Cannon (A Step Brother Romance #3) by Sabrina Paige Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sabrina Paige
around with. I hold out the joint. "Want a hit?"
Addison shakes her head, and I can't help but get in another dig at her. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Your father would probably have a heart attack if he caught you out here, you know," she says.
My father. She brings him up as if his opinion matters to me more than anything. "Why do you think I'm out here by the horse stable?" I ask. "Why are you out here, anyway? Stalker, much?"
Addison's cheeks flush red, and I note her embarrassment. She's easily embarrassed, but for some reason I don't find it annoying. I enjoy riling her up, which probably says something fucked up about me. "You're so full of yourself, Hendrix," she says. "I come out here sometimes, to get away. You're intruding on my space, jackass."
"Jackass, huh?" I laugh. "I didn't think a good little girl like you cursed. What the hell does America's country music sweetheart have to get away from? The private chef didn't cook your eggs the way you like them this morning?" I'm joking, but the part about the private chef is totally true. They have a private chef in this place. Ri-fucking-diculous.
She looks down at the ground and shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "Whatever. I have to get back to the house." She turns to look at me before she leaves, tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "We can be friends, you know. You don't have to be so mean. I know you're upset about moving here and stuff, but it would be cool to be friends."
I look at her for a long time and take another drag on the joint. She looks so earnest and fucking...nice...that for a second, I almost tell her that it would be cool to hang out with her. Then I remember that my father is an asshole and that I never asked to move to Nashville goddamned Tennessee and live with America's country sweetheart in this Stepford mansion and this Stepford neighborhood.
Still, I feel a pang of disgust with myself when I open my mouth to speak. "It would be cool if you sucked my dick, too, sweetheart."
Addison's face flushes scarlet, and she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Exactly," I say. "So if you're not going to make yourself useful, then leave me the hell alone."
A hurt look flits across her face, then she sets her jaw and narrows her eyes at me. "I'd suck your dick, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to find it."
I'm going to retort that I'm happy to help her with that, but she's already spun around and I watch her retreat, her ponytail bouncing as she walks away. I chuckle. Maybe Little Miss Perfect has a little bit of an edge, after all. That's not what I expected. Perhaps there's more to her than I thought there was.
PRESENT DAY
Addison is mostly ignoring me, her nose buried in that damn cell phone of hers, texting or checking her social media accounts or whatever the hell it is she's doing. I have no idea what the problem is with that girl, why there's a massive stick up her ass. Sure, I treated her like crap when we were teenagers. But she has to know that I was a normal jackass teenage boy. Blame it on hormones.
It's been a week since I moved in and she's barely spoken a word to me, and when she does, it's terse, business-like. Appropriate. We talk about the schedule, where she needs to be and what she needs to do. Nothing else. I tell myself that's probably for the best, really.
The problem is that when she walks around the house in these short-shorts and tank tops, I can barely fucking breathe. And when she passes me in the hallway, the smell of her shampoo makes me hard.
Her damn shampoo.
There might be something wrong with me.
Her chilliness is good. She should keep hating me. I need her to keep hating me. It's what's best for her. It's what's best for me.
There's a knock on the front door, and the doorknob jiggles. When I pull it open, Addy's sister Grace is bent over, tying a kid's shoe. She speaks without looking up.
Addison shakes her head, and I can't help but get in another dig at her. "Yeah, I thought so."
"Your father would probably have a heart attack if he caught you out here, you know," she says.
My father. She brings him up as if his opinion matters to me more than anything. "Why do you think I'm out here by the horse stable?" I ask. "Why are you out here, anyway? Stalker, much?"
Addison's cheeks flush red, and I note her embarrassment. She's easily embarrassed, but for some reason I don't find it annoying. I enjoy riling her up, which probably says something fucked up about me. "You're so full of yourself, Hendrix," she says. "I come out here sometimes, to get away. You're intruding on my space, jackass."
"Jackass, huh?" I laugh. "I didn't think a good little girl like you cursed. What the hell does America's country music sweetheart have to get away from? The private chef didn't cook your eggs the way you like them this morning?" I'm joking, but the part about the private chef is totally true. They have a private chef in this place. Ri-fucking-diculous.
She looks down at the ground and shrugs. "Nothing," she says. "Whatever. I have to get back to the house." She turns to look at me before she leaves, tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "We can be friends, you know. You don't have to be so mean. I know you're upset about moving here and stuff, but it would be cool to be friends."
I look at her for a long time and take another drag on the joint. She looks so earnest and fucking...nice...that for a second, I almost tell her that it would be cool to hang out with her. Then I remember that my father is an asshole and that I never asked to move to Nashville goddamned Tennessee and live with America's country sweetheart in this Stepford mansion and this Stepford neighborhood.
Still, I feel a pang of disgust with myself when I open my mouth to speak. "It would be cool if you sucked my dick, too, sweetheart."
Addison's face flushes scarlet, and she opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"Exactly," I say. "So if you're not going to make yourself useful, then leave me the hell alone."
A hurt look flits across her face, then she sets her jaw and narrows her eyes at me. "I'd suck your dick, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to find it."
I'm going to retort that I'm happy to help her with that, but she's already spun around and I watch her retreat, her ponytail bouncing as she walks away. I chuckle. Maybe Little Miss Perfect has a little bit of an edge, after all. That's not what I expected. Perhaps there's more to her than I thought there was.
PRESENT DAY
Addison is mostly ignoring me, her nose buried in that damn cell phone of hers, texting or checking her social media accounts or whatever the hell it is she's doing. I have no idea what the problem is with that girl, why there's a massive stick up her ass. Sure, I treated her like crap when we were teenagers. But she has to know that I was a normal jackass teenage boy. Blame it on hormones.
It's been a week since I moved in and she's barely spoken a word to me, and when she does, it's terse, business-like. Appropriate. We talk about the schedule, where she needs to be and what she needs to do. Nothing else. I tell myself that's probably for the best, really.
The problem is that when she walks around the house in these short-shorts and tank tops, I can barely fucking breathe. And when she passes me in the hallway, the smell of her shampoo makes me hard.
Her damn shampoo.
There might be something wrong with me.
Her chilliness is good. She should keep hating me. I need her to keep hating me. It's what's best for her. It's what's best for me.
There's a knock on the front door, and the doorknob jiggles. When I pull it open, Addy's sister Grace is bent over, tying a kid's shoe. She speaks without looking up.