From
Half My Blood
Copyright © 2015 by Lauren Gilley
No, there weren’t a lot of guys in her past, because
she’d been focusing all her energy on working, getting her education, and
taking care of her family.
Not
that Erin appreciated that.
Not
that men did, either. She’d dated casually, and she’d had sex just enough times
to need to count it on two hands, and now she had this thing – whatever it was
– with fellow professor Doug Schaffer at school. But she hadn’t entertained a
full-on crush, a longing, a desire for anyone since high school.
Since
she’d endured an unrequited girlhood passion for Aidan Teague.
Well
fuck him and his motorcycle. She didn’t have a thing for bad boys anymore.
And
she had papers to grade.
**
“I
wish,” Ava continued, “that he could see this as a positive thing, because he
thinks his whole family’s dead, and turns out, he has a relative after all. I
think it could be really good for him. But he hates Colin.”
“Well,”
Sam said, “there’s hate, and then there’s hate. If Colin did something
really awful to him, that’s one thing. But if it’s just personality clashing,
maybe he can get over it.”
“Maybe.
“And
I have a real hard time imagining anyone doing anything really awful to your
husband and living to tell the tale.”
Ava
snorted. “Yeah.”
The
sound of a motorcycle engine cut through the afternoon, distant and growing louder.
Ava cocked her head, listening as it drew closer. “My brother,” she said
decisively, and popped a chip into her mouth.
It
shouldn’t have, but Sam’s stomach shriveled into a little ball, her appetite
fleeing. She forced herself to swallow the bite of sandwich in her mouth and
reached for her Coke, taking a tentative sip. She shouldn’t care at all the
Aidan was approaching the house. She didn’t, in fact. Nope, not at all. Her
pulse was not knocking against her eardrums, and her palms were not
suddenly clammy.
As
the growl of the Harley grew louder, punching as the bike rolled over the curb
into the driveway, Ava stood. “I better go let him in.”
Sounds
of the bike shutting off. Ava’s bare feet on the hardwood. The back door
opening.
“Why
are you here?” Ava.
“Dude,
can’t you just say, ‘Good to see you’?” Aidan.
Boots
coming in, door shutting, footfalls returning.
“No,
but really,” Ava said as brother and sister entered the kitchen.
Sam
sent her gaze skittering across the kitchen, fixing it to a white cabinet face
across from her. It was an automatic reaction, one she kicked herself for
mentally. An old habit from her teen years that it turned out she hadn’t shaken
– don’t stare boldly at the cocky, swaggering, dark-haired outlaw boy with the
gorgeous chocolate-colored eyes. Just act cool and natural, and like she didn’t
know he existed – then ogle him from the corner of her eye when he sat down.
God,
I’m pathetic.
She
was also thirty now, so she hitched up her shoulders and purposefully turned her
face back to the siblings. She wasn’t just some girl in Aidan’s class these
days; she was his sister’s friend, and she had every right to be here.
“…borrow
his .30-0-6,” Aidan was saying. He opened the door of the fridge, leaned in and
plucked a beer off the top shelf. As he did so, his wallet chain swung forward,
catching sunlight in fast glimmers. His cut had that chafed, weather-beaten
look of leather that was used hard and not worn for fashion, the patches dusty
and faded. Sam stole a look at his ass as he was bent forward at the waist, and
silently wished he didn’t wear his jeans so baggy.
“It’s
in the safe,” Ava said beside him. “I’ll go get it.”
Aidan
twisted the top off his beer and flicked it onto the counter, took a long pull,
head tilted back, throat working as he swallowed.
Sam
told herself, aggressively, that it didn’t matter if thirty looked damn good on
the man, she was not interested.
“I
can get it,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “It’s in the
bedroom closet?”
“First
off,” Ava said, holding up one finger, “Merc doesn’t want anyone knowing the
combination to the safe. And two” – second finger – “do you really want to go
pawing through my closet?”
“He
doesn’t want anyone knowing the combination?” Aidan repeated with apparent
disbelief. “Don’t you know it?”
“It’s
in my house, so yes, I know it. And it’s nothing personal against you – it’s
just his policy. This is a home thing, not a club thing.”
Sam
had her bite her lip to keep from laughing. Aidan’s expression was a hilarious
blend of indignant, wounded, and doubtful. Like he was wondering when the hell
his little sister had turned into this adult who was someone’s wife and most
trusted confidant. By all rights, Aidan’s face was one of those severe,
laser-cut ones that shouldn’t have been capable of much emotion, but that had
never been true. He was dramatically expressive, even with those cruel, slanted
eyebrows.
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