Stepbrother Fancy Read online

  Stepbrother Fancy

  by Lily Logan

  Copyright 2015

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  This book contains adult themes, explicit language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature audiences.

  About This Book:

  Starla Jennings is looking for the only man she ever loved. Eighteen and alone in a new city, she is following a hunch to find the stepbrother she lost contact with long ago.

  Her amateur sleuthing unearths a bombshell. Her idolized stepbrother is now billionaire real estate mogul David Harlow, the wealthy savior of Traverse City. He looks down on the city from his fancy skyscraper office only steps away from Star’s dank basement apartment. Armed with only her hope and her strange desires, Starla sets out to meet him.

  Will he be happy to see her? And how will he react once he finds out Star’s feelings for him have grown…complicated?

  This is a sweet and sexy taboo tale about a young woman and the man she has always loved. Sinfully erotic, it is meant for readers 18+

  Stepbrother Fancy

  A bare mattress on the floor, a duffel bag in the corner and a mug and bowl on the counter. I had unpacked the sum total of my belongings and now I was officially a resident of Traverse City.

  “So that’s that,” I clapped my hands together and surveyed my new digs.

  The basement apartment was so empty it echoed my words back to me. A not so subtle reminder of how alone I actually was here in this new city.

  “I can do this,” I spoke again, just for the pleasure of hearing a voice out loud. Was I already turning into one of those people who talked to themselves? Clearly I had underestimated my slim hold on sanity. But that’s how it is when you’re eighteen and desperate.

  “I can do this,” I repeated, trying to convince myself. “I will find him.” It felt good to say things out loud. Made them feel more permanent.

  I was eighteen years old, a stranger in a new city and I all had to go on was the vague memory of the only person I had ever truly loved.

  No big deal, right?

  “I can do this.” Why not say it one more time? Three times a charm right? And maybe that’s what it would take to find David. A charm, a magic spell. I closed my eyes, imagining that I could summon my brother before me, a flick of my wrist to make him appear.

  “You’re going crazy, Star,” I told myself, and then I laughed at my own joke. Yep. Definitely crazy.

  Thinking I was crazy was strangely freeing. I sat down on my mattress and pulled a battered paperback from my duffel bag. I had read it a million times over the years, but books were my one true friend. I hummed to myself as I did so, filling the vacant air of the studio, filling my lonely ears with noise. Now that I truly did have silence and space to myself, I was finding it wasn’t all I had hoped it would be. Without the noise I could finally hear my own thoughts, and I wasn’t particularly fond of those.

  It’s funny; I always thought I craved silence. But the yelling and screaming in my mother and stepfather’s house was so constant, an everpresent backdrop to my life, that I became accustomed to the noise.

  Even in my attic retreat, the noise could still reach me; the crashing of glass and the angry shouts wending their way up two floors into David’s old bedroom. It always felt more peaceful up there in the attic. Maybe that was why my older stepbrother had claimed it as his right off the bat. He was older than me by eight years and didn’t stay in our house for long, but in the two years we had together, David’s room became my oasis, my refuge from the turmoil of our home life.

  “I need to find David fast,” I told the air. “This pretty much sucks. “

  It’s harder to act than to think, I reminded myself. And my days of sitting dreamily up in David’s old bedroom were over. That was the old me, the young, dreamy Star who pined for her big brother so much that she had built him up to godlike status in her head. David, well, he pretty much ruined me for all other guys. No one could ever measure up to my brother, not in looks, not in kindness, not in anything. Instead of participating in the hormonal overload of high school, I spent my time in my brother’s old bedroom, my own personal refuge, wishing he’d come back home, wondering if I’d ever see him again, soaking up the relative peace of my refuge.

  Even though he left the minute he turned eighteen, some of that peace still remained for me through my high school years. I suppose I could have moved my bedroom up there myself. But somehow that would have dulled the magic of my stepbrother’s space. It would have ceased smelling like him if I claimed it. The fading posters on the wall would have seemed less like old friends. I missed David terribly when I was up there, but I was comforted by the traces of his presence that still remained.

