The Rebound - Stefanie London Page 0,3

speak to me again if I didn’t show.

Which means if there’s drama with the wedding party and he finds out I didn’t help...

“You seriously caught on fire?” I ask.

“Just a little bit of fire.” She bites down on her lip. Is a little bit of fire even a thing? “Do you think I’d be running out in the open with my lady bits on display if it wasn’t totally necessary?”

Hmm. Good point.

Her eyes dart toward the front of the building. Geez, her sister must be a real nightmare if she looks that terrified at being caught.

“Where’s your place?” I say with a heavy sigh. I already regret coming—I do not need more drama in my life, that’s for damn sure. But wherever my stepbrother is, stupid shit follows. Like he’s the Pied Piper of stupid shit. I should have known something wild would happen.

“South Melbourne,” she says, sagging back against the seat. “Thank you. You’re a life-saver.”

It’s not too far from here—fifteen minutes tops. Shaking my head, I back my car out of the spot I’d just pulled into and peel out of the venue. Given I was running late—procrastinating and trying to find an excuse to bail without burning my relationship with my father to the ground—nobody is coming in the other direction. Everyone else will have arrived by now.

We zip along the small, winding road that leads through the parkland and out onto a main road in record time.

The second we’ve cleared the trees, a green-and-white sign tells us South Melbourne is less than five kilometres away. I catch the half-naked woman relaxing somewhat.

“So, it’s Drew, is it?” I ask.

She looks at me with wary eyes. “Yeah.”

I don’t know anything about my stepbrother’s fiancée or her family—other than from the cheesy wedding announcement I read online. How Mike had found anyone to marry him was a mystery, let alone someone as smokin’ as Presley Richardson. And it turns out that genetic lotteries do exist, because there are two of them.

“You jumped into my car,” I point out. “I’m allowed to ask a few questions.”

“You asked a few questions before we left the parking lot.” She purses her lips. “And shouldn’t you be concentrating on the road?”

For someone who was begging a stranger to help her not five minutes ago, she sure is bossy.

She lets out a breath and holds up one hand—her other still crossing her chest. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but this has been...a hell of a day.”

“Not the sunshine and roses the bride and groom would have everyone believe?” I raise a brow and pull my eyes back to the road as the light in front of us turns green. “Has your sister been driving you nuts?”

“My sister is a saint. What she’s put up with...” The sentence breaks off with an aggravated huff.

I know that sound. Have expelled it frequently around my stepbrother. He’s a man who inspires the kind of noises no words can convey. Given my father seems to think the sun shines out of his ass, I’m happy to have support from someone in the wedding party...even if she is half naked and clearly not organised enough to bring her bridesmaid dress with her.

“He’s not the easiest guy.” I choose my words wisely, because as much as I have strong feelings about Mike, I don’t want things blowing up in my face with the rest of the family. Again.

“No, he really isn’t.” She shoots me a look that’s difficult to read. Okay, so there’s clearly tension between Mike and the Richardsons. Not surprising. “You’re a friend of Mike’s?”

“Family, actually.” Even saying it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“Oh?” She looks at me a little closer now. “I’m sorry—I didn’t even ask your name.”

“Sebastian,” I reply. “I’m Mike’s stepbrother.”

For a minute, there’s nothing but silence in the car. The sound of the Merc’s tires rushing over the road fills the gap in our conversation. In the distance, a siren wails and Melbourne’s high-rise-cluttered skyline appears before us.

“Sebastian. Right.”

Is it my imagination or is her voice a little higher-pitched than it was a moment ago? I glance at her from the corner of my eye and Drew looks white as a sheet. “Don’t worry,” I assure her. “I’m not going to go back to the wedding and tell everyone you ran across the parking lot practically naked.”

My joke doesn’t ease her discomfort. Lord, what must Mike have told them about me? I can only imagine. That I’m a manipulator,