the most muscular legs I’ve ever seen thanks to four years of college soccer. He’s the best thing that ever happened to a pair of shorts and I’ll admit to even running my gaze down his frame when he wears these particular sweatpants of the grey color.
I mean, he might annoy me but I’ve got eyes.
It’s no secret that all the girls want to stay at my house, dying for the chance to catch the hot Principal outside of school. I should start charging some of these thirsty bitches. “I made you some breakfast.”
I look towards the staircase that’s just off my bedroom wondering what he possibly made for me. “Did you poison it?”
A look of hurt crosses his face, and I mentally pat myself on the back that I was able to temporarily disarm him in today’s battle of wits. “What reason would I have to poison you?”
I lean against the door jamb and stare up at him. He’s tall, at least a foot taller than me, and I have to crane my neck most of the time when I want to look at him. “I don’t know, revenge?”
“Revenge for what?”
I shrug, noncommittally before looking down at my nail beds. “Taking your car out and scratching it.”
His eyes widen and darken to an almost sinful shade of blue and I know it’s only a matter of time before he explodes. It’s always the same, and I know just how far I can push him to make him snap. But he gives as good as he gets it. “I KNEW that was you.”
I roll my eyes and sashay towards the bathroom. “You’ll live.”
“That car is brand new, Stassia Rae.”
I spin around and stare up at him in shock. “Ah, so you do know my name.”
He takes a step closer to me. “Don’t change the subject.”
I take one as well, making it so we are almost toe to toe, and as usual I have to crane my neck to glare at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“And you know this, man.” I smile, quoting one of my favorite movies as I shoot him a peace sign from behind my back. “I’ll be ready within the hour.”
“TWENTY-FIVE—” he starts just as I slam the bathroom door.
I let out a breath, wanting to scream. My stepfather, the dreamy object of my affection for most of my tenth year of life, became my nightmare just a few years later. He met my mother during Back to School Night in the beginning of fifth grade and they hit it off. I tried everything to sabotage things that night, knowing that my mother fell fast and hard and my silly ten-year-old brain was still convinced that he would eventually fall in love with me.
Incoming: Dominic Callahan the vulnerable, grieving widower with piercing blue eyes and a heart of gold.
Sparks flew so fast I was surprised the school didn’t catch fire that night. A year later, despite begging her not to, my mother married my crush, thoroughly breaking my heart and forcing me to move on because who would have a crush on their stepfather?
It was just way too porny and weird. Not to mention, the rose-colored glasses quickly faded when I realized he was a royal pain in the ass. Overprotective, slightly neurotic, and worried about every little thing. I guess that comes with the whole dead wife thing but my God, relax. It’s been seven years, and though I’ve learned to live with it, I can’t say it hasn’t been challenging along the way.
There’s a knock on the door, just as I finish applying toothpaste to my brush. “What?” I ask, expecting Dominic and not the sweet voice that floats through.
“Angelface, it’s Mama.” I unlock the door immediately, shocked that she’s home and not at the hospital where she works as the resident oncologist. It’s nearing seven-thirty, and I’m surprised she hasn’t already left for the day for eight o’clock rounds.
Eyes that match mine, lined with liner and no less than three coats of mascara blink at me with a bright smile. “Sweetheart.” She gingerly fingers the split ends of my hair that slightly graze the top of my breasts. “You’re due for a trim.”
“Ugh,” I scoff. “I know. Will you take me tomorrow?”
“Not when I hear you and D fighting like that.” She says using her nickname for my stepfather.
“But Mom…he’s being…well, you know.”
She shuts the door behind her and sits on the side of my bathtub, facing me. “You know he’s