Chapter 7

SEVEN

Fuck me.

When I showed up here after my brother basically fired me, I didn't expect to see Adeline wearing nothing but an old Nirvana T-shirt, her long, bare legs on display.

Heat shot straight to my groin, and my cock twitched.

She's my best friend's little sister. These aren't reactions I should be having when I look at Adeline. The last time I saw her, she was the sweet eleven-year-old, yelling at me for embarrassing her in front of the entire country club. She's two years younger than the age I was when we last saw each other. I begin doing the math in my head, having never thought about it before. I'm twelve years older than her. My mind is at war with itself when she opens a cabinet and reaches for two plates. Her T-shirt rises, exposing the bottom curves of her round ass.

I avert my gaze and pick up my phone, pretending to scroll through social media. Silently telling myself to calm down, I bounce my leg nervously under the counter. As if she has sensed my reaction, she places the plates in front of me.

I look up as she crosses her arms over her chest again, hiding her pebbled nipples.

"Um, I'm going to go change." Her cheeks redden. "I'll be right back."

I grin. "Okay."

She disappears, and when she comes back, she's wearing the sweater I saw her in this morning and a pair of shorts. I sigh with relief, even if the shorts still show off her toned legs.

Flashing me a quick closed-mouth smile, she grabs the loaf of bread and the new jar of peanut butter from the cabinet before dropping them near the plates she set out. She opens the fridge and pulls out a jar of strawberry jam along with two sodas.

I catch the can she slides over to me before she starts on our sandwiches.

"I didn't buy any fluff," she says while tearing off the seal to the peanut butter. "I hope you like strawberry jam."

"Strawberry is fine. I'm surprised you didn't buy fluff. Peanut butter and fluff sandwiches are a New England staple."

She shrugs, digging the butter knife into the peanut butter and smearing it across a slice of bread. "I never ate them too much when I was a kid, and they aren't exactly popular out in LA. Or the diet of a model."

"Yeah, I never really eat them when I'm away from home," I say, watching her squeeze the two slices of bread together.

She cuts the sandwich diagonally down the middle and passes the plate to me. I don't start eating immediately, instead waiting for her to finish making hers.

"Do you still do a lot of traveling?" she asks, smearing a large glob of jam onto her bread before she pauses and looks at me. "I mean, I'm only going off what Archer used to tell me."

"I do." I nod, careful with my words.

I don't want to dive into my history too much. Our conversation has been lighthearted, considering we haven't spoken in years. When I left Lennon's office, I considered where to go. My plans to travel to Barcelona for work may have been suddenly squashed. Technically, I still could have gone—perks of having an endless amount of money at your disposal—but my conversation with my brother soured the idea of traveling. I couldn't stay at Lennon's after our talk in his office. I didn't want to barge in on Jude and Victoria, considering they're adjusting to life with a newborn when they already have three other children at home.

I love my brothers, but sometimes when I'm around them, they are constant, living reminders of where I should be at this phase in my life. The path I could have taken had I not fucked it all up.

It's as if we were all walking down the road side by side until, one day, I'm suddenly staring at their backs. Both are married with children now. Lennon is head of the company. Jude is doing what makes him happy, helping Victoria run her bookstore while dabbling in construction every now and then.

"What's your favorite place you've ever been to?" Adeline asks, interrupting my thoughts.

She pushes her plate to my side of the counter, then walks around the island to join me before sliding into the barstool beside me.

I don't have to think long on my answer. "Ireland. When I was twenty-five, Archer and I took a few weeks off work and decided to backpack our way across the country. We made it a point to hit every single tourist attraction but got lost along the way in a small village. They had the most welcoming people. It ended up being the best trip I ever took. I think because, for once, I was traveling for fun, not work."

"I've always wanted to go to Ireland." She grins, picking up half of her sandwich.

I do the same, taking a bite. The combination of flavors hits my mouth in a way I don't expect. It's comforting and delicious. I can't remember the last time I ate this for a meal.

"You should go," I tell her around the peanut butter glued to the roof of my mouth.

She shakes her head and looks down at her plate. "I don't really have the time or money for a trip like that." She looks up and smiles. "Maybe one day."

"If you ever had the opportunity"—I swallow another bite—"where would you want to go?"

