VULTURE (a Stepbrother Romance) by Emilia Beaumont Read Free Book Online Page A

deceased husband in glowing terms.
    I tried to walk away from the horde, but none of them would let me, and the kitchen was full of persistent bodies.
    “Could you make sure to take out the next batch of sausage rolls from the oven, Anita?”
    Her sharp eyes narrowed at me. “Why? Where are you going?”
    “Upstairs, I need to lie down.”
    She shook her head. “No, you have to stay. People want to talk to you. They’ve come all this way for the funeral. You can’t go hide in your bedroom. Look, I’ll go get you a chair so you can sit.”
    I turned away from her and braced myself against the kitchen counter. The last thing I needed was to get into a fight with her today.
    Huffing, she dragged in one of the dining chairs that had been moved from the kitchen to the living room to make space.
    “Here you go,” she said, as it it’d been my idea for her to get the chair.
    “Thanks…”
    Wedged in the kitchen, an endless stream of requests and enquiries came my way. It felt like it went on for hours.
    A light tap on my arm, a bump from someone reaching behind me to get a napkin, brought me out of my hazy thoughts. My head shot forward, and I caught Harvey’s gaze. He stood by a group of mourners, dressed impeccably in his black suit. People moved to make way for him as he strode towards me.
    “How you doing?”
    “As well as expected, I think.”
    “You don’t look so good. Do you want to get some fresh air? It’s stopped raining.”
    I smiled; nothing would be better right that moment. “I can’t.”
    “Why not?” he questioned, frowning down at me.
    “Anita said—”
    “Fuck Anita,” he said loud enough to cause a middle-aged woman beside us gasp.
    I laughed. Strands of dark blonde hair fell across my face. I reached out and tucked it behind my ear. “I guess it would be OK for just a moment, but who’ll take care of the guests?”
    He frowned again he eyes darkening in anger. “Who’s taking care of you?”
    “I-I…” I stammered, unsure of what to say. No one cared or worried about me, a fact that I was used to. It was always the other way around. I was the worrier. Harvey’s question caught me off-guard.
    “They’re not wild animals, Sara. And who cares what anyone thinks? If you don’t want to be here, then leave.” His bluntness was refreshing, like a cold shower on a hot day.
    A shred of clarity began to peek through the haze.
    “OK,” I replied.
    Harvey grabbed my hand and hauled me out of the house, escaping via the back door before I could change my mind. The sharpness of the fresh air made my eyes widen, and my lungs inhaled the blissful scent of drying rain. It’d been so stuffy in the house, it’d been a wonder I’d been able to breathe.
    We walked towards the small cut that led through to the dense wood at the back of the house. Making the most of the sun, which appeared through thick white clouds, I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and let it coat me in a blanket of warmth that streamed down upon me.
    “Feel better?”
    I smiled and nodded. I felt the corners of my lips tilt up as I opened my eyes again.
    “Yes, much.” I paused to look at him. For all his faults, his selfishness and whoring around, I had to wonder how he could be so kind to me.
    “Harvey? How did you know I needed to escape the wake?”
    “Does it matter?” he replied simply.
    I guess not, I thought, in the great scheme of things. I shook my head.
    We walked deeper into the woods, and comfortable silence fell between us. Birds chirped up in the trees, their voices singing along our route. Their little wings flapped up to the sky while flocks scattered around the treetops. Sunlight became our torch, straining to illuminate our way through the dense canopy.
    With Harvey by my side, or in some case where the path narrowed, behind me, I suddenly had the urge to voice my thoughts and feelings. It was as if the vacuum he created by keeping quiet was forcing me to spill my secrets. I chewed on the