Stepbrother Studs Daren

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  High school senior, Moxie, agrees to be moral support for her friend, Patches, who is totally enamored with a college boy, so she says yes to a double date, even though she has to lie to her parents to do it. But Moxie wasn’t counting on lying about her age to get into an x-rated movie, and she definitely wasn’t counting on her date’s Roman hands and Russian fingers, or the fact that the pants she’s borrowed from Patches are several sizes too small. By the end of the night, Moxie finds herself in far more trouble than she bargained for!

  Table of Contents

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Stepbrother Studs: Daren

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  Lacey can’t believe her younger stepbrother, Daren, is leaving in the fall to join the Navy.

  Who is she going to argue with?

  Whose shoulder is she going to cry on when he’s gone?

  Since their parents married ten years ago, the stepsiblings have been the best of frenemies, and she doesn’t quite know what she’s going to do without him.

  Lacey plans a goodbye picnic by the lake, but their last, private summer swim turns into something neither of them could have expected.

  Stepbrother Studs: Daren

  By Selena Kitt

  CHECK OUT MORE IN THIS SERIES:

  Stepbrother Studs: Aaron

  Stepbrother Studs: Brian

  Stepbrother Studs: Cameron

  “Can you turn that down a little?” Daren glared at her, scribbling something down in his notebook.

  “Can you not be a dick?” Lacey picked up the remote, turning the sound down one tiny, insignificant notch.

  He raised his eyebrows at her, like he was actually surprised by her overreaction, and she stuck her tongue out at him. So maybe it was an overreaction. So what? She wasn’t allowed to overreact? She reached across her stepbrother for a bowl of chips on the end table beside him.

  Daren shifted and made a face but didn’t take his attention off his book. There was another whoop from the audience as Oprah revealed that everyone had a gift under their seat. Whoopee, good for them, Lacey thought 53642.70 ¸ everyone but me gets lucky.

  She saw Daren set his jaw, shaking his head slightly.

  Lacey crunched on the potato chips as loudly as she could, staring at Oprah as if totally absorbed by something she had never seen before—a rags to riches story and the heroic overcoming of personal tragedy. Who would have guessed?

  Daren glanced at her again, a sideways look and she glared at him some more, shoving a whole handful of chips into her mouth, making sure to keep it open while she chewed even louder. He blew a bit of hair out of his eyes, returning to his work with renewed indifference. It was clear his powers of concentration were prodigious. He was certainly cut out for the trade he was studying for.

  She licked salt off her fingers, feeling the sting of it in a paper cut. But that was nothing compared to the pain she was trying to hide from her younger stepbrother as he bent his head studiously over the books she wanted to kick to the floor. She wanted to stay in a nice, easy state of denial, not believing he was actually going to leave in the fall to join the Navy. But the closer it got, the more real it became.

  He was going to abandon her.

  Daren had delighted and exasperated Lacey for the ten-ish years they’d known each other. She was always ready to let him know the latter, while she kept the former quite to herself.

  He’d entered her world as a stranger, forced upon her when his dad married her mom, but it hadn’t turned out so bad. I mean, he could be a jerk, and a pain in her ass, but he always made her smile, even when he was pissing her off.

  What was she going to do without her favorite frenemy?

  What was she going to do without her “Spock?” They both enjoyed the re-runs of the old TV show, and she had nicknamed him thusly because of his rational and disciplined personality, in stark contrast to her own. “Spock,” in turn, had cast Lacey as a “Klingon war queen”—wild, impulsive, and a little dangerous. Once, he had stumbled into the bathroom by accident when she was shaving her legs and had teased her about “preparing for battle.”

  Only gradually, as Daren’s ambitions to join the Navy solidified, had Lacey realized there might be a rival for her affections. It was his dad’s fault. He’d been the one who had first taken them out to learn how to sail when she was about fourteen, and while she had a hard time keeping starboard and port straight, Daren had proven himself a natural sailor. A future at sea for him seemed inevitable.

  So now here he sat surrounded with books on radio wavelengths and antennae, including flow charts and circuit diagrams, plotting to leave her. The jerk. He was as methodical about studying as he was about the best way to coil a rope, to fix a sail, or hoist an anchor.

  Truth was, she hadn’t even intended to come in here. She had stuff to do upstairs, her own books to hit, but when she’d peeked in, his air of industrious self-sufficiency irked her beyond words. So now here she was, watching Oprah congratulate her distinguished guest for something or other, the audience whooping in appreciation.

  Lacey pivoted on the couch, putting her legs on Daren’s lap, forcing him to lift his book and put it on Lacey’s legs.

  “Hey!” He didn’t even look over at her. “I’m trying to study.”

  “Sor-ry!” She rolled her eyes.

  “What’s got into you?”

  “I can watch Oprah, can’t I?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Why are you in such a bad mood?”

