Sara: Just yourself x

I tucked my phone in my pocket and grabbed my jacket, ready for my meeting down the hall. I had to look at least somewhat professional, as I suspected another fat contract was about to land in my lap.

As I was about to pass Sadie’s desk she called out to me. “Harvey, what do you want me to do with this monstrosity?” Her thumb pointed back towards a smooth but ugly-ass crystal on a black plinth, the size of a grown man’s arm. It sat glinting on a desk next to the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Sadie.

“That’s the award?” I said in disbelief.

“Mhmm. Horrible, ain’t it?”

“You would’ve thought the Businessman of the Year deserved better than that ugly piece of shit.”

“Well? What do you want me to do with it?”

“Bin it, or take it home and use it as a dildo for all I care,” I said and walked away as Sadie let out the most unladylike bark of laughter.

“I might just do that!” she called after me.

The meeting went as I expected. David, my business partner, reluctantly handed over another hotel chain contract to me. He was pissed, but the client wanted me and my magic touch… so that’s what they got. He knew his time was nearly up, and someday soon I’d either buy him out or the board would get rid of him. But I kept him on, holding off on pulling his legs out from under him, as I liked our current setup. I got to do the fun stuff, organising the redesigns of the hotels, showing them how to run their business efficiently, visiting them and shagging the occasional maid while I was there. And David was chained to his desk, up to his eyeballs in the nitty-gritty. It was perfect.

With a bounce in my step I left the office early and walked to the parking lot. A few vehicles were scattered around the area, and cold wind lashed at my cheeks. I popped my collar and braced myself against the promise of snow.

Before arriving at Sara’s I stopped to grab a bottle of wine, something fancy and extraordinarily expensive. She was making me dinner; it was only right I let her experience a heavenly bottle of red, and I secretly hoped the rich liquid would stain her lips crimson.

I approached the house, going around the back instead of knocking on the front door. A window was propped open, and the delicious scent of a home-cooked meal filled the air. I inhaled the aroma deeply. It’d been a while since anyone had cooked for me. I normally relied on Sadie to grab me occasional food supplies, the majority of them requiring little to no effort—maybe some boiling water in a cup of dried noodles, or the protein bars I snacked on. I made small work of the porch steps and pushed open the unlocked back door.

“Sara, it’s me,” I said, loud enough for her to hear.

Footsteps padded against the upstairs floorboards as I heard her make her way towards the landing. I put the bottle onto the kitchen counter and waited for her to come down the hallway.

“You should really lock your back door, you know. Anyone could walk—” I took a sharp intake of breath as I saw her again for the second time that day. She wore a pair of faded indigo jeans that made her short legs look amazing and a simple white shirt that stretched tightly over her ample chest. Her outfit was a far cry from the thick woollen sweaters and shapeless trousers she used to wear.

As I looked from her bare feet, my eyes skimming over her thighs and shapely body and up to her messy bun, it puzzled me how it had taken me so long to really see her. Her figure was full of arcing curves that cinched in at her waist, a top-heavy hourglass that I couldn’t help but wish to see naked. I conceded, though, I’d settle to see her bend over in those jeans.

“You look nice,” I said. “Got a fancy date?”

She chuckled and pushed a hand at my chest, then reached up to pat at her hair as if embarrassed. “Don’t be silly, I look a mess. I just nipped up to get changed out of my work clothes. You don’t mind that I didn’t dress up?”

“Not at all, I meant it when I said that you looked nice.”

“Oh,” she replied and turned away from me, but I caught the pink colouring on her cheeks before she did.

“Sorry, I thought you were teasing me.” A slight hint of— what was it, embarrassment? No, more like apprehension—had entered her voice. Was she not used to compliments? Or perhaps she didn’t know one when she heard it. Eric surely would’ve showered her with loving pet names and whispered plenty of sweet nothings in her ear. Had she simply gone too long without one after his death?

“Well, I can do that, too, if you want,” I said to her back, admiring the roundness of her arse as she collected a tea towel from a bottom drawer.

“No, that’s OK. I’d rather you not.”

“Fair enough. You’re enjoying your new job, then?” I asked.

She came close. An intoxicating cloud of vanilla and coconut drifted up from her body and around my head. The delicious smell made all my receptors stand up and take notice.

Fuck, they weren’t the only thing standing up, I thought as my cock thickened, straining against the tight confinement of my suit trousers. I only hoped to god she didn’t notice. If she were any other woman, I’d gladly be wanting her to dip her gaze down to my crotch, enjoying the moment when her eyes inevitably widened with lust and excitement as she saw the outline of my need for her. But this was Sara, my stepsister, and though it would no doubt turn me on to have her looking at me like that, well, it wasn’t ever going to happen, so why even think it? I’d have to make do with lookalike bartenders instead.

Her mouth opened again. She’d said something, and I’d completely zoned out.

“Harvey,” she smiled and nudged me back to life, “I need to you move, you’re in the way. I gotta get the knives and forks.”

I gladly strode away, coughed, and took the opportunity to readjust myself as Sara busied herself behind me in the kitchen.

I heard the oven door open and resisted turning back around, not wanting to give myself any more impure thoughts of her perfectly shaped bottom filing out those jeans. I almost groaned. I needed to distract myself.

“Need any help?”

I risked a glimpse back into the kitchen, and Sara was thankfully back at the countertop. She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but not tonight. Just go sit down on the couch and relax. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

I nodded, walked into the living room and let out a huge, pent-up breath.

9

Sara

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said to Harvey from across the heavy wooden dining table. He sat with the top two buttons of his work shirt undone, revealing a toned neck. He’d removed his light grey tie and stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket, which was now draped over the back of his chair.

“Starving,” Harvey replied. Barely visible wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkled as his mouth turned upward into a smile. I couldn’t help but notice that he was looking at me more than usual. Studying me like an abstract painting he couldn’t quite understand. I caught him glancing up from his plate more often than not, causing me to squirm in my seat.

I couldn’t remember the last time we’d eaten a meal together alone. Come to think of it, I don’t think we ever had. There’d always been another person acting as a buffer—a family member, either one of our parents or Anita. It was new territory, and try as I might, I needed to remind myself constantly that it wasn’t a date. I supposed it would be good practice for the future, but god, Eric was barely cold in the ground. There was no way I could think of dating at such an early juncture. What would people think? And never mind that, who would even have me? When you hear the word widow, it conjures a withered woman in endless mourning, forever alone and surrounded by cats.