Dirty Little Secrets: A Stepbrother Romance (6 page)

I shook my head in amazement. “You know Alix, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you give Dad a compliment.”

“Derek’s not a bad guy,” Alix replied. “You know that. And I can tell from the way he talks about you that he was a great father. I guess . . . I guess I just wish I still had my father in my life. So when I do get bitchy with him, it’s not his fault.”

I held my tongue, but it took me literally biting it to not let myself say what I wanted to say. Instead I nodded and got out of the car. “If we’re going to the pier, let’s get going. Is there anywhere nearby I can get a change of clothes though? I dressed for Dana Point, and if we’re going to hang out on the beach, I’d like to wear some shorts instead.”

Alix shook her head but then grinned. “I might have something that works for you inside, though.”

She was right. Apparently, as part of the marketing deal with Reebok, the UFC gave everyone involved a swag bag. Since Alix wasn’t into the sort of fashion that the UFC fighters wore, she had just taken a set for a friend. “A guy who I was seeing at the time,” she said evasively, and I let it go. I didn’t tell Alix everything about my personal life either.

The style wasn’t what I normally preferred, but it wasn’t as garish as some of the board shorts that I’d seen. There were no dragons, no flaming skulls or tribal designs, just the UFC logo in large letters on the left thigh. I was already wearing a blue t-shirt, so it was a decent enough match. “How do I look?”

“Better than the guy who wore that for the website,” Alix said, coming out of her room. I had to blink a few times; she’d changed into a bikini top with a gauzy, see-through cover up that didn’t in any way hide the amazing figure beneath, and a pair of board shorts that still hugged her hips before going about halfway down her thighs. I noticed they were black too, and she’d chosen a bikini top that was nearly the same shade of blue as my shirt. “I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“We’re going to look like a couple,” I grumbled without even thinking. Alix’s face lit up, and her lips spread into a beautiful smile.

“That wouldn’t be so bad now, would it? I mean, at least that way you won’t be bugged by women trying to pick you up.”

The beach was crowded, like you’d expect on a California summer Sunday, but still I enjoyed it. The ocean breeze cut through the heat while at the same time blowing away any smog, and the waves were just as awesome as I had remembered. “This is great,” I said as Alix and I walked. “Although I have to admit that maybe I’ve been in Portland too long. Part of me wants to be up there on the beach instead, where you can smell the pine trees while you walk.”

“Anyone would prefer the smell of nature over the smell of Los Angeles,” Alix countered. “You know, Kade, Derek’s told me that I really should be investing more of my income into real estate. The thing is, Southern California is so expensive. Even with what I make as a model, it’s really hard to do more than dabble. Maybe I should look up in the Pacific Northwest, if you know anywhere I can put my money up there.”

“You sound like someone already considering their retirement,” I said jokingly. “When did you decide to become an old woman?”

“When I knew I wanted to be a model,” Alix replied openly. “You know what the average career length for a model is? Five years, with most girls starting around sixteen and ending at twenty-one. Unless you’ve made a big splash on the scene by the time you’re twenty, bookings will dry up until you only do it part-time or freelance stuff on the side. And to be honest with you, I haven’t made a big enough splash to keep going into my thirties. I’ve got maybe two years of high fashion left, then I could go into the side niche of fitness modeling for another four or five years at half pay. Unless I want to go and try my hand at acting, I’m going to be retired by thirty or so. To be quite honest, I don’t want to go into acting, and I have no real urge to go into the business side of fashion either.”

I fell quiet, stunned. I had been underestimating Alix a lot more than I’d thought. I said earlier that she was intelligent, but this was even more than I’d expected. I decided to just relax and let myself go with the conversation. “So what are your dreams, Alix?”

She turned her head and smiled shyly. “You’ll make fun of me if I tell you. You do it so often, I know you will.”

I shook my head, for perhaps the first time in the time we’d known each other chagrined by something she’d said. “No, I won’t. I promise.”

Alix looked me over for a bit, and we made our way down the beach toward the pier. It wasn’t as long as the more famous pier in Venice Beach, but it was still massive, stretching nearly a quarter mile out into the Pacific and towering over the beach itself. The asphalt topping was warm even through my shoes, but it was a good heat. I felt bad for anyone wearing thin sandals though—they’d have been baking their toes by the time they were even halfway down the pier.