She doesn't hesitate in her answer. "The cliffs of Moher." She's clearly been dreaming about this for a while. "And don't tease me, but the Blarney Stone."

I roll my eyes. "Such a touristy thing to do."

"I know, I know." She sweeps her tongue across her lip to collect a dot of jam. "I just think it would be fun."

"I assumed you would have had time to travel."

"Why would you assume that?" Her perfect eyebrows pinch together.

"Don't models go to Paris and London? Places like that."

She considers my question while picking at a crumb on her plate. "I didn't quite make it there yet." She gives me a weak, unamused smile. "After I left home and headed out west, I tried my best to follow in my mother's footsteps. She refused to help, not offering me a foot in the door or connecting me with anyone in the industry. I guess because she didn't want me to end up like her." Her eyes shift, avoiding looking at me as she mutters under her breath, "Whatever that means." She inhales a deep, cleansing breath, finally bringing her gaze back to mine. "Anyway, after I left home, I fought tooth and nail to get to where I was."

I raise my eyebrows. "And where are you now?"

She cracks a smile that stretches all the way to her eyes. "Now, I'm sitting here eating peanut butter and jellies with you."

I laugh, and after that, we sit in silence, taking a few more bites of our sandwiches before drinking sips from our sodas.

"It's funny." She eyes me over her sandwich as I take another bite. I hadn't noticed the way her eyes shimmer under the dim light. A mixture of caramel and brown, with flecks of sage green.

"What's funny?"

"Watching a billionaire eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." She giggles.

I chuckle, too. "I may be a billionaire, but my mom raised me to never take the small things for granted. Although she wanted it to be known I was my father's son, she never shied away from raising me as normal as possible. You didn't exactly grow up in a modest household," I point out. "Your father was district attorney. I'm not sure what the lifestyle of a model is like, but I'm guessing it isn't too far off from the life you had here, right?"

Her eyes shoot to her right. They soften, and from where I'm sitting, I can see liquid building along her dark lashes. The curves of her cheeks blush with pink again, but this time it isn't embarrassment. There's sadness in her expression. She looks down at her plate as pieces of her hair slip from behind her ear, shielding parts of her face from me.

I resist the urge to reach out and tuck them back.

She sniffs, turning her head back to look at me. "No, it wasn't much different."

I consider my next words. I didn't question Archer when he asked if his sister could stay here at my house, but now that she's sitting in front of me, and she's gotten my mind off my own shit, I decide to ask her.

"So, what brought you back here?" I ask. "What brought you back home?"

She sighs and looks down at her plate. She's only taken one bite out of her sandwich. "I needed a break, that's all."

The irony isn't lost on me.

I didn't choose my break from work.

Adeline chose this.

Somewhere deep in my chest, I know her reason runs deeper than what she's willing to divulge, but I don't press her for more information.

"I guess you could say I'm on a break as well."

"Oh." She blinks, seeming unsure of what to say. "I hope it's a break you wanted or needed."

"Maybe." I glance out the window overlooking the backyard. It needs a lot of work. Lennon was right when he suggested I needed to fix this place.

But the claws in my mind remind me why I haven't yet.

Despite having never truly stayed here, this house represents the death of a dream, which is exactly what it looks like: Death.

"I haven't decided yet," I add.

I turn back to Adeline. She doesn't continue the conversation, allowing us to eat in silence until we've both finished our sandwiches. When both our plates are empty, she carries them over to the sink. She gives them a rinse before loading them into the dishwasher, and I try my best to keep my eyes away from those damn long legs and how her shorts ride up the backs of her thighs as she bends, but it's difficult.

She drops the plates into the slots before she uses the side of her foot to kick the dishwasher door closed.

"Have you thought about what you want to work on first?" I ask, leaning forward and resting my chin in my hand.

"I'm not sure." She pauses. "Is there a room or a certain area you've wanted done or one that's more important to you?"

"No." I lean back on my stool and raise my arms above my head. "Not really. You can start anywhere you'd like to." I loosen my tie, then completely remove it to wrap it around my fingers and lay it on the counter in a neat circle.

I catch Adeline looking out the window at the backyard again. "I think I'll start with the room I'm staying in. I'm going to go out and get some new sheets and things tomorrow."

"Not bad."

