Lured

3-1

3

On Saturday, we spent the day at Poppy’s for her son’s birthday—a morning and afternoon of sandwich making, pirate games, and Sean chasing about the garden with the entire party of nine-year-olds, while Poppy followed him with her digital camera. Watching him expose such a natural way with kids turned out to be entertaining, enlightening, and almost heart-breaking, all at the same time.

Daylight showed the first sign of dimming, as Sean stopped the truck outside home and turned the key. Quiet met our ears, filled only by our breaths.

“What did you think?” I asked when he made no move to get out.

The question didn’t really need asking. Anyone with eyes could have seen the fun Sean had at the party, reliving his youth, burning off energy.

He turned, his teeth flashing a smile. “It was awesome. Ben’s so cool. Lily, too.”

“That’s because they have Poppy as their mum,” I said. “And Jase as their dad.”

He nodded and leaned back against the cushioned headrest. His lids lowered as though taking a moment for personal thought.

“Fancy a game of ball?” he asked, opening his eyes.

I smiled. “Do you really need to ask?”

We exited the car, and while Sean forked off to gather up the basketball, I entered the house through the conservatory.

“We’re playing ball, if anyone’s interested,” I said before heading back out.

Sean and I had already pulled off our sweaters, our scrabbling for the ball well under way, by the time the others emerged and clothed me in their scents. Of course, they took his side, leaving me to chase after them like the puny kid who couldn’t quite keep up—as usual.

Kyle bulleted toward their goal with the ball he’d stolen from me, and before I could reach him, he leaped, aimed, shot and scored.

A dive landed me on his back, my arms wound around his shoulders. “That was cheating. The game’s barely started.”

He chuckled. “You being a bad sport, Jem?”

Lips pursed, I slid down him until my feet met the ground. “No.”

The game recommenced, and my muscles came alive with the exercise. Adrenaline surging, my heartbeat sped up, my breaths hastened—until Kyle tackled me, as I made a dash toward the action.

His hands gripped my waist, and he whirled me round to face the wrong way.

I growled. “You’re going to be in trouble if you keep this up.”

The next attack came from Daniel, the middle Larsen son. He dove for me, as I jumped for the ball, and we collided mid-air before the ball could reach me. His arms came around my waist, saving me from the blow, and our feet slammed the lawn on our landing.

“What’s this? Pick on Jem day?” I nudged him away with my shoulder. “You’re all as bad as Josh ...” Trailing off, I halted, my gaze scanning the garden.

Where the heck was Josh? He never missed out.

After a second check confirmed he definitely hadn’t come out, I jogged across to the house and pulled open the conservatory door. “Josh!”

No answer. Even the noise of game play grew quiet as they paused.

“Josh! Come and play!” I called.

Feet shuffled from the lounge into the hallway.

I smiled ... until Connor appeared instead of Josh. “Where’s Josh? Tell him to come out.”

“He’s not here,” Connor said.

“But ... it’s almost dinnertime.”

Connor’s green eyes shot to the side beneath his red hair. “He’s not eating with us today.”

Frowning, I took a step into the kitchen. “Is he ill?”

“No. He’s gone out.”

My frown deepened. “Where’s he gone?”

Sean’s scent spiralled through, before his feet hit the tiled floor of the conservatory. “What’s up?”

I turned to him. “Did you know Josh was going out today?”

“No.” He faced Connor. “Where’s he gone?”

“On a date.” Daniel spoke from behind us.

I whirled, checking his face, his eyes, but found no sign of a joke, despite his smile and light tone. “A date?”

He nodded. “With that girl he met. What’s her name ...?”

“Marianne.” I scowled as my good mood drained away.

“Yeah, that one.”

Daniel seemed oblivious to my expression, as I glanced back toward Connor. Connor’s gaze met mine for only a split second before he gave his attention to the tiled floor.

As I looked from one man to the next, my hands tightened at my sides, my jaw ached from the clenching of my teeth, and those hoods of mine overhung with the mega-furrowing of my brow.

Sean took a step forward, reached out for me, but I spun and headed inside, already digging in my pocket for my mobile.

“Jem?”

Ignoring Sean’s call, I squeezed past Connor through to the hall. With my mobile held out before me, I scrolled down to Josh’s name and hit the call button.

As I strode past the living room, a tilt of my head revealed Nathan. I didn’t speak, just kept going.

At the end of the hall, I U-turned and raced up the stairs, two at a time.

The first door on the left led to my bedroom. I entered and slammed the door behind me.

The ring tone sounded four times, five, six, seven. Each ring frustrated me further, fuelling my impatience.

He’s doing it on purpose.

Maybe he knew what I had to say.

Josh answered on the ninth ring. “Jem?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date? Is it because you’re with her?”

“Jem?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Um ... what’s wrong?”

“Are you on a date? Yes, or no?”

