Destined Read online

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Allyson Young

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-091-5

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  My thanks to author Jennifer Simpkins, beta reader and critique partner. I can’t wait for us to write that book together!

  DESTINED

  Marking Time, 1

  Allyson Young

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Oh lord, she was mucking this all up. She’d waited until the celebration of her homecoming from vet school was over, lain awake in her lonely bed all night thinking about this moment, waited for her men—she hoped—to finish morning chores and join her for this offer.

  Sinclair Renton stared up at the two most beloved faces her world encompassed, both boasting strong, handsome features, bronzed from all the hours working outside on the ranch. Two pairs of eyes, one the blue of the prairie sky in full summer, the other the midnight blue of late fall evenings, stared back at her with identical expressions of shock … and something else. Something she wasn’t experienced enough to interpret, but what she thought—hoped—was a spike of desire and longing. Ashton hid his feelings better than Craig, but she was sure he felt things for her. And there was a shimmering flicker in his brother’s gaze. Please Lord that she hadn’t misinterpreted all those signals over the years. She’d waited so long. Waiting until she had something to offer, more than only herself.

  The lust consuming her every waking moment around them was, right now, seriously undermined by Craig and Ashton Russell’s predominating incredulity. Sinclair hoped her interpretation of those other, muted, responses was accurate and would save the day. If only she could do this right…

  Rose, their housekeeper, was away visiting family, so there would be no one to cramp their style. She’d even dressed for the occasion and thought she had the convincing argument.

  “Sinclair, honey. You can’t know what you’re saying here. We’re your brothers.”

  “You aren’t.” She desperately strove to calmly reason with Ash. As the elder brother, twenty-nine to her almost twenty-two years, he was the one to convince initially. “You’re my foster brothers. Big difference. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

  “No, Sinclair.” Craig weighed in, his face taking on a somber look, his gaze now an inscrutable deep indigo. “You were raised with us, like a sister. It’s not right you have these feelings for us. You’re confusing them with … something else.”

  Seizing on his hesitation, she burst into speech. “I’m not confused. I’m definitely not. Yes, I grew up with you, thanks to our—your—wonderful parents. And yes, you came to look out for me and treated me like a pain in the ass little sister. But that started to change when I hit puberty.”

  Hadn’t it? Not that she could fault them in any of their behaviors. No one could. They were honorable men in all their dealings. She loved them for that quality, too, and so many others.

  How could an indistinguishable arctic chill freeze both of them into formidable, offended, hunks of manhood? Of course. She’d insinuated they had crossed some kind of line. She hurried to correct it.

  “It was me. I developed different feelings for you, and while I know you probably thought it was some kind of adolescent crush, those feelings haven’t changed. Not over the years. Well,” she amended, “I’m an adult now and presumably have adult needs and desires, but essentially I feel the same things about you. Both of you. Even if you never gave me reason to think you were interested.”

  Until she went away to school and their happiness and pleasure during her infrequent visits back home told her something different, no matter how they stuttered and corrected themselves. Not to mention the very frequent phone calls and email contact. As brotherly as those were set out to be, she knew it went beyond familial feelings. And then there was the way she caught them looking at her when they thought she was unaware. Like she was lunch. The same way she considered them.

  Craig lowered himself onto a dining room chair as if his legs would no longer support him, and Ashton followed suit. She watched as they exchanged a long look, and she waited for Ash to take the lead. He was the more dominant of the two, although she’d never make the mistake of thinking Craig was a pushover. She’d always been able to more easily manipulate the younger brother, but Craig had a line a person never crossed. She wondered if they were aware of how well she knew them. Not that her understanding was helping her ineffectual performance. Where was the speech she’d practiced over the past week, especially on the drive here? One look at the two of them had driven that perfect explanation clear out of her head. She was consumed with the need to kiss those chiseled lips and trace her tongue over those delineated pecs and six packs. The memory of them without shirts, heaving bales and hauling feed made her weak.

  “Let me sum things up here, honey.” Ash stared right into her eyes, obviously ignoring the sexy little outfit she’d donned in preparation—or back-up—for this conversation. She wanted to stamp her foot, but was determined to maintain her adult perspective.

  She fought down the urge to tug at the short shorts, and now wished the top wasn’t so clingy, outlining the cute demi bra that did marvelous things for her breasts. The brothers had devoured her with their eyes when she walked into the room, and even a woman with as little experience as she possessed recognized sexual interest when it was that obvious. Didn’t matter they kept their eyes focused on her face afterward. What was the problem? Ashton cleared his throat, a sure sign he was going to attempt a lecture. She was going to listen carefully and counter any argument. It was now or never. Her sinking stomach aside, she wasn’t a quitter.

  “You came home for two reasons, honey. One to finish out your vet school practicum, and secondly, to establish a ménage with me and Craig. Do I have it right?”

