Free Stepbrother Untouchable by Colleen Masters Page A

food is presented in silver trays, and garlands festoon the perimeter. I
spot my mom talking in hushed, urgent tones to one of the caterers, and head
over.
    “Oh, Brynn, you look beautiful! That dress fits you so
well,” she gushes.
    “Thanks…do you need any help?”
    “Mmm, no. I think we're OK. The guests should begin arriving
in about ten minutes. Oh, go taste the Freedom Martini over at the bar and tell
me what you think. I'm worried it's a little too sweet.”
    “The Freedom Martini?”
    “The signature cocktail we created for this event,” the
caterer next to her chimes in with a chipper grin.
    “Ah, of course,” I reply, heading for the bar. The bartender
serves me a pale pink drink and I take a sip. Not too sweet—it's delicious,
light and refreshing. Luckily the day isn't too hot, anyway. The temperature
has managed to stay below ninety degrees for the party.
    I decide to go down to the river since I'd just feel in the
way while they’re setting up. I walk down to the lower lawn and down the steps.
As I reach the shore, I navigate the rocky sand cautiously in my heels. A
splash on the other side of the large boulder grabs my attention. I walk toward
it and peer around. Nate's standing there, skipping rocks with a smooth sidearm
motion. I pause, admiring his form, then decide it's best to just go back up to
the lawn before he notices me. He's made it clear he doesn't want to talk to
me.
    I turn back and as I walk my heel catches on a rock. I gasp
as I slip sideways, and feel two strong hands catching me under my arms to hold
me up.
    “Whoa, careful,” he says as he straightens me up.
    “Thanks,” I reply as I turn to him and tuck my hair back
behind my ears. “You escaping from the commotion, too?”
    “Yeah. I don't really enjoy these things.”
    “Really? You're so…” I trail off.
    “What?” he asks with a grin.
    I groan. “Fine. I was going to say 'charming,' OK?”
    “I knew it,” he replies jokingly. “Well, whatever charm you
might be noticing has been developed over many years of practice. My dad has
been dragging me to these kinds of events for years. I know the routine. Smile,
shake hands, tell the kinds of jokes that don't make anyone think too hard.”
    “Sounds…horrible. But at least there's a lot of free food.”
He gives me a bemused glance. “Right. Sometimes I forget I don't have to worry
about that stuff anymore.”
    “You were, um, not well-off before our parents—” he drops
his gaze.
    “I'd say we were struggling. But it was just the way I grew
up. I never wanted for anything big, though we certainly frequented the
Goodwill racks often enough. But I don't want you to think…I mean, my mom, she
really cares for Pierce.”
    “Relax—I don't think your mom's a gold digger. There have
always been some of those around, and I can practically smell them at this
point. I mean, maybe at first I was worried, but I'm not now.”
    “Was your mom—” I begin, feeling brave.
    “I don't like to talk about her,” he cuts me off, and chucks
another rock out onto the water. It hits the surface with a plopping sound and
sinks.
    “Sorry,” I whisper. “How's your shoulder?”
    “Hurts,” he replies shortly.
    “I'll see you up there,” I say after a moment, since he's
clearly done with the conversation.
    “Hey,” he calls after me as I climb the steps. “Jackson and
his parents are here. They're family friends. They're on the guest list every
year.”
    “Got it, thanks,” I reply, before mounting the rest of the
steps. That was considerate of him, and it sounds like he was telling me that
he didn't invite Jackson himself.
    As I walk across the lawn, I can see that the first guests
are beginning to arrive. I wonder if now that I'm Pierce's stepdaughter, I'm
going be expected to put on the same song-and-dance routine as Nate. Usually if
I have to go to a party, like my aunt's Christmas party, I'll hang out for a
while, and then disappear somewhere to read a