his hand to my cheek, and I flinch.

“You got a little something,” he explains as his thumb slides along my cheek.

I see a bit of white dust and realize it’s either flour or sugar. I was working with both this morning. He starts to bring his thumb to his mouth when a hand reaches out, grabbing him by the wrist.

“Jasper,” I whisper into the quiet as a look of anger burns in his blue eyes.

2

Jasper

I grip the steering wheel tighter as I watch Libby take off her flannel shirt and tie it around her waist. Thank God she’s covering those Daisy Dukes she’s got on. When the fuck did she get those? It’s not right for a girl her age to be wearing something like that. Fuck that. Those are things you should wear at home for a man who would get on his knees and be thankful for you doing so, not just anyone on a street.

I think about getting out of my truck and helping her carry in those boxes, but I see her friend Nicole with her and I don’t want to intrude. The last thing she wants is for her brother to butt in. Step-brother. I remind myself as I watch the two of them carry the boxes into the Sunshine Diner.

When my dad told me he was going to marry Carol, I was so happy for him. I could tell how happy he was with her. I’d met her briefly before their wedding, but I knew my dad was in love with her from day one. They had a quick courtship, and then they eloped, saying that they couldn’t spend another moment apart. I understand that all too well, but there isn’t a happily ever after in store for me.

The first time I saw Libby was the day they moved in. She was standing on my front porch carrying a suitcase. I was a little shocked that I’d be getting a sister at the age of sixteen, but I was kind of excited by the idea. It had always been my dad and me. I’d wanted a sibling, and I was getting one. But when I saw her there, so many emotions hit me at once. I’d reached out that day and taken her suitcase from her hand, but was unable to get a single word past my lips. She looked like an angel. I’d never seen something as pretty as her before. Our parents stood there, waiting on us to say something to one another, but I couldn’t.

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