  But now I was eighteen and it was my turn to flee. There was no peaceful refuge here in this damp studio apartment. My one window was eye-level to the street above, treating me to the sight of a million legs as pedestrians dashed down the busy sidewalk at all hours of the night.

  I moved here because this was the last place I knew David had been. Sure, I talked a good game, telling my friends from high school that I was moving to Traverse City to find a job. “I’m going to get out of this shit-town and make something of myself!” I had crowed to all the little future homemakers who blinked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. No one left our small town. If I stayed it would be my fate to get knocked up by one of the loping lunkheads who managed to graduate with me and settle into a life of increasingly louder desperation, just like my mom had done before me.

  Oh sure, she thought she was marrying up when she latched on to Bill Harlow. The balding widower owned three grocery stores in the county, and was the richest businessperson by far. I had been excited to move into the sprawling Victorian in the center of town and was eager to play with my new big brother. But David Harlow was sixteen years old when our parents got married, captain of the football team and busy with girls his age. He wasn’t much interested in playing hopscotch with his new little sister.

  When things started going south with our parents, though, David swooped in, pulling me out of the crossfire and whisking me away to the safety of his companionship. I went from being a lonely and confused eight year old, to a treasured and babied nine year old who worshipped her big brother.

  When he moved out, I was devastated. Nothing could hold a candle to the memory of David. Not my school boyfriends, not my small town, nothing would do except to go find him again.

  David was a nomad and had left no permanent address. Our parents seemed to accept that he wanted to be alone, either that or they didn’t want anyone to know just how badly they had fucked up in driving him away. “Oh he’s doing his thing!” they would laugh whenever someone inquired about their golden son. “He’s making his mark on the world, that’s for sure!” Inane pleasantries that let them off the hook. I hated it. I hated them.

  This basement apartment was to be the home base in my search for my stepbrother. Free of the drama of my parents’ house, I was desperate to see him again. I wanted him to see I had grown-up. I wanted him to know that I was okay, thanks to him. I wanted to thank him for giving me the only solace and happy memories I had. And, I’m not going to lie…I wanted him to protect me again.

  But first I had to find him.

  I took a job at a coffee shop across the street from my apartment. So much for the glamour I boasted about at graduation, right? But I figured that this shop was centrally located, right by City Hall and the government offices. I knew that David was involved in development from one of his infrequent post cards, so I ran with that.

  The morning of my first day in Traverse City found
me fumbling awkwardly with my green apron strings, trying to find a way to tie the shapeless garment so that wouldn’t look like I was wearing a stiff sack.

  “You’re new in town?” The purple haired barista I was teamed up with seemed friendly enough, in spite of the wide nose ring that dominated her otherwise pale, pretty face.

  “Just moved here,” I answered, feeling timid and hopeful at the same time. “My name is Starla.”

  “Starla? That’s a great name!” Her eyeliner was incredible, Cleopatra swoops of kohl black that made her eyes snap like a cat at night. I was immediately envious, feeling frumpy with my un-made-up face and simple braid.

  “Thanks,” I blushed. “I always felt like it was a bit much to live up to.”

  “It’s pretty,” she gushed, smiling. “So much better than mine.”

  I tried to relax. She seemed friendly enough, and I needed to learn how to talk to people. “What is your name?”

  “Jane,” she exhaled, blowing out her bangs in a huff. “I’m literally Plain Jane.”

  I laughed. With her neon hair and exuberantly pierced face, she was anything but plain. “There’s nothing plain about you,” I protested.

  “Thanks, I’m trying,” she laughed.

  The bell over the door jingled and she turned to take the customer’s latte order. I watched over her shoulder as she moved swiftly, graceful as a ballerina, and looked forward to when I could feel as competent. Right now I was stuck making the tea, hardly a challenge.