  “Uh… me? Bad mood? I think the mood I’m in is called ‘trying to study.’ My test is coming up. You know how much the Navy means to me.”

  “Don’t let me stop you.” She threw up her hands. “I’m just watching TV. Is that okay with your navy?”

  Daren muttered something Lacey didn’t quite catch.

  “You think this room belongs to you?” she snapped. “It’s a den, not a library.”

  “I seem to recall being here first. I was doing just fine ’til you came along.”

  “I was here first!” Lacey mimicked him, sarcastically impersonating a petulant child. It wasn’t really a fair or accurate portrayal, but all was fair in love, war, and sibling arguments.

  “Okay…” Daren took a deep breath, as if heroically summoning the last patience left in the world. “I’ll just take my books…”

  “You stupid jerk!” She couldn’t take it anymore. Not another minute. She wanted to cry, but instead she yelled at him. “You think you’re so superior with your radio crap and your Morris code…”

  “It’s Morse code.” His lips twitched.

  “Fuck you!” Lacey jumped off the couch, knocking the book out of Daren’s hand. The bowl of potato chips went flying too, just for good measure.

  “Di-di-dah-dit, dih-dih-dah, dah-di-dah-dit, dah-dih-dah.” D
aren was translating Lacey’s insult into code as he coolly picked his book up from the floor.

  Lacey threw a pillow at him and stomped out of the room, shouting out the open window at their parents—they were out back planting flowers or something—that Daren was being a snotty little baby dick again, before heading up to her room.

  She threw herself on her bed, face down, and buried her head in her pillow. Maybe she just needed a nap. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She listened to Daren snoring in the room next to hers half the night. Sometimes, when she walked by, headed to the bathroom, she’d see him in the moonlight, arm thrown over his head, sheets snagged around his waist, his broad, muscled chest bare, rising and falling with his breath.

  He might have to study for his radar test, but he wasn’t going to have to do much to pass basic training, that was for sure. Her stepbrother was ripped, and he didn’t even work out. Years of sailing had made him both tanned and toned.

  Lacey looked up at the sound—a careful knock on her bedroom door.

  “What?” she snapped. Daren opened the door and peeked in. “What do you want?”

  “Are we gonna talk about this, or what?” He came in and she turned her face to the wall when he sat on the bed beside her.

  “Talk about what?” Lacey feigned surprise. “You being such a dick? What’s there to talk about?”

  “You know damn well…” Daren sighed. “Lacey, come on.”

  “That den doesn’t belong to you, you know.” She wasn’t ready to give up any ground yet.

  “Come on, don’t play games. This is me you’re talking to. What’s up with you?”

  Lacey sniffled but didn’t turn to face him.

  “I can read you like one of my textbooks,” he went on. “It’s not like I’m not familiar with your little performances.”

  “Little performances!” she cried, turning over and sitting up to glare at him, wagging her finger. “You…”

  “Hang on, hang on.” He grinned, taking her slight shoulders in his big hands.

  “Jerk.” She stuck her tongue out at him, realizing too late that he’d intentionally provoked her, just to get her to turn and face him. It was a lot harder to keep up the ruse when she was looking into his dark, concerned eyes.

  “Look…” His tone turned softer, his too-long curly dark hair falling to the side as he cocked his head at her. They were gonna shave all that gorgeous hair off, she realized. The thought made her ache. “I can guess. You’re not happy about me leaving to join the Navy.”

  “No.” She sniffed, finally confessing. “I’m not.”

  “Look. I’ll miss you too.” His grip on her shoulders tightened as he leaned in closer. “Don’t think I won’t. It isn’t easy for me either. But I’ll write you all the time. It won’t be so bad.”

  “Writing. Sure.” She sniffed again, not looking at him. If she met his eyes, she was going to just burst into tears. “You know how good I am at that writing stuff. Not.”

  “But I am.” He reached out to touch her chin, his fingers calloused, turning her face to his. “How many letters do you want a week? I’ll write one every day if you want. Twice a day.”

  She shook her head, a growing lump in her throat, not answering him. She couldn’t.

  “Lace,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

  Fuck. She couldn’t.

  But then she did. And the tears started to fall.

  “Oh Lace.” He caught one of her tears with his thumb, spreading salt on her quivering lower lip, before pulling her into his arms.

  He was so solid and strong, she couldn’t help herself. She put her arms around him and sobbed. He held her close, rocking her, kissing the top of her dark head. It was strange, how alike they looked, even though they weren’t related. People always mistook them for real siblings.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.” Her voice was muffled against his t-shirt. “You’ll be gone so long…”

  “It won’t be so bad,” he soothed, the rumble of his deep voice against her ear reassuring, even if she didn’t want it to be. “I’ll call you every chance I get. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  “No, you won’t.” She clung to him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering sigh. She hadn’t even been letting herself think about it, let alone cry about it. But now it had burst, like a dam. The waterworks had started and she couldn’t turn them off.