  Put like that, Sinclair knew she’d messed up. Had she really put it that way? Being in their proximity made her brains turn to mush. “You have things in the wrong order.”

  Craig barked out a laugh before visibly swallowing it back. She longed for one of his hugs, the type where she surreptitiously stole the imprint of his fit chest and inhaled his familiar scent. He always kept his lower body away from her. “I’m curious about the ménage part,” he said.

  She knew her head had tilted in exasperation, even as she narrowed her eyes on him. Did he really think he could play that game? Tease her and make fun? Make this less than it was? That was his way of building distance, using humor, and she well knew it.

  “I’ve known about you and Ashton, and your … interest in sharing, since I was sixteen, Craig. When I saw you in the barn with Melinda Roberts.”

  “Jesus.” Craig wasn’t laughing now, and a nerve ticked in Ashton’s jaw.

  “And you’ve never married. You date separately for the events around here, always have somebody different on your arms, but you always do the same girl. Together.”

  “That’s personal, little one,” Ashton gritted out.

  “He asked.” And now she sounded like a ten-year-old. Great.

  “Jesus.” Craig couldn’t seem to find any other words.

  She decided to go for broke, although in her fondest imaginings she’d seen
this play out very differently. More easily. Craig and Ash would hear her out, recognize how sincere she was and sweep her up into their lives. Where they’d live happily ever after, and to hell with convention. They’d profess their love—and lust—for her, just like in all her daydreams.

  “I love you. Both of you. I don’t want anyone else but you. I’ve know it for years. I want to be … whatever it is a woman is in your life. I hoped for forever, but I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

  ****

  Holy mother. Ashton ran a hand through his close cropped hair and got a grip, literally. The slight pain confirmed he was wide awake and this was no nightmare. His brother was still gaping at Sinclair as though she’d spoken in tongues. How in hell hadn’t he seen this coming?

  Because you told yourself—and Craig—for so long, that Sinclair was your little sister in order to quell those urges you both felt, and you ignored all the signals she gave off these past years.

  Sinclair had graduated high school a year ahead of others her age, a bright star his parents had agreed to raise when her teenaged birth parents couldn’t parent a fly. He’d been nearly fourteen when the six year old had infiltrated his life, a whirlwind of a child, so affected by benign neglect she had no filter and no boundaries. Both he and Craig hadn’t been pleased to share their home with such a brat, but had come to appreciate the feisty, engaging kid she became, surviving without direction or guidance all her formative years. His mother, a social worker who specialized in children, and who had worked her magic on the girl, had explained it all. His father ensured they treated Sinclair with care and respect, if they couldn’t love her like a sister.

  Love. Goddamn it. They’d lost Mom and Dad in a pile up on the interstate in a snowstorm, the year Sinclair turned fourteen, and both Ashton and Craig had found out what love really did to a person. To say their little foster sister had been devastated was an understatement, and they came to understand what a huge part she played in their lives. All the years of her tagging along and bothering them, the snitching to their dad, her total loyalty and hero worship had struck home. She knew them inside and out, with that uncanny ability to read others that certain people developed when raised early on without structure. Sinclair had learned to protect herself, and he hoped that skill served her well now, because she had to understand she couldn’t be part of what he and Craig did together and expected of their women. Never mind they’d lusted for her over the past years, never acting on it because it was wrong.

  Ashton knew exactly when he’d fallen. Graduation. Without their mom to help out, he’d taken Sinclair shopping for a dress and other fripperies, listened to her bemoan how awkward it was to conjugate with classmates a year her senior. Who would be away to parties afterward, drinking the night away. Not to mention the couples who’d booked hotel rooms in the surrounding towns. The thought of his foster sister getting drunk and taken advantage of, had made him so incensed he’d nearly crushed the steering wheel with his grip while he plotted.

  And the dress… He’d watched Sinclair grow up wearing pink girl clothes, and dance outfits, accessorized with cowboy boots and a Stetson. She was a free spirit in both her actions and her clothing choices. His mom had encouraged her, and while he’d vaguely been away of Sinclair’s body changing as she grew to her five foot six height, he deliberately hadn’t paid much attention. Until the dress.

  Black, form fitting, it featured a sweetheart neckline that set off the creamy slope of her breasts and slender shoulders and the column of her long neck, bared by her upswept, dark hair. The look in her crystalline blue eyes, seeking his approval, had knocked him into next week. Sexual need didn’t cover what he felt. She had been seventeen years old, beautiful and so damn appealing, and he’d castigated himself as being a pervert. The relief he’d felt, remembering she’d be away to school by August, living with old friends of his family, doing her undergraduate studies, had been overwhelming. He wouldn’t be tempted, and could deal with her coming home for holiday visits. He’d avoided thinking about what she might get up to when away at college, whom she might meet.

