Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3)

"It's Sapphire's birthday. And you're not actually my boss, you know," she says. I smell her perfume, jasmine and something else that hints of the tropics, and I want to drink in her scent. I have to remind myself what a total and complete fucking brat she's being. I don't have to remind myself for long, as it turns out, because she opens her mouth again. "You're my bodyguard. That's it. You work for me, not the other way around."

She says the word bodyguard with disdain, like she's better than me somehow, and anger surges through me. And then I think I see the flicker of something else on her face – regret? -- and for a second, I want to grab her and pull her toward me and tell her to stop screwing around and kiss me, because everything she just said is total bullshit.

But fuck it, I've got my pride. "You're being a total -- "

"Bitch?" Addy interrupts.

"You said it, not me."

Addy's jaw clenches and she looks at me, anger flashing in her eyes. "Don't worry, bodyguard," she says, the word hanging heavy on her tongue. "I'll behave completely professionally with you from now on."

"Fine," I say, affecting a British accent. "Where will madam be off to this evening?"

"I don't like you," she says, grabbing her purse. She's lying. I know she is. And this whole fight is manufactured bullshit. It's not real. But I also know that it's easier for the both of us if we pretend. It's easier if we hate each other. It's for the best.

"I don't like you either, Addy-girl," I say, following her out the door. Her hips sashay as she walks in her too-high-to-be-safe heels, and when she tosses her hair over her shoulder again, I have to clench my fists at my sides to keep from grabbing it and yanking her toward me.

I'm not lying when I say I don't like her. Riding down the elevator with her as she looks to the side, pointedly ignoring me, I realize it with growing certainty. I definitely don't like her. Like is the wrong L-word to use when it comes to Addy.





FOUR YEARS, EIGHT MONTHS AGO



"Let me see them," Grace says, grabbing at my journal. "Come on, Addison."

"No way." I grip the notebook tightly in one hand, swatting at her with the other. "It's private."

"Fine," she says. "I can always guess your secrets anyway. Is it about a boy?"

I exhale heavily. "No, of course not."

Grace wrinkles her nose. "You aren't interested in anyone? What about that singer, the one you toured with? Not the older guy. The other one, the nice one, the one your age?"

"Nick?" I ask. "He's gay."

"Is he?"

"He's not out yet, but yeah."

"You're boring," Grace says, sniffing. "Have you heard from Hendrix?"

"No. Why would I hear from him?" My voice catches in my throat. I haven't heard from him in months. I don't know where he is now. He graduated from Marine Corps training last month, and I didn't go. No one did, even his own father.

We had an event, a big country music one that I had to go to as part of my contract. The event was Hendrix's father's excuse, but I think really the Colonel just didn't want to go. I'm not sure if his father was disappointed in Hendrix for joining the Marines, or secretly intimidated by the fact that he joined and actually completed training.

I think he expected Hendrix to show back up on the front doorstep a few weeks into training, because he'd dropped out or was kicked out.

I think that's what I expected, too. That's what I hoped. And then each week passed, and it didn't happen.

"I don't know, Addison," Grace says. "You guys are like BFFs. I figured you'd hear from him. Is he done training?"

"I have no idea," I say, shrugging. Acting like it's no big deal. "What do you mean, we're BFFs? We hardly talk."

Grace cocks her head to the side and studies me carefully. "Addison Stone, you and Hendrix are besties, whether you want to admit it or not."

I roll my eyes. "This is a bo-ring conversation. Why don't we talk about something more interesting. Like your love life, for example?"

Grace blushes, and I immediately sit up. "Why are you blushing?" I ask. "You met someone."

"No, he's nobody. He's really…not my type."

"As in, he's normal?"

"Screw you, Addison," she says. But she's smiling. Come to think of it, I've seen her smiling a lot more than usual lately.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says. "It's not going anywhere. We're just hanging out. Anyway, what are you scribbling in your journal?"

"Songs."

"Ooh, show me," she says. "You never sing for me anymore."

"Because the studio is writing all my music now," I say, shrugging. "It's not so fun anymore. It's more like a job, so it's kind of lame now. Anyway, they're nothing."





PRESENT DAY