Page 11 of Takeover

“A brother,” he says, causing his father to choke on his coffee. “A big brother,” he clarifies.

“A big brother, huh? You know, if you ever get a brother, you’ll be the big brother. It’s cool. I’m the big sister in my family.”

Before he can ask any more questions, and just as Ethan’s coughing stops, the food arrives and my stomach growls loud enough for Ethan to hear.

Without any more discussion, we all dig into our meals.

8

She’s definitely not shy about eating in front of me. She even asks Vince for some of his pancakes. I can’t hold my laugh when they negotiate an exchange of a bite of pancake for a piece of muffin. To get her attention, I reach over and take a piece of her bacon. She doesn’t say anything, but the look she gives me tells me she doesn’t appreciate my audacity. So, I do the only thing I can do, I take another piece for myself and offer one to Vincent. She smiles at him but shoots daggers at me.

She calls the waitress over and orders two more sides of bacon without even looking in my direction.

She finishes everything she ordered, and sits back in the chair, patting her stomach. Much too soon, I’ve paid the check and we step outside to find Earl holding the door open for us. I hold the door for Vincent and gesture for Tara to follow.

“I’m just three blocks away. I need to walk off that breakfast.” She sticks her head inside the car, leaving her backside sticking in the air. As she says goodbye to Vince, I can’t take my eyes off her ass. Thankfully the sound of traffic muffles the involuntary groan that escapes, but Earl never misses a thing. He raises his eyebrows and hides his laugh behind a series of fake coughs. I narrow my eyes at him, and he only laughs harder.

I don’t know what Vincent says to her, but she climbs in the car and gives Earl her address. With Vince’s booster seat behind the driver, Tara is between us. I lay my arm against the top of the back seat after I stretch. After giving me a questioning look at the gesture, she ignores me and spends the short ride talking to Vincent about Christmas, all the while holding his little hand in hers.

The ride is over all too quickly, and Earl pulls up in front of her three-story brownstone. She hugs Vincent, and I slide out of the car to let her out. She nearly collides with Earl again and lets out a shriek before practically running away from him.

“Mr. Bradford, have a good rest of your day,” she says when she finally reaches the gate to her building. She extends her hand as if we just finished a business meeting.

“I had a nice time,” I say as I rub my thumb across the top of her hand. She inhales and snatches her hand from mine.

“It wasn’t a date,” she scoffs as she opens the gate and walks towards the front steps.

“We did something fun. We shared a meal. Made plans to see each other again.”

She moves away from the steps and comes back to stand in front of me.

“Are you high? You snitched on me to my dad, and I had to do this as some sort of punishment. Then you manipulate me into having breakfast. To add insult to injury, you weasel your way into my family’s Thanksgiving. Now, you’re under the delusion that this is some sort of date.” She looks up and down the street before sticking her index finger in my face.

Before she says anything, I shrug and say, “What do I know? This is my first date in seven years.”

“And you weren’t on one today!” Then she takes a calming breath and says, “Give me back my phone.” She holds out her little hand, and when I put the phone in her palm, I make sure that our hands touch. She snatches the phone away before I can enjoy the feel of her skin against mine.

“Are you going to stomp your little feet again?” I ask.

She takes what I think is supposed to be a slow menacing step toward me. “My little feet?” She shakes her head sadly. “I’m not the least bit surprised that you’re condescending. Don’t force me to show you what these little feet are capable of. I’m not going to let you ruin my Thanksgiving. Goodbye!” She turns her back to me and runs up the stairs, goes through the door and out of my sight. She misses my smile as I get back inside the car.

9

“Did I hear that right?” my sister, Vickie, whispers to me. I grab her hand and walk away from our father and stepmother. As expected, Alan follows us into the kitchen. “Did our father just say that Ethan Bradford is coming here for Thanksgiving dinner or did I have too much of our evil stepmother’s rum punch? I thought you would have warned him about showing his face here, Tar.”

“You heard right, and you had too much,” Alan says. “And I’d bet that this guy doesn’t let anyone tell him where he can and cannot go.”

“Speak,” Vickie orders me.

Instead of reminding her that I’m the oldest sister, I hop on the island and sit. Alan leans across from me, his expression seemingly bored as he looks at his iPhone.

I tell them about Saturday and how he manipulated me into having breakfast after our father insisted he and his son join us.

“Why the hell are we just hearing these details now? We’ve been here since last night. Oh my God!” She snatches Alan’s phone from him and pulls up a picture of Ethan. “Holy Mother!” She hands the phone back to Alan and puts both hands on her head. “You were hanging out with that on Saturday, and you have the nerve to complain?

“As a straight man, I can appreciate his good looks. He kinda reminds me of me, only he has less melanin. Handsome, understated, and confident.” Alan puffs out his chest and starts to strut around the kitchen. As usual, we ignore him.

“Okay, this does not leave the kitchen. This is a Taylor three, top tier confession.” I stick my hand out, and they both put their hand on top of mine. On the count of three, we shout ‘Taylor three.’

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