  He’d talked her into a demure white gown. Arranged for a nerd to take her to prom, threatening the kid with a horrible death if he didn’t take good care of Sinclair and return her—intact. Because he and Craig, aided by Rose, their housekeeper, had protected their jewel. Not that Sinclair did anything other than study and go to school, and work on the ranch, as she recovered from the loss of her foster parents. They wanted her to find a good guy for her future, although neither of them really had the heart for it.

  She was always there. Present. A part of the family, and yet not. He now wondered what kind of messages he and his brother had given her, likely running hot and cold. Her appeal to them wasn’t all the result of wishful thinking. Shit. He had to fix this.

  “What you’ve learned about our predilections aside, honey, you have to know that they don’t include you.”

  Why not? At least discuss it. It took her enormous courage to come to you about this.

  Pushing that little voice aside, he watched Sinclair grow more determined, shoving that mass of black hair back with an impatient hand. “How come? I mean, you can’t deny you have feelings for me.”

  Craig came to his rescue. “We do have feelings for you, little sis. Of the sibling variety. We love you because you’re family. We’ll always love you. But like a sister.”

  The set of his brother’s shoulders belied his thoughtful words. Ash sympathized. His own body was so tight he feared to relax, thinking he might shatter into pieces. It killed him to see all the color drain from Sinclair’s beautiful face and moisture sheen those silvery eyes. He wanted to kiss it all better. Kiss all of her. But that way lay insanity.

  “Like family. You’re determined to see me as a sister.” Her voice was now flat, and he wanted to do anything to alleviate the despair he heard lacing the tone.

  “Our mom raised you, Sinclair.” He tried to explain. “Our dad expected us to protect you and look out for you as our sister. We can’t impugn their memories.”

  A faint choking sound passed her lips when he played the parental card, and it alarmed him, but she visibly swallowed and lifted her head. Feisty Sinclair was back, and he wished he believed it was for real. “Of course. I … I apologize. Awkward. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve been away for some time. Distance probably made you think—”

  “Don’t presume to tell me what to think, Ashton Russell. Or to feel either.” She cut him off with alacrity as she stood and headed for the door. He tore his eyes away from the curve of her bottom, hugged by those tight shorts. “I’ll find another school to do my field work.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Craig said. “You got accepted here to finish up your degree. That was the plan. It’s a great university, and you’ll have a place to live and all. Lots of opportunity to practice those skills and theory.”

  Craig trailed off as Sinclair studied him. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure I’ll be able to see you every day after spilling my guts. Although I don’t believe you about seeing me as a sister.”

  Ash clenched his fists as her slender body slipped through the doorway and he heard the patter of her boots on the stairs. Fuck.

  The clink of a bottle caught his attention, and he turned to see Craig across the room, pouring a finger of bourbon into a heavy glass. “Want one?”

  “Sure. The day might as well end without me seeing it clearly.” There was ranch work to be done, though, so he’d limit his intake.

  “We gutted her.” His brother sloshed liquor into another glass and recapped the bottle. It set down with a thud. “And where’s she gonna go now at such short notice?”

  Ashton shook his head. “She has to finish out here, at least this year. It takes time to find these placements. I’m not letting her throw five years of schooling away. I’ll give her some time and then go talk to her. It’ll work out.”

  “You think she meant it? About wa
nting us both? Accepting a ménage?”

  “Fuck, Craig! Have you ever known Sinclair to say or do anything she didn’t mean once she got herself organized with Mom’s help?”

  “We’ve wanted her for years. She’s so beautiful, and that outfit she had on today … fuck me, Ash.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s like incest.” He wasn’t thinking about the way his cock had saluted and stood at rigid attention when Sinclair sashayed her sweet ass into the dining slash family room. Or about the way her nipples poked against her scrap of a shirt. Her legs went on forever, taut and lean from all the years in a saddle.

  It was Craig’s turn to shake his head. “It’s not. Her parents never relinquished their rights. Sinclair is our foster sister. No different from growing up with the girl next door who matures and we then see as a woman. Happens all the time.”

  “Like Melinda.” Ash leaked bitterness and sarcasm all over that, and his voice echoed in the room. “Our first girl next door.”

  “Nothing like that bitch,” Craig said quietly. “We know Sinclair much better than Melinda. There’s no comparison.”

  “It sounds like you’re rethinking this. We agreed. Sinclair is out of bounds.”

  Throwing himself down on the old couch, Craig raised his glass, then quaffed the contents. “I want to rethink it. I’ve felt things for her since she was sixteen. You were away at college when she … blossomed. Damn it, Ash. Having her here with only Rose as a chaperone was a test.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I know I did. Just as you did when it hit you.”

  “We can’t, Craig. Mom and Dad would—”

  “What?” His brother interrupted. “Disapprove? Do you really think so? Mom was the least judgmental of anyone, and Dad would want what was best for Sinclair. He always wanted a girl, and he loved her to death.”