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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.”
    Ashton couldn’t keep his voice
down. “Ménage, brother. Remember? That’s what we knew
we’d end up in. What we’ve been doing all these years. Looking
for the right woman. On top of everything else in Sinclair’s life, can
we do that to her? Can you imagine how this place— these
people—would react and treat her?”
    “I know.” Craig slammed his glass
down on the coffee table so hard the lead crystal actually made a fluting
sound. “We can look after ourselves, but they’d crucify Sinclair.”
    “I’ll explain things to her again,”
Ash promised. “We’ll figure out a way for us all to live under one roof without
it being too sour.”
    Shoving up from his seat, Craig
made his way to the door. “I’m not ashamed of what we do, Ashton. It’s who we
are. But Sinclair—”
    “Exactly. She’s not one of those women we favor.” Ashton cut Craig off before he dug them
in any deeper, then followed his brother out and they gained the front door in
silence. It slammed shut with finality, and something
in his heart—and maybe his soul—closed with the same sensation. Life was never
going to be the same.
    ****
    Rising from her crouch over the hot
air vent, Sinclair used the heels of her hands to scrub away the tears. Crying
never solved anything, once you released the pain, as her Mom used to say. Not
her birth mom. Sondra rarely had anything to say that didn’t involve herself , or else it made no sense. Dave, her birth dad, had
made an effort, if her memories of a tall, thin guy who would pick her up and
hug her, were accurate. Nope, the Russells had raised
her and had done a pretty good job. Too bad their sons didn’t view her as
anything other than a little sister, a blood sister, and she didn’t meet
specifications. Not at all like the other women they favored . Craig wasn’t ashamed of his
penchant to share with his brother, but it sounded like he was ashamed of her.
    She’d listened at the floor vent as
soon as she got upstairs, hoping her retreat had at least been adult in nature,
when she’d really wanted to scream and throw things. Instead she’d thought to
leave them with the idea that she couldn’t stay if not as their … lover, she
supposed was the closest descriptor. Hoped they would discuss it and come
around a little. It felt ironic she’d eavesdropped as she’d done when she was