Alix finished studying me and smiled shyly again. “I kind of want the classic happily ever after, you know? Husband, children, nice little house where I can devote myself to my family and to whatever the next stage is in my life. I mean, I do have interests other than modeling, you know.”

“Really? I didn’t know, actually,” I said. “Like what?”

“Well, I’ve really gotten a thrill recently with becoming more active in my investing. It’s part of what has me in trouble right now I know, I tied up everything in long term projects and don’t have enough liquidity when I want it, but I was thinking that if I can keep things up, I’ll have enough passive income from real estate investments that by the time I do step away from modeling, I’ll be set for life, but even more, I can grow more and more. Who knows? Heidi Klum made eighteen million last year with her work, maybe I can top that with my investments.”

“You’ll have better hair than Donald Trump at least,” I said, chuckling before stopping. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you, Alix. I’m really impressed by everything you’ve been saying. I guess it just surprises me all the more about the need for the money then. I mean, you seem to have your head pretty well screwed on when it comes to your finances.”

Alix nodded, and I could sense she was trying to come up with a lie on the fly again. “I know. I guess everyone just has a moment of craziness. How many twenty-one-year-olds would have acted maturely if they’d been offered a seven figure contract?”

“Seven figures, huh? Yeah, I guess I would have gone a bit crazy then too,” I said, thinking of the strain in her story. Sure, she might not like accessing Dad’s money, but the fact was she always had her own expense account. Dad had started a trust fund for her as soon as he and Layla got engaged. It was under the same conditions as mine, that we got full access at twenty-five, but before then she could access it under certain conditions. Dad wouldn’t have denied her on an issue like this. I let it go, knowing I had to talk to Vince soon.

We reached the end of the pier and watched the ocean for a while. Alix put her elbow on the railing and leaned down, trying to cup her cheek in her hand before pulling back, wincing as the pressure touched her injured cheek. “Damn, forgot about that.”

“I had something similar,” I told her. “One time, during my last year of law school, I had to argue a mock court case with an even bigger shiner.”

She turned to me and grinned, turning her arm so that her side was leaning against the railing. “Oh, I gotta hear this one. Derek never told me about it.”

“Dad doesn’t know,” I replied. “After leaving USC and going to Stanford, I missed the beach. Palo Alto isn’t the same as down here you know, and while some guys go surfing, I found that I just didn’t have the time or the schedule to allow me to be in the surf culture anymore. It left me pretty frustrated because I wanted a way to stay in shape, and just going to the gym and lifting wasn’t enough. So, about halfway through my first year of law school, I got into boxing.”

“You, a boxer?” Alix asked. “I’d never believe it. Your face is far too good looking to risk it in the ring.”

I knew I was blushing, but I couldn’t help myself. Alix was a beautiful woman, and she was calling me handsome. That is something any man likes to hear. “Well, I did. Oh, I spent maybe the first six months, the rest of that year of law school, taking it slowly. I worked the bag, did drills with the mitts, that sort of thing. At first that was all I needed, as it let me work out a lot of stress. Trust me, if you’re ever pissed off at the world, beating the hell out of a heavy bag until your arms are lead is very, very therapeutic. But, I found myself needing more. So, starting my second year, I got into sparring. Light sparring at first, just working with guys and figuring out how to put together everything I’d been working on with the bags and mitts. By my last year in law school, though, I was pretty decent, and I worked with a lot of the high level amateurs in the area in getting them ready for tournaments and stuff.”

“So how’d you get the black eye then?” Alix asked. “Don’t tell me you caught a stiff one while sparring.”

“No, I always wore those headgears with the eye and cheek protectors, because I knew I had to try and keep my face unmarked. It was my downfall in sparring. I carried my hands far too high to adequately defend my body. Some of the guys who could get inside my punches just tore me apart in the body while leaving my head totally unmarked. But I got the black eye because I got goaded into a smoker one time.”

“What’s a smoker?” Alix asked.