"It feels like it's the easiest task to tackle. That, and considering it's the room I'm staying in, I think it's best. Other parts of the house may require a construction crew."

"They will, and I can get that figured out." I didn't plan on getting involved with the reconstruction of the house, but I don't want Adeline staying here for a long time with over half the house unlivable. I know parts of it can be dangerous.

I stand and push my stool back under the counter, then grab a towel and quickly wipe down the counter, feeling Adeline watching me again, her stare burning a hole in my back.

I stop and I smile. "Let me guess. You think it's funny watching a billionaire clean a counter."

"A little," she agrees, sheepishly.

"Do you not remember the year Archer and I worked at the bar down at the country club?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I'm sure your father loved that. And mine."

"Oh…" I hang the towel back on the hook above the sink. "My father loved it so much he had me fired one week from the day I started, which was exactly how long it took him to find out I was working there." I think back to a few short days of living a semi-average life. "It was the summer before I went off to college. I was eighteen... so you must have been six."

Wincing, I spin around to face Adeline. She's now standing in the doorway, leaning against it with her shoulder.

It's strange looking at her now as a full-grown woman and bringing up stories like my trip to Ireland and the few short days I worked as a bartender.

Adeline's perfect dark eyebrows arch across her tan forehead. "I was six. No wonder I don't remember it."

"Right." I nod.

The air between us tenses, and suddenly, I feel awkward. Self-conscious, too. They're foreign feelings.

Adeline points her finger straight up. "I'm going to go take a shower and wash the sheets before I go to bed. I know you said you don't normally stay here, but are you planning on it, because I can sleep on the couch?"

"No." I wave her off. "I don't have any clothes here, anyway."

I'm lying. I stuffed a few boxes of clothes in the closet of the bedroom the week after I bought this house. I brought them here on the off chance I ever decided to stay.

But I don't want to make Adeline feel uncomfortable because of the way she constantly lets her hair fall over her face as she tries to not so subtly hide her sad and distant eyes from me.

"Okay, well, it's your house, so just let me know whenever you want to stay, and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Absolutely not." I shoot her a glare, sharpening my voice. When she jerks back, I realize how my tone must have come across. "I just mean I won't put you out. I'll sleep on the couch or something. Besides, I don't have your number, anyway, so I wouldn't be able to warn you."

"Right." She nods, wringing her hands while she remains leaning against the doorframe between the kitchen and the hallway.

I tug my phone from my pocket and unlock it before handing it to her. She types her number in and calls it.

She ends the call and holds her arm out, passing it back to me. "There, now I have yours."

"Cool." I slip my phone back in my pocket and swipe my tie from the counter. "Well, thanks for dinner."

She giggles. "You're welcome."

The sparkle in her eye tells me we're thinking the same thing.

Why does it suddenly feel like this isn't my house? And why do I suddenly feel awkward for telling her thank you?

I've so easily forgotten she's my best friend's little sister. I'm only remembering it now as I find myself staring at her long, toned legs, once again.

"I should go," I force out.

She springs off the doorframe and moves out of the way. I slip past her and head down the hall.

With my hand on the doorknob, I stop, remembering something she said earlier. "I almost forgot. If you plan on washing those sheets, the laundry room is down in the basement, but you might want to be careful."

"Careful of what?" she asks, her eyes widening with fear. Her full, smooth lips part as she takes in what I assume to be a nervous breath.

"There's plenty more cobwebs down there than there are up here." I glance around at the ceiling before locking eyes with hers. "You may want to watch out for all the spiders. It's probably where they live."

Her mouth drops, and she shivers. I bite back a smile, thankful to get my mind off the thoughts invading it. My hand twitches, and I tighten my grip on my tie.

After I make my way down the walkway and sit in my car, I stare at the front door of my house. I imagine Adeline still standing in the entryway, thinking about having to go down in the basement. Shame settles in my chest. I shouldn't have said it, and I feel guilty for leaving her that way, but I needed to get out of there, and I couldn't leave thinking about how she'd reached up to grab the plates from the cabinet.

My thoughts were headed in a direction they certainly shouldn't have been going.

Without a place in mind to stay tonight, I force myself to start the engine and put the car in reverse anyway, and by the time I turn off the street and out of the neighborhood, I wonder how long my resolve will last.