  I needed a challenge. Finding my brother would be a challenge.

  “So, do you know a lot of people around here, Jane?” I asked when the customer left.

  She wiped down the counter with a smug smirk. “A few,” she answered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  “Okay then, well I’m trying to find someone,” I could barely get the words out. I’m finally doing this. Don’t get your hopes up Starla. He could be anywhere. “My stepbrother.”

  “He’s missing?” Her eyebrows shot up and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of horror.

  “Oh, no, no,” I raised my hands to clarify. “No, we just…lost touch, I guess.” I sighed. “It’s pretty hopeless, honestly. I just upped stakes from my parents’ house and moved here sight unseen on the off-chance someone might be able to find him.” I paused. “Now that I say that, it sounds kind of crazy, doesn’t it?”

  Jane was looking at me curiously. “Yes,” she said slowly, “yes it does sound kind of crazy, but it also sounds ballsy as hell. You go, Star!” she extended a high-five in my direction.

  I laughed as our hands met. “Star. That’s what he called me. Way back when.”

  “Aw, when was the last time you saw him?”

  I huffed a sigh. “Eight years ago. He’s older than me. Moved out on his eighteenth birthday.” I grinned ruefully. “I followed in his path in that regard.”

  “Wow,” she said simply. “That’s gutsy.”

  “Thanks,” I sighed, “but kind of hopeless. He could be anywhere. I don’t even know where to start.” I felt the tears of dismay start to prick at the edges of my sight. “Fuck, what am I even doing?” I growled, trying not to meet her eyes. If I met her eyes I would start crying for sure.

  “Hey,” Jane put her arm on my shoulder. “You’re going to find him. I can help you.” She patted me on the shoulder. “So, what’s his name? Let’s start with that.”

  I took a deep breath. This was it. “David Harlow.”

  I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the regret in her eyes when she told me she had no idea who I was talking about. So I kept my eyes lowered until the silence went on a bit too long. Unable to resist any longer, I looked up at her expectantly.

  Jane’s jaw was hanging wide open, her perfectly calm composure gone as she sputtered, “David Harlow is your brother? The David Harlow?”

  I gaped back at her. “You know him? You’re kidding, you actually know who I am talking about?” This had to be a joke. This couldn’t be this easy.

  “Oh my god,” she clapped her hands over her mouth. “Are you sure?”

  I was confused. “Of course I’m sure. You think I don’t know my own brother’s name?” She was fucking with me, that was it.

  “The David Harlow?”

  I was starting to get a bit annoyed. “Uh, I don’t know if he is ‘the’ David Harlow. But yeah, that’s my brother’s name. Well, stepbrother, anyway.”

  Jane fluttered her hand over her breast for a moment and then seemed to compose herself. “Geez girl, what are you doing working in a coffee shop with a brother like Dave?” She seemed genuinely confused.

  Maybe she wasn’t making fun of me after all. I straightened my shoulders and stared out the window, lost in the memories. “We lost touch,” I explained. “He left when I was ten…and our family situation was not that…good. He never came back, but I got a few post cards through the years. He was basically the only good part of growing up, and I guess I just needed to see him again to feel whole, you know?” I turned to her eagerly. “So you know him?”

  Jane laughed loudly. “Well geez no, I don’t know him. I’m not rich enough to hobnob with the likes of David Harlow.”

  “Rich enough?”

  Jane rolled her eyes. “You really have no idea what he’s up to?”

  “None.”

  The doorbell dinged again, but Jane was too caught up to even acknowledge the waiting customer. “David Harlow came to Traverse City eight years ago,” she recited, like she was reading some promotional brochure, “When the bottom was falling out of the downtown real estate market.” She waved her hands around in the air, indicating the whole downtown area that extended in all direction. “He did some sort of magic money shit that I don’t understand, or else I wouldn’t be working in this shithole, and now he owns half of downtown.” She clapped her hands in front of her. “Just like that. Traverse City is David Harlow’s empire, Star. This whole town practically salivates the minute you say his name. He’s like…a god or something. And you’re telling me you’re his sister?”