“Think of it as a very low-level, pro-rules fight night,” I said. “A lot of the guys are amateurs, and the fights are usually classified as amateur fights, but the rules are more flexible. The event I did was for charity, the only reason I agreed to do it at all. The deal with a smoker is that you and your opponent can get together before the fight and talk it over with the ref as to how hard you’re going to go, headgear, stuff like that. Well, my opponent was a real cocky son of a bitch, and I didn’t know he was a former Golden Gloves champ who wanted to do the smoker more as a comeback tune-up after getting out of prison. He pressured me into ditching the headgear, saying if I kept it he’d duck the fight. The promoter begged me to keep the fight. He’d already lost two fights on the card because of injuries or guys just no-showing the whole damn thing. So, I did it as a favor to the promoter and because I was feeling cocky.”

“And the guy handed you your ass,” Alix said, laughing. “I guess it’s a change. You’ve always been the guy who’s been on top, the guy with all the answers who never let anyone give you any crap.”

“Actually, I did survive the fight,” I replied. “It went to the scorecards, where the guy won two rounds to one, so I guess I did okay. But yeah, I had that massive shiner, and two days later had to do a mock court case in front of two professors. To make it even worse, I was assigned defense in a domestic violence case. So there I was, looking like the victim of DV myself, and trying to defend a mock criminal.”

Alix’s lip trembled, and a light went off in my head. My initial idea had been right, and I had further evidence. But I didn’t want to press the issue right then, although I made a few adjustments to my travel plans mentally. “Come on,” I said, taking Alix’s hand. “The pier is great, but you said you were going to take me to an awesome Indian place, and I could go for some garlic nan bread if they have it.”

“No garlic, but what about butter and cheese?” Alix answered, her fingers entwining with mine like they had always belonged there. “It’s a cheat meal of mine.”

“Sure,” I said, then stopped. “Just a second, let me go ahead and get that transfer done. It should only take a second” I said, pulling out my phone.

Two minutes later, I had logged into my bank account, and I got the information I needed from her. “Okay, the bank says I need to give verbal authorization on Monday during business hours, but that you’ll have it credited by the end of business Monday,” I said, showing her.

Alix’s eyes filled with tears, and she smiled, wrapping her arms around me again and squeezing. “Thank you, Kade. Seriously.”

I returned the hug, ignoring that Alix was my stepsister and just enjoying that she was a beautiful woman who I found enchanting. Her hair was soft and smelled like a pure, honest shampoo, nothing fancy or high priced. Seriously, I think the girl washed her hair with Johnson’s Baby Shampoo that morning. In any case, my arms held her close, my eyes closed in appreciation of the moment, until I heard a comment off to my side.

“You know, Gerald, you never hold me like that anymore.”

“You’re nowhere near as beautiful as that girl, Jayne. Even when you were in your twenties.”

“You’re nowhere near as handsome as that young man either, Gerald.”

I opened my eyes and saw a couple standing off to the side, watching us with envy. Alix turned her face and stepped back, blushing again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I’m not,” I said, still taking her hand when we started walking again.

“I guess we just look like a normal couple.”

“I know, I mean I didn’t meet you until I was nearly the age you are now,” I answered. “And we don’t look at all alike, naturally.”

“Speaking of looks, can I ask you something personal?” Alix asked. “What sort of girl is your type, anyway? I’ve never really heard a lot about your personal life. Even when you were at USC you kept things pretty under wraps.”

“How do you know I’m not gay?” I teased, eyes glinting. “Maybe I’m into guys more than girls.”

Alix laughed and shook her head. “No, I’d know that if you were. I’m a bit naive, I’ll admit that, but being in fashion modeling for five years, you quickly develop a very sharp gaydar. It helps to know, it avoids potential awkward situations.”

I had to give it to her there. “I guess I’ve never had a certain type,” I said, feeling for the first time like I was the one being questioned, but not minding it at all. “I mean, I’ve dated all sorts of women.”

“Bull crap Kade,” Alix laughed, teasing me. “Come on, every guy has a type. I’m not saying you wouldn’t date a girl who’s a ten in any particular category. And I don’t mean mentally. Personalities come in any type of container, and can always trump a body, at least to me, and I think to you too. But if you had your druthers, everything else being equal, what’s your type?”