“Excuse me for a minute.” His muffled volume told me his words weren’t aimed at me. The sound of his footsteps indicated movement before he spoke to me again. “Jem, what’s wrong?”

“Why am I finding out from everyone else you’re on a date?”

“What? I—”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Is it with her—the faker?”

“Jem!” His tone arrived sharp.

“Don’t Jem me.” My warm temper burned. “You knew you were going on a date, and you didn’t tell me.”

“I haven’t seen you.” Irritation marred his tone, too.

“You’ve seen me all week. Was it because you knew I wouldn’t approve?”

“What are you going on about? How can I tell you something I don’t even know myself?”

“Don’t give me that.”

“Marianne only called last night to ask me out. I haven’t seen you since then, so how could I possibly tell you? And what do you mean, you wouldn’t approve?”

“She called you? She called you? That’s because she has ulterior motives.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She’s a liar,” I said. “She’s lied from the off and played you like a fiddle.”

In truth, I realised I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. I must have sounded like a bumbling i***t, but couldn’t seem to help myself—I was on a roll, and it moved too fast to show any signs of slowing.

“You don’t even know her,” Josh said.

“That’s exactly my point, Josh.”

“What? What the hell—”

“You promised you’d make sure I liked anyone you dated. Do you remember that?”

“Jem—”

“Well, I don’t like her!” I hung up on him.

My chest heaved.

The tremble of my hand affected the mobile I held before me, as I waited to see if Josh would call back for round two.

He didn’t.

My frustration expanded, but the more time that passed, the longer I had to think. As my pulse returned to normal, my breathing followed suit, and my brain evaluated what I’d just done.

I groaned.

What right had I to tell Josh who he could or couldn’t date?

No right, that’s what.

Who was I to insist he seek approval for any women he liked?

No one—not even family ... not in the literal sense of the term.

I had to be the biggest let-down of a surrogate big sister ever.

“s**t!” I kicked at the divan.

I owed him an apology—big time—but couldn’t bring myself to call him back.

Probably wouldn’t answer, anyway.

“s**t! s**t! s**t!” A stomp of my foot accompanied each curse.

What if he was on his way home? What if my ranting had incited him to cut his date short? He could be raging mad and already coming to have it out with me.

“Oh, you idiot.”

With another groan, I tossed my mobile onto the bed, rubbed my hands over my face. Only as I fisted them in my eyes did I realise the threat of tears.

What the heck’s wrong with me?

Jealousy hadn’t sparked the outburst. Something more than that. Would I have gotten so mad if it had been a different girl he’d taken on a date?

I very much doubted it. I just couldn’t figure out why I had such a problem with her.

Clatters carried from the kitchen, as footsteps bounded up the stairs.

I tilted my head.

The bedroom door handle squeaked, and the door swung open to reveal Sean. “Come and eat, Jem.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I’ve upset Josh,” I said.

“You can apologise.”

I shook my head, my mouth bearing the burden of my frown.

Sean stepped into the room and pulled me close. “He’ll forgive you, Jem, once he’s cooled off.”

Inhaling his calming scent, I leaned into him. When he drew me to his side and herded me toward the door, I didn’t protest, hadn’t the energy—I’d used it all up on Josh.

In the kitchen, the others had already started eating. When Sean drew back my chair, I slumped into it and ignored the attention of the pack, peering down at my dinner as though potatoes had answers.

From his usual seat beside me, Sean reached for my fork and held it out to me. “Eat.”

I took the cutlery, poked at my cottage pie. Knowing he wouldn’t leave me alone unless I obeyed, I prodded up a miniscule forkful and steered it into my mouth, raising my eyebrow at him in a ‘happy now?’ expression.

With a smile, he leaned over and snared a far bigger blob on his own fork and waved it beneath my nose, until I relented and ate it.

As I’d no wish to endure the embarrassment of being fed in front of the others, I forced one mouthful after another down.

Halfway through my meal, I dropped my fork and pushed up from my seat. “I should call him back.”

Sean tugged at my arm, parking me back on my rear. “Leave it, Jem.”

“I should .... I was horrible to him.” With a groan, I leaned forward, holding my hair up to prevent it stroking mashed potato on my plate.

“Talk to him tomorrow,” Sean said.

I shook my head, clambering from my seat.

Back through the hall, I rounded the newel post, jogged up the stairs, and snatched my phone off the bed. I hesitated only a second before I hit redial.

It rang for ages. Maybe he’d no intention of ever talking to me again.

My chest tightened at the thought.

His answer jolted me back. “What now, Jem?”

“Josh, I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” His tone chilled me.

“I had no right to speak to you that way.”

“No, you didn’t.”

I sniffed. “I’m sorry.”

His sigh travelled the connection to my ear. “I know.” His voice had softened. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I mumbled.

“Bye,” he said and hung up.

***