  I opened and closed my mouth, gaping like a fish. It was too much to take in. My David, the rock of my childhood, now the savior of an entire city? Somehow it made sense, but I couldn’t help but feel the strangest tinge of jealousy. I didn’t want David to protect Traverse City. I wanted him to protect me. My inner child stamped her foot petulantly.

  But Jane took no notice of my internal tantrum. She was still in the throes of her speech. “The man is a legend and he’s only twenty-six. And hot as fuck too, if I do say, though totally not my normal taste. I like skinny guys and he’s all lumpy.”

  “Jane, how can I find him?” I pressed. “Is there, like, an event or something where I could buy a ticket?

  “You want to find David Harlow?” she laughed. “Well you came to the right fucking place, Star. You thought you were going to have a long time searching for him?” She laughed in glee. “That’s his building, right over there!”

  I gasped as she pointed out the plate glass window to the sleek, modern skyscraper glinting in the sunlight. It rose high above the squat buildings that dominated the downtown landscape, looking down on all of them like a king receiving his subjects. I couldn’t help but whistle through my teeth.

  Jane heard my amazement and gave a short barking laugh. “Yeah your stepbrother kind of saved this entire city. Like some kind of real estate Batman. He swooped in and swept out all of the slumlords and vacant lots and made this place worth living in again.” She squinted up at the top of the building, the lofty spire reaching towards the puffy white clouds that reflected in the glass. “He’s pretty much as near to a superhero as a capitalist pig can be.” She cocked her head to the side. “Come to think of it, he kind of looks like one too. All manly-jawed and shit.”

  I felt a flush of pride, along with a strange tightness in my belly. That was my David she was talking about. The rock of my childhood, my comfort and safe haven. Now he was doing for an entire city what he
used to do for me: create a safe place for people to thrive. I felt that twinge like jealousy again and shook it off more easily this time. Because by the looks of that skyscraper, he wasn’t being completely altruistic.

  “Is he really rich?” I heard myself ask, feeling dumb as hell.

  “Uh. Yeah,” was all Jane said, before finally turning to the exasperated customer with a curt, “Whaddya want?”

  Even though I was supposed to be training, I still stared out of the window at the lofty building. My brother was right across the street. I couldn’t believe the coincidence and I couldn’t believe my luck. Somewhere in that mass of steel and chrome was the boy I was searching for. I looked down at my dirty green apron and felt my cheeks flame. He was a rich real estate mogul now. I couldn’t very well go meet him looking like the barista I was.

  I had waited this long to see him, now that I knew I could just walk across the street, it suddenly became imperative that I wait for the exact, right moment. I couldn’t wait to see him….

  But wait I did. It helped that the coffee shop suddenly became so busy that I barely had time to stare out the window. By the time my shift was over, my feet had swollen completely, spilling out over the tops of my cutest shoes in a grotesque imitation of muffins spilling over the pan. The only thing I had energy to do when I got back to my tiny apartment was fire up my wheezing laptop, steal my neighbor’s open Wi-Fi connection and finally Google David Harlow.

  When I saw the page after page of results that popped up, my jaw dropped open. How could I have never thought to search for him until just now? It had never once occurred to me that David would be semi-famous like this.

  Jane’s exuberant assessment of my brother’s looks was ringing in my head. “Like some kind of superhero,” she had said. As I closed my eyes and remembered the athletic boy in the attic, I could believe it. Though my memories were tinged with a child’s eyes, I could now look back and realize that yeah…David really was kind of hot. It shouldn���t have been a surprise to see that he had grown up to be the handsomest man I had ever seen. But yet…it was.

  I gasped again when I saw the first picture that popped up for image search. It was my brother, that was for sure. The same David, but so very, very different.