Free Step Brother by Jayna King

it was clear Tatum wasn’t amused. “That’s quite a mess you have there.”
    “I know. I left it on the counter to cool while I was showering, and I had no idea that a fucking cat would eat pumpkin pie.”
    “Can’t blame you there.”
    “What am I going to do?”
    “Well, since we’re due at dinner in half an hour, there’s no time to bake another pie.”
    “Right.”
    “Do you have any whipped cream?”
    Tatum looked at me with a deliciously wicked grin. “I don’t know that there’s time for that, Reed.”
    I could feel myself harden inside my jeans, and I wanted nothing more than to tear off the white cotton robe she wore and not come up for air until Christmas. But I had a feeling I could earn some brownie points if I could solve her pumpkin pie problem. “Go finish getting ready, and I’ll handle it.”
    “What are you going to do?” Tatum looked suspicious, and I was trying to look at the deep V of her robe.
    “Depends on what I find in your kitchen.”
    “There should be pretty much anything you want, as long as it’s healthy.”
    “Sugar and eggs?”
    “Yup. Pantry’s next to the refrigerator.” She turned to walk down the hallway and stopped. “Can you really cook?”
    “There’s not much I can’t do, Tatum, especially if I’m determined. Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll have your problem solved.”
    I’d noticed the KitchenAid mixer on the counter, and I knew that meringue would be much more stable than whipped cream. I know it takes most people by surprise when they find out a tattoo artist likes to cook, but I have a monster sweet tooth. I can’t help it if I like dessert, and if I’m gonna eat those calories, they’d better be good. I separated three eggs, discarding the yolks, and put the whites in the bowl of the mixer, adding some sugar, putting on the whisk attachment and turning the mixer on low, just to get the sugar started dissolving.
    I poked through the cabinets, found a large saucepan, filled it halfway with water, put it on the stove, and turned it on high. I warmed the egg whites and sugar while I whisked the mixture by hand over the saucepan of simmering water. After five minutes or so, I put the bowl back under the mixer, turned it on high, and let the KitchenAid work its magic.
    Turning my attention to the ravaged pie, I smoothed out the top as best I could, scooping out the parts that had been touched by the cat. When the meringue was done, I spread it on the pie, broiled the top to brown it, and when Tatum emerged, I had a perfectly browned, glossy meringue-topped pumpkin pie on the counter. I was loading the dishes into the dishwasher when she saw it.
    “You have got to be fucking kidding me. That’s gorgeous.”
    “Nothin’ to it,” I said, knowing exactly how impressive it looked. “No one will ever know the difference.”
    “I think you may just be the perfect man, Reed.”
    “Well, perhaps we could discuss that over drinks after dinner?”
    “I don’t know. I still feel like it would be a huge mistake to get involved with my stepbrother.”
    “Suit yourself.” I wasn’t going to beg her. I did have every intention of convincing her, though. I could be patient when necessary. Tatum didn’t stand a chance.
    “You ready?” she asked.
    “I am. And you, by the way, look gorgeous.” She really did. She wore a sheer peach-colored top over tan skinny pants with a subtle gold sheen. With her blonde hair and the tan she was acquiring in Las Vegas, she was like a golden goddess. As she slipped on wedge sandals, I couldn’t help but think about peeling every article of clothing off her.
    “Thanks. My dad might be in a suit, but it’s ridiculous to get that dressed up for a family dinner at home.”
    “Is he really going to be dressed up?” I asked, alarmed. “I mean, I’m still wearing jeans, but I like to know what I’m walking into.”
    “I never know. He just always seems ready for an interview, even if it’s a Sunday football