  “Ah, Lace, it’s gonna be so much worse for me.” He sighed, his fingers moving through her hair, petting her. “You know that, right?”

  “For… for you?” she sputtered. “How so?”

  “I’ll have trouble sleeping, for one.”

  “Why?” she sniffled. Funny, she’d been thinking the same thing. How was she going to sleep without him in the next room, snoring away?

  “Every night when you sing in the shower I listen…” he confessed. Then, he went on, typical Daren, “Because it sounds so good when you stop.”

  “You idiot.” She laughed, even through her tears, feeling his arms tightening around her, a satisfying squeeze.

  “It helps me sleep.” He grinned when she lifted her head to look at him.

  “I must look awful.” She rubbed at her swollen nose and stinging cheeks.

  “You always look beautiful.”

  She cocked her head at him, looking for the mirth in his eyes, but there wasn’t any. They were dark, serious, and full of emotion. Was he really going to miss her too?

  “Are you…” She reached her hand out, brushing hair out of his eyes. “You’re really going to go?”

  He nodded, looking sad, but determined. Damn him. Had she really thought she was going to talk him out of it? Of course not. But she really didn’t know what she was going to do without him.

  “They’re going to cut your hair.” She ran her hand through it, thick and dark and curly. Hers was bone straight. What she wouldn’t give for hair like that. Guys always got lucky with hair and eyelashes.

  “It’ll grow back.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “And I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

  “If you say so.” She took a shuddering breath, knowing how doubtful she sounded.

  He hugged her again, kissing the top of her head, lips brushing her hairline.

  “Now, I gotta go study.” He sighed, sitting back, holding her at arm’s length now, as if she were posing too much temptation.

  “Okay, fine,” she said, but she was smiling. His words, I’ll come back to you, had left her feeling warm and a little tingly. “Go study, Spock. Just remember to take a break now and then. I don’t want to see smoke coming out of your pointy little ears.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” He gave her a little salute as he got up off the bed.

  “Hey.” She grabbed his hand, tugging gently. “Can you take a break from your busy studying schedule on Sunday? I have a surprise for you.”

  “You bet.” He smiled—the boy had a dazzling smile—squeezing her hand before dropping it, turning to leave.

  “You could pack me in your suitcase,” she called, smiling when he stopped at the door. “I’m little. I’d fit.”

  “It’s a thought.” He grinned back. “But you know I can’t.”

  “Why not? Afraid some sailor boy will steal my heart… or worse?” She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “I’m only worried about you with half the sailor boys,” he confessed, glancing her up and down with those dark, knowing eyes. “Well, and half the sailor girls too.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell…” Daren ducked and laughed as Lacey threw a pillow at him. It sailed past, out into the hallway.

  “I know you, Sis!” he called back over his shoulder. “I’d be more worried about the Navy than about you… think of my career!”

  * * * *

  It was a two-hour drive to Echo Lake. They had passed the time alternating between listening to The White Stripes, playing the license plate game, and sitting in a comfort
able silence. For Lacey, being with Daren wasn’t just easy—it was like home. That was the problem, she realized, when she turned the car up the long driveway. Daren would be taking her “home” with him when he left. And where did that leave her?

  The lake had long been their favorite place in the world. It was very secluded, and could be reached directly by only one narrow road that ran around part of its edge. The lake itself was connected via a narrow passage to the much larger Lake Beecher, which attracted more boats and land-lubbing tourists. Their crafts hugged the larger lake’s edge, avoiding the mystery and challenge of the passage to Echo Lake.

  Typical tourists assumed there could be nothing much down there, just an aquatic dead end. And so they missed Echo Lake, most of them, and its relative privacy and mystery were what were so important to Lacey and Daren. Here they had spent many summers sailing, or just lying on the beach and going for long walks.

  Funny how it had been sailing that first really brought the two together, showing so much of the differences in their character. Lacey was the kind of sailor who would seize the tiller with reckless abandon. She could foolishly get into a tight spot, but usually get out of it. Had she ever gone so far as to pilot some larger vessel, she would likely have given her passengers a few unnecessarily hair-raising moments, but bring them through safely, nonetheless.

  Daren, on the other hand, was in impeccable sailor. He knew and followed the rules of the sea. Wind and waves were things he studied with respect, but he had a natural feeling for them, too. His first literary love had been Moby Dick, which he read and got excited about at an early age. He could still quote the damned thing. Which made her both smile and roll her eyes.

  The thing was, Daren could also read her in much the same way: her currents, her weather, her tendency to break into an unexpected, air-clearing storm. Daren had always been the one who could calm her down. He was the only man she’d ever met who could stand in the midst of her storm without flinching.