I sneer at him. “And Knox Cabot does anything he’s told?”
“What can I say?” He steps toward me, and I have to tip my face up to keep glaring at him. “People change, Leigh.”
I scowl even harder. “Are you saying you take requests now?”
Knox grins. “Maybe.”
“Well, then here’s one.” I pause, smiling back until I say, “Drop dead.”
He chuckles as I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
The last time he called me Leigh, we were fourteen, and I had no doubt in my mind I was going to marry Knox Cabot. Now, I’m not sure we’ll both survive the summer. But the worst part? The part that tears me up inside but somehow still manages to hold me together? I don’t think I care if he tries to make the next twelve weeks absolutely miserable for me. Because at least I get to spend them with him.
Chapter Two
Knox
Even after the door slams, I stare after her.
I’m playing with fire by screwing with Leighton. I fucking know it. But here’s the thing when it comes to her—to us—I’ll swallow the flames. Being shipped off to private school the past four years, it was easy to pretend I wouldn’t. With the night and day difference between Haven Cove and Seaside Heights, I could even spend summers at the resort like she wasn’t only a mile away. A minute by car or four by bike if I took the dirt trail through the trees behind my house to the alley behind hers. Her old house, anyway.
The truth is, I needed to act like Leighton was a thousand miles away whenever I was here. More than that, I needed to forget she ever existed when I wasn’t. It was the only way I wouldn’t lose my mind over not having her.
The system worked, too. Up until I waltzed into the all-staff meeting at the start of last season and there she sat in the back row. She’d lost the braces, gained a body I wanted to ruin, and made my cock throb with one flutter of her lashes, but it was undeniably Leighton Howard.
That’s what I got for paying a kid at school to put together the staff sheets and cabin assignments instead of doing them myself.
My backslide was instantaneous. One look and I wanted her more than ever. The blonde-haired, emerald-eyed, not-so-much-a-tomboy-anymore girl I’d spent so long obsessively trying not to think about was in my domain. And she would be for the entire summer.
Which led to a big fucking problem.
See, in my pocket right at that moment, I had a text from my sister. A follow-up from that morning when Kennedy and I saw our dad stuffing luggage into a closet.
Women’s luggage.
With our mom firmly in the “been there done that” column with him since we were kids, more than a few red flags went up. It took Kennedy all of twenty minutes in his study to crack the case wide-open. My twin might play it sweet and innocent, but she’s just as ruthless as I am. I just let the asshole shine all the time.
She had sent me a few pictures that our old man saved to the cloud, along with one she snapped of the massive yellow diamond engagement ring he had locked away in his desk drawer. While Kennedy messaged about how much of her inheritance he shaved off to buy the rock, I couldn’t stop staring at the woman he planned to give it to.
Sidney Howard.
Leighton’s mom.
Like I said, a big fucking problem.
I avoided her at all cost after that meeting, easy with her being a local. Even as the Staff Director, I can get away with not talking to townies most of the time. Sure, she scowled at me every chance she got. Her best friend had dropped off the face of the earth right before freshmen year and popped back up, pulling the “I don’t know her” card.
But my new system didn’t work nearly as well. By the end of last summer, I’d get hard every single time she glared. Then, before I left for school, we had dinner with our parents as one big, happy family. Leighton and I bumped into each other outside the powder room, and in the four seconds her tight body and soft tits pressed against me, one thing became crystal clear—my cock and I had unanimously decided we wanted her.
Whether she was going to be my stepsister or not.
Now I get to figure out how to survive another twelve weeks around her, and avoiding isn’t even an option this time. Not with her staying at the house on the weekends instead of in the staff cabins. In my room, in my fucking bed while I sleep in the den.
I snag Leighton’s polo off my desk and throw it on top of the filing cabinet to return to the storage closet later. I never expected her to wear it. A townie turned trust-fund princess wouldn’t stand a chance at the Cove. The locals would crucify her, and the ivy kids would rip her to pieces. But, even if I understand why she wants to keep her dirty little secret, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to screw with her over it.
I grab my keys off the desk and flip the lock on the office door on my way out. With most of the staff slated to arrive today and tomorrow, I should be finalizing schedules and double-checking bunk assignments—unlike last year—but I work far better under pressure. Give me ten minutes tomorrow before the all-staff, and we’ll be golden.
Right now, I have somewhere else to be.
When I jump on the golf cart outside, I haul ass toward the path that cuts through the golf course. Our house sits on the other side, connected to the resort by a service road, which must be what Leighton took since I don’t see her on the way.
Even though she had a twenty-minute head start, I pull through the iron gate before her. I park on the circle drive between the house and fountain and head inside. The bags Dad said he dropped off for her earlier are by the door, and I grab them, taking them upstairs as instructed.
The second floor is quiet, no saws or hammering, so the construction workers must be at lunch. They finished the entryway last week, and they’ve moved on to the guest rooms, transforming them into a new master suite now that Sidney’s moving in.
She insisted Leighton stay here on the weekends instead of in the staff cabins. With beds a scarcity around the Cabot house, I was “volunteered” to give up mine. The cabins open up later today, so she’ll grab what she needs for the week and then opt for a cot instead of a king-sized bed and shared stalls rather than a steam shower.
I’m leaning against a column downstairs, waiting, when she finally walks through the front door. Her skin glistens from the mile walk in the summer heat, and she wipes the back of her hand across her forehead. She changed out of her polo and khakis, and my eyes rake over her. The denim of her shorts barely covers the top few inches of her thighs, and her tank top pushes up her tits.
Fuck me sideways.
She only has one foot over the threshold, and my cock already pulses, begging to sink into her. I swear, my old man might as well have put a gram of coke in front of an addict and said to make it feel welcome. And then, just in case the temptation wasn’t already clawing at my insides, he decided to put a bump on my pillow two nights a week. I can’t even escape to the carriage house with all the wedding decorations, dressers, and mattresses shoved in there.
Leighton crosses through the foyer without noticing me, so I push off the column.