PRINCE CHARMING: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance(62)

I met Sarah my freshman year. I would begin my junior year after this summer, and we were as close as ever. She was a girly girl, with cherry-blonde hair and clear, green eyes. She played soccer, and though my mother had invited her for the summer, she couldn’t come to New York because she had soccer camp in preparation for the next season.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re making our final descent into JFK airport. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened,” I heard the intercom blare.

Thank goodness. The fight had taken forever, or maybe I was just so anxious to see what my mother’s new life was like.

The airplane landed, and I followed the rest of the groggy passengers out of the plane. I turned my phone off airplane mode, and it began to vibrate almost immediately. I received several texts from friends, some notifications from social media, and a new number had called my phone several times. Puzzled, I dialed it. It rang for a moment, and then a deep voice answered.

“Amy?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. Speaking. Who is this?” I questioned, skeptical.

He chuckled in an equally deep voice. “It’s Ashton, Gary’s son. I thought your mom gave you my number.”

Come to think of it, she had texted it to me. Shit. “Yeah. Sorry. I just landed,” I said, embarrassed.

“It’s all right. I hear people from San Fran are a tad airheaded,” he replied.

“Excuse me?” I blurted in disbelief, my face red with embarrassment.

Before I could argue, he said, “I’m at the entrance to the east gate. I’m holding a sign that says ‘Amy.’ Find me there.”

My mouth was in a tight line as I hung up. I’d heard people from New York weren’t very polite, and now I knew it was true. How could someone who didn’t even know me insult me so casually, like he was ordering a smoothie or something? I couldn’t believe his nerve.

I followed the signs to the east gate, my purple rolling suitcase trailing behind me as I weaved in and out of hurrying people. I’d packed lightly because my mom had mostly new stuff for me at the new house. My dad, angel that he was, had helped me pack up my dorm room. I looked down at my suitcase. My whole life was in that bag, and I wished I had packed more because I felt so unprepared.

My heart thudded a bit louder than usual as I searched for the sign, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. His voice had struck a chord in me. Finally, I saw my name, messily scrawled on a sheet of eight-by-ten-inch printer paper. Holding this makeshift sign was a tall guy with shoulder-length brown hair. He wore sunglasses, and in one hand, he held a cigarette. I hurried over to him. He towered over me. I was five-foot-two, and he must have been at least six-foot-three.

He looked down at me and took a puff of his cigarette. “You must be Amy,” he said, the smoke trailing out of his mouth.

“Nice to meet you, Ashton,” I greeted. I tried to shake his hand, but he just looked at it, raising an eyebrow. He gave me a gentle pound on the shoulder.

“’Sup, sis? Let me help you put this in the car.”

Dumbstruck by his casual rudeness, I let him take my bag. I walked to the car without speaking to him again. He got in and grinned at me.

“Took you long enough. I thought they were going to kick me out because I was parked here for a while.”

“I came as fast as I could. I’ll let that comment slide, though, since I know people from New York are impatient,” I replied, throwing some sass at him. He damn well deserved it.

He took his sunglasses off, and I got a glimpse of his honey-brown, almost gold eyes. I gaped at his sexiness. He had the most beautiful face I had ever seen on a man. His jawline was chiseled, and his lips were full and symmetrical. He had long eyelashes and flawless, slightly tanned skin. His eyebrow was pierced, and I could see a mermaid tattoo on one of his arms, halfway concealed by his long black sleeve.

“All right. Settle down. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us, so I hope you like rock music,” he informed me.

I turned sharply in my seat, trying to keep my eyes focused ahead and off the beautiful man sitting next to me. “I don’t mind rock,” I replied, my voice quivering a bit.

My voice always quivered when I got nervous. My heart pounded again, and I felt myself getting wet. This person was going to be my stepbrother? Some sexy, bad boy, east coast, rude asshole was my future stepbrother? Ugh! He blasted rock music and pulled roughly out of our spot. I fastened my seat belt nervously, gritting my teeth.

“Mind driving like a normal human?” I bellowed, then added, “And can you please turn the music down?”

He laughed softly. His sexy laugh sent chills up my spine. It was even sexier than his voice. “Chill. We do things faster around here. You’ll get used to it.”

He did as I asked, though, and lowered the music to a reasonable level. I pulled out my phone and texted Sarah.

Amy: You’ll never believe this.

Sarah: What?

Amy: My stepbrother-to-be just picked me up. He’s a hunk.

Sarah: LOL. Seriously?

Amy: Yeah, but he’s rude and he drives like a dipshit.

Sarah: He’d better be careful! I don’t want to have to come to New York and beat him up!

Amy: I’ll keep you posted.

Sarah: Please do!

His music made my ear drums vibrate, and they began to pop from the change in altitude. I clutched my purse close to me and tried not to look at him. I feared that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. After about five minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stole another glance at him. He was looking at me, too. Crap.