Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3)

"Oh, don't be ungracious, Addy," her mother says.

The Colonel stands, gesturing toward the people at the table, an older couple and a guy around my age. The guy stands up, his napkin in hand, and I can see him checking Addy out. I decide that if I catch him doing that one more time, I'll obviously have to kill him.

"This is Martina and Rudolph Benton, and their son, Tustin," he says.

"We should just do this another time. We're not really dressed for a dinner or anything," Addy says, looking down at her clothes. She's wearing black leggings and a long shirt made out of some kind of pink material that shimmers when she moves. She looks amazing, but then Addy could make a paper bag look like a ten thousand dollar dress. "Since we didn't know we were coming to anything but a family dinner, Mother."

"Nonsense," the Wicked Bitch says, laughing nervously. She puts a hand on Addy's back to guide her. "I thought you could have a seat by Tustin. You two have a lot in common, actually."

Addy's forehead wrinkles, but she walks slowly around the table to sit down. And I realized immediately what this is. It's our parents setting Addy up with this obvious tool, Tustin. They're pimping her out. I'm sure they have some kind of agenda, since they only really operate out of self-interest.

I'm so disgusted and enraged by the entire thing that I don't realize I'm the only one standing there, my hands clenched by my side, until my father says, "Hendrix, there's a seat for you right there."

Great. My options are to walk the hell out of here and leave Addy with some douchebag my parents are trying to set her up with, or sit across from her at dinner with the douchebag my parents are trying to set her up with, silently seething and swallowing my rage.

Fucking awesome.

Addy gives me a long hard look across the table. I recognize that look. It's the you'd-better-not-do-anything look. I take a sip of water and wink at her. Challenge accepted.

I'm silent while our parents make small introductions and small talk. I learn that the Bensons finance independent films. There's the Wicked Bitch's angle.

"I didn't know you were even interested in acting, Addy," I say pointedly.

Her mother interrupts before she can. "Addy would be a brilliant actress, and she's always been motivated to expand her career and her brand into as many different avenues as possible, which is exactly why we're doing the clothing line and the perfume. It's going to be carried in all the major department stores, you know."

"That's impressive," Tustin says. "For someone so young."

Addy laughs and sips her water. "You're my age, aren't you?" she asks. "My parents said you have an MBA. What, are you some kind of child prodigy?"

"I've been very fortunate," Tustin says, shrugging with obviously false modesty, and I roll my eyes. Addy isn't falling for this guy's bullshit. He's so...fucking smarmy, with his carefully disheveled hair and chiseled jawline and manicured nails. He's wearing a suit I'm certain cost more than my piece-of-shit car.

"You're being modest." Addy smiles and wipes her mouth with her napkin. Then she tucks her hair behind her ear. That gesture almost makes me lose my fucking mind.

"No, I'd say he's pretty fucking fortunate," I say.

"Hendrix," the Colonel cautions. "This is not the time nor the place."

"Your parents tell me you're Addy's bodyguard," Tustin says, lifting a forkful of fish to his mouth. "So I'd say you're much more fortunate than I am."

Addy laughs nervously. "I'm not sure Hendrix would agree with you," she says. "He didn't exactly ask to be stuck with me."

"He didn't have many other options," the Colonel says, half under his breath.

The Wicked Bitch is chatting with Tustin's parents, and Tustin seems too distracted by the fact that he's sitting beside Addy to give a shit, but I watch Addy's face go chalk white when she hears my father speak. She clears her throat. "That's not true," she says. "Hendrix was a Marine."

"I see," Tustin says, wrinkling his nose like the word itself is distasteful. "An officer, at least?"

"No," I say sarcastically. "Not a officer. Just a Sergeant."

"Oh, I would have expected you'd be an Army officer, like your father." Tustin's father leans around his wife to make sure I can hear his stupid southern drawl.

"Sorry to disappoint," I say, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my tone.

"So what did you do in the Marines, Hendrix?" Tustin is suddenly interested in my job. I think he's intentionally trying to provoke me. If he isn't, he's just idiotically bumbling onto the wrong subject.

"I killed people," I say, my voice flat. "And I watched my friends die. And I tried to come back from Afghanistan in one fucking piece. So I guess since I didn't get blown to fucking hell, I'm one of the most fortunate people you'd meet. The guys that didn't – my friends – they weren't so lucky. And I get to think about just how goddamn lucky I am every single day for the rest of my life."