Page 20 of Beautiful Sin
Great. Just great. How exactly was I supposed to respond to that?Sorry I’ve been weird, Jaxson. By the way, I’m gay and hopelessly in love with you. Pass the salt? Oh wait, I already used that line in my internal monologue. See how flustered you make me?
The mere thought of confessing either truth made my stomach do backflips that would impress a circus performer. Sure, Jaxson was probably the kindest person I knew, and his “protect the family at all costs” mindset was legendary. He’d probably accept my sexuality because that’s just who he was—the perfect older brother. But confessing my feelings? That would be like voluntarily jumping into a volcano while wearing gasoline-soaked clothes and screaming “I’m flammable!”
“I know you worry about me, Jaxson,” I said, trying to sound more adult than the disaster-in-progress I felt like. “But I’m legally allowed to drink now. I can handle my own love life without the Sinclair Family Dating Committee weighing in.” I paused, then added, “Though if you want to direct that protective energy somewhere useful, maybe talk to Nico about his ‘experimental’ cooking phase. I’m pretty sure what he made last Tuesday violated the Geneva Convention.”
I turned to him then, deciding offense was the best defense. “Speaking of questionable life choices—are you planning on going out with that woman?”
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me. “Who?”
“Sara,” I said, trying to keep the venom out of my voice and failing spectacularly. “You know, the one who thinks having a trust fund makes her queen of the universe? The woman whose personality makes a cactus seem cuddly by comparison?”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through the car. “What made you think I’d go out with her?”
I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. “Because she acts like she’s already picked out your wedding china and is just waiting for you to realize your life’s purpose is to worship at the altar of her designer shoes.”
“I’mnotinterested in her, Lan,” he said bluntly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I prefer my dates with a soul. And possibly the ability to smile without cracking their face.”
“Good.” I nodded, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave. “The last thing we need is her redoing our house in designer leopard print and installing a shrine to herself in the living room.”
Suddenly, his hand was in my hair, his thumb stroking my cheek, and my brain short-circuited like a toaster in a bathtub.Fuck!Here we go again. I silently groaned, melting into his touch like ice cream on hot pavement. My body went warm and weak, and damn it, was it possible to die from wanting someone this much? But before I could completely embarrass myself by purring like a cat or doing something equally mortifying, he removed his hand and returned it to the steering wheel. I turned to stare out the window, pretending the passing streetlights were fascinating enough to explain my flushed face and rapid breathing.
“So,” Jaxson said, his voice deceptively casual while his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, “want to tell me about this mystery person who’s got you acting like a contestant onThe Bachelor? You know, minus the hot tub scenes and questionable fashion choices.”
“Sorry, all my deep emotional confessions are scheduled for next Tuesday,” I muttered, studying the passing scenery like it held the secrets to eternal happiness. “Between three and five p.m. Please bring your own tissues and existential dread.”
“Nice try with the deflection,” he said, voice straining for casual and missing by about a mile. “But we both know what yousaid at the restaurant wasn’t just for show. You’ve never been a good liar, Lan. Your ears turn pink.”
My hands flew to my ears automatically. Traitors. My whole body was conspiring against me.
“Wow, you’re really committed to this interrogation,” I said, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. “Should I be expecting a spotlight and rubber hose next? Maybe some dramatic music while you pace around me in a circle?”
“Consider it professional curiosity,” he said, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You know, since I’m apparently losing my title as your personal confidant. I’ve been demoted, and I didn’t even get a farewell party or a gold watch.”
Right. Because checking up on my love life was probably item fifty-seven on his ‘Big Brother Responsibilities’ checklist, right between ‘Make sure Lan eats vegetables’ and ‘Pretend not to notice when he steals your shirts.’ Which I absolutely did not do. Often.
“Fine, Detective Sinclair. What’s the first question in your love life investigation? And just so you know, I’m invoking my right to remain silent if things get too personal. And my right to throw myself out of this moving vehicle if they get really personal.”
The car swerved slightly as his grip tightened on the wheel. “Let’s start with the basics. Age? Occupation? Please tell me it’s not one of your professors. I don’t think I could handle another family scandal after Nico’s unfortunate incident with the dean’s toupee.”
I barked out a laugh that probably sounded one step away from hysteria.Professor?If only it were that simple. Try ‘successful real estate agent with a hero complex, incredible biceps, and a smile that makes my brain cells commit mass suicide.’
“They’re…” I trailed off, searching for words that wouldn’t give me away. “Special. Important. Completely off-limits.”
“Off-limits?” His voice sharpened with concern. “Are they married?”
“No! Nothing like that,” I assured him quickly. “Just… unavailable. To me, specifically.”
“That’s pretty vague,” he pressed, his eyes briefly leaving the road to study my face. “Why unavailable?”
“Because some things are just impossible.” I sighed, staring out at the passing streetlights. “It would be like trying to catch the moon—beautiful to look at, but you’d burn up if you ever got close.”
“That good-looking, huh?” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a muscle jumping along his cheekbone.
“Put it this way—their face should be classified as a lethal weapon.” I sighed, truth sneaking past my defenses like a ninja with a VIP pass to my insecurities. “I’m basically competing in the Olympics of unrequited love with about half the city’s population. And let me tell you, my chances are about as good as a snowman’s in Hawaii.”
“You haven’t told them?” Was that a crack in his perfectly controlled voice? A hint of something I couldn’t quite identify?
I shook my head. “That would be like volunteering for a public execution. Hard pass. I’d rather eat Colt’s protein bars, and those things taste like sweetened cardboard with delusions of